26/06/2015

Perks of being an ajebota


“Ajebota!”
“Omobota!”
“Londoner!”
“Americannah!!!!”
My nerve failed me; I was shy. The room was filled with university students like me so I thought oh well, English should be the lingua franca here. But I thought wrong as different voices spoke one language in unplanned unison. A language I understood but barely spoke. Being a sucker for the white man’s language, I took pride in speaking it in a polish and soft way whenever the opportunity to impress presented itself.

A stout woman, an easily angered one, who shouts too often as she types on a white and black rusty typewriter. Who uses a typewriter in this Hewlett Packard and Lenovo generation? I thought forcing a smile despite my frustration. The hard rocky way the typewriter sounds each time her strong fingers struck the keys is one of the flames that ignites her fiery anger, the other I’m quite unsure of.

She asked a question in my mother’s tongue. My brain was too tired to decode whatever she said. In my innocence I looked dumbfounded, my brain slowly processing what she said letter by letter, trying to place the ‘amis’ ( mark) where they belonged. “Shey o gbo ni? “ She barked. “Ma, I don’t understand” I said softly. I never understand things, I say that with sarcasm most times, but today was different. I didn’t understand her question.

My mumu look when dumbfounded, irritated her, which led to her calling me names. I wept internally, as amebos turned from whatever they were doing to see the tiny ajebota. My uncle tried playing my knight in shine shine armour, which worsened the already bad situation. “Is she a small geh? Shey she cannot speak for herself ni?” she said in a weak, unpolished English, which made me understand why she barely spoke English. “Maybe it is her bodyguard sef” one busybody said from behind, which resulted in thunderous laughter from every corner of the room. Nice one Bovi! I wept more inside, this time for my Oba Awon University (OAU) graduate of an uncle.

I knew I was going to pay for this insult he received, thanks to me.

She shunned and asked how it mattered to him. My inner eyes were tired of crying at this point, it was almost becoming visible. I almost cried.  He was hurt, but waving it aside with an air of maturity he pled on my behalf, she sent him away nonetheless.
She calmed after playing the drama queen and switched to an unbelievable calm side I never envisaged. Adjusting her glasses, she gently explained what she meant. The fear in my eyes brought that effect, I guess. “Why did your bodyguard follow you?” she questioned. “…he’s my brother ma “. “So your daddy cannot allow you to come  by yourself, is he afraid Lagos boys will come and toast you?” she said ,rolling her eyes . I forced a smile. How old are you? What school do you attend? What level are you in? The questions kept rolling, in my mother’s tongue of course! I replied in same tongue, supported with my fingers and hands in motion.

I resorted to doing things the systematic way, which is one of the many things my country is known for. I earned the love and support of the woman with a nice drink :D
                                                                                                                                      G.L




26/05/2015

BIRTHDAY POST

The dreaded future stares at me blank, peeping at my written plans, it continues its stare. My watch making a tick tock sound as the minute hand travels 360 degrees, iteratively. Finally Mother enters my room without knocking as usual. She says ‘happy birthday ‘before she breaks out into a fairly rhythmic hapi baiday tuu youuuuu, happy baidayy tuu uu... She stops after a while and begins to pray for me. She plants a kiss on my cheeks and forehead and then go to bed.  I blush hard and say a silent prayer for mother. She always made sure I was happy on my birthday.  I go to my mirror after the short prayer, hoping to see some sort of change or something. My hair still the same, pieces of meat from my last night’s dinner followed me to my supposed new year, my face didn’t even bother changing-baby face still. I stare at my figure, my neck still thin with a hollow on each side, my body still petite and slim. I sigh deeply and go to bed, hoping for some overnight miracle at least. Morning comes and I wish father a happy birthday he smiles and wishes me same. I was his birthday gift that year.

Those who remember, call, send text, and post their wishes on all my social networks. At the end of the day, I post the usual thanks to those who remembered and those who didn’t. Viola! The day is over, till another 365 days and the whole drama commences and terminates same way-Except that the age changes. Every 365 days is a year closer to the future. Remember the future we all imagined as kids? Doing stuffs big aunties do? It’s here already. Its timing is analogous to that of my little fancy watch. It ticks and never stops, except well maybe there’s a fault and in the case of your life, maybe death. You were hoping I’ll say sickness yeah? Sorry to burst your bubbles, even on your sick bed, the watch of your life never stops ticking.

Enough of the admonition, so today is my birthday and I’m writing a paper today, that’s another reality check for me. Growing up, every birthday was a holiday, due to the fact it falls on the same day as children’s day. I never had classes, until my second year in uni, I had a class on my birthday. Fair, maybe. My third year in uni, was the real reality check, I had test a day before, on my birthday and also after. It was then I realized shi had gotten real. I’m now officially unfit to celebrate children’s day- sad yh? I know right!

If I was to tell my teenage self one thing, it sure would be “Always believe in yourself, even when others don’t believe in you, don’t worry about what they think or say dem go dey alright

My humble self has achieved quite a number of tangible things in the last 365 days *skips details*. I’m not there yet though, but don’t worry, better things are coming.

I think this is the part where I get to stop, go back to my books. Can’t wait to be done with exams. L

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!
G.L



27/03/2015

PRISCA'S TALES


 The evening was chilly as usual. The trees whistled as they danced back and forth to the tune of the wind. The street glowed with so much life as people went about their businesses like they were immune to the chill of the weather.

 Prisca was taking a lazy stroll down the streets of Bariga, scantily clad in a black tank top and jean bum shorts with earbuds plugged in to soulful renditions when she felt a tap on her shoulder. “Aunty ,pesin dey call you” A young scruffy boy who could easily pass for a lout-because of his rough looks, pointed her attention to a car parked beside her. She had been carried away by the song she was listening to; she didn’t notice any one was calling her. Patting her braids in place, she walked slowly back to the car, curious to find out who the person was.

“Hi, where you heading to? Can I give you a ride, please?” came the cool voice. “Without knowing your name?” she replied rudely, rolling her eyes in disgust.  

“My bad! I’m Chike, what’s your pretty name?” 

 “Prisca”.

“Nice name, please can I drop you wherever your destination is, a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be walking alone” his eyes pled. 

“No, I’m fine.” She replied almost immediately.