There are some things that happen in this mysterious life that we cannot explain *Insert Nollywood Track here* When such things happen, we shake our heads, contort our mouth into an annoying shape and act bewildered. Today, we shall listen to one such tale as told by…Ladies and Gentlemen…
It’s a few minutes past 10 pm and I’m sitting alone in “Kerosene Fridge;” the beer parlor beside my house. I can see you looking at me, judging. Go on, Judge Judy, judge well well. Ah ahn… Small girl like that, only her come beer parlor dey drink big stout. She no get bobo? Well no, I don’t. Thanks for your concern. My headphones, connected to my cell phone, are blasting sweet music into my ears. That’s all I use my cell phone for anyway; no one calls me on it. The soothing, dulcet tones of AY.com fill my ears, his R-factor a comfort to my aching mind.
“Kini ojo oghi e? O gbo? How old aghe you? (I’m just 21.) O da be, emi 54… tele mi lo ile, ka lo gun gun gun.”
Familiar words. I was 21 when I went to interview as Chief Fakunrodo’s assistant. Chief was as wealthy as the entire Kardashian clan and twice as daft. I was young, broke as any other fresh graduate in Naija. Obviously, I was desperate for work. How could I know that chief was hiring me for the double D grades I had on my chest and not the A’s on my transcript? Chief threatened to fire me if I didn’t give him some, so I did. Then a little extra. He didn’t know about my gangster curse. Oh, let me explain:
See, I was born a child of circumstance, Daddy wasn’t around much and Mama was a rolling stone aka Pepper grinder. Infact, daddy was never around except when he wanted to come and collect pepper from Mama and by pepper here, I mean money. It’s safe to say that Mama was the Bread winner although pepper was her main source of income. I hope you’re following closely. Anyway, Mama regarded daddy as a complete waste of dust, flesh and bones. She used to tell me that God should have used his flesh to create more chickens for world consumption, quick to add how her pepper would taste good with such. Yes, she hated him so but she never told me why.
All she did say is “No one would ever take you for granted my daughter, I have taken care of that”
I’ve never done anything to hurt anyone. On purpose. People that offend me just tend to… well, die. Or get hurt. Or go mad. And I’m talking walking-on-the-road-with-dada-wearing-rag-and-eating-from-dustbin-while-singing-Tonto-Dike-Hayi kind of mad. Anyway, didn’t take very long for karma to catch up with chief. His wife left him for a reggae artist and just after he fired me, he went bankrupt. Last I heard, he caught some urinary infection from one of his suzies and now lives in the leper’s colony along Benin-Ore expressway.
“O baje, o baje, wa wo bo shey ghe idi, o baje…
Orobo ueeee!!! Orobo ueeee! She just dey roll her waist like gorodom…”
AY.com slowly dissolves into Sound Sultan’s rich melodious notes. The Sultan’s voice transports me to another time. I’m in the club and I’m staring at a girl shaking her nyash. Normally, it would mean nothing to me except for one little detail. She was shaking that nyash all over my man. MY man. And she was supposed to be my best friend. Chinwe knew how I felt about Tolu. I poured my heart to her like it was perfume in a broken Alabaster box since I was too scared to pour it out to Tolu himself. Chinwe knew how his voice made me turn to jelly, yet there she was rolling her waist on top of him like some Yvonne Nelson chick on Iyanya medication. “I’m leaving!!!” I shouted to Chinwe over the music, she didn’t even hear me because she was too busy using her waist like a faulty centrifuge. As I lay on my bed that night, I wept like Nkiru Sylvanus.
At about 4 am…
Ring ring* Hi, my name is Doctor Blah blah. Your friend Chinwe was in a ghastly car accident…”
Well, that was years ago. Tolu died and Chinwe now eats through an IV and pees through a catheter.
“Heeys!Hygienus, bring another big Stout!” I yell as the song switches.Ah yes, Danny Young…
“Eni wo ankara lo ma je semo.”
Folake didn’t want me to eat semo. She didn’t think I was good enough for her ankara. Since high school, Folake made it her business to remind me that I was not good enough. Not good enough for her clique, for her parties, for whatever else she was involved with. When she was getting married, she refused to sell me asoebi. At her wedding, they refused to give me plastic bowl souvenir. Or food. Or a chair. Folake was a real bitch. When she threw the bouquet, she also made sure I didn’t catch it by throwing it too close to the stage. As I turned to leave, I caught her husband wink at me…Ah! bobo yii ti jasi. Free pussy abi? He invited me to his office days later and fucked shege si mi lara...Of course, I recorded it and sent it to NTA when he was running for senator. I didn’t have to do much editing because he had me bent over like his bitch while his face contoured in various expressions of pleasure. Anyway, Folake had a heart attack and has moved to Eyenkorin in Kwara state, where she teaches the little children by day, and is the village whore by night.
“Owo mbe lapo mi o, dide ko ba mi jo…”
Look at that useless Adamu. I trusted him. I mean, why not? He was good looking, dark skinned with that slight Fulani accent that hit all the right spots on my tympanic membrane. He worked in my office and we had sex a few times. So when he came to me, with the great business opportunity that was too big to pass up, I couldn’t say no looking at those eyes. And that’s how Adamu disappeared. With my #600k. I was too shocked to cry. A few weeks after Adamu absconded with my money, he was struck by a sudden illness. Last I heard, he had left his former residence at Yaba and taken up new accommodation at Yaba left. I didn’t even get my money back. Mscheww.
I’m tired of drinking and I bet you’re tired of seeing me here. I’ll be back tomorrow night. As usual. I stand and drop a wad of cash on my table. I’m staggering a little but it’s still a sexy strut, Thanks to my favourite streetlight or your car headlights, You’ll probably see me standing in the corner sadly with no Dolce & Gabbana. I didn’t choose this life, Na condition make crayfish bend. I pull up my little black dress, similar in colour to my black Edo heart.
“Some people no wan make I grow, some people no wan make I blow, Olorun maje o…”*skips*
“All I do is get hi, Wave my handz in the Skyy, When you see me passing by, Don’t forget to say Hi, Hoi, hayiii…”