I’m not even sure when last I wrote you. I apologize. Small. Because you didn’t ask of me.
Lagos, being Lagos, plenty has happened. Many, I have forgotten. Many, I don’t care about. As you might have guessed, this will be one of those rant-about-pretty-much-anything days.
For those who have no idea what this means, this is what Igbo people call Yoruba parties. Yes, only Igbo people. As far as I know anyway.
My aunt had her 50th birthday party the other weekend. It was pretty awesome being that I was sprayed some nice money. But, that didn’t even happen until the party was almost over. Before this happened, I was the official party housegirl. I’m not com
plaining. At least, not anymore.
I got Gulder for my uncles, salad for my grandfather, fork for my aunt and shared souvenirs for the entire family. I also walked around taking pictures with my uncle’s very sexy camera (TMI).
Anyway, the real problem was not that I did these things. It was that I did them in 24-inch heels. Sorry, 24 and a half. For some reason, my legs refused, adamantly, to have a certain, very important conversation with my brain;
LEGS: Guy, body dey pain oh.
LEGS: Yup. What should I do?
BRAIN: Gaan wear your slippers.
So yeah, for about a week or so after the party, I didn’t feel my feet. I could have walked on fire If I wanted. I didn’t though. “Thou shall not test the Lord your God.”
However, minus the pain, I had an absolutely lovely time at the party. I don’t attend too many parties, but I love a good Owanbe. There’s a lot of love, food, music and laughter to go around. And of course, money.
As we were leaving the party, one of the band members asked me for my number. I said no, smiled and walked away. He sent one of his band members after me. An albino. Homie said his friend really wanted my number. He got tired of asking and returned to his master. My aunt had seen the exchange.
AUNT: Simi, albino is toasting you?
ME: No, aunty.
AUNT: Albino is toasting my niece. How did that happen?
ME: You see, aunty, what happened is…*sigh*
I realized there was absolutely nothing I could say to make the situation seem any better. So, I let it go.
Last night, my mum went to Balogun market. Unfortunately, almost a hundred thousand naira was stolen from her bag. She couldn’t buy any of the things she had planned to buy. She didn’t see the thief steal the money. She can’t even tell exactly when the money was stolen.
The family found out together because she told us in the family chat room. Everyone was annoyed. Understandably so. Everyone had different reactions.
My sister-in-law was trying to find out how the money was taken. She was trying to figure out ways to keep her money if she had to go to the market.
MRS. YELLALOT: I will wear shorts that have pocket and wear trousers on it.
I thought this would have been a pretty genius idea except for the fact that I started picturing her taking off her clothes in front of shops whenever she wanted to pay for anything. I had a feeling that the shop owners might frown on it. But what do I know?
My eldest brother, the husband of the afore-mentioned said;
YELLALOT: Mummy send me the details of what was in the bag so I can call the AIG in charge of Alagbon to work on it. We can still catch the thieves.
MOM: I did not even see his face. Except the AIG wants to catch all the thieves in Balogun.
MRS. YELLALOT: Leave them. Don’t worry God will arrest them.
ME: Bro, thank God. If they arrest me or my boyfriend, I can call you to call AIG. Bless God.
Another genius idea shey?
But my mum didn’t think so. His wife didn’t think so either. Another genius idea bites the dust. Or maybe not.
At least now I have someone I can use to threaten policemen. Like they say; – “Every disappointment is a blessing sometimes and in some situations.”
While I was busy thanking God for this blessing, my other brother, Wozealot said;
WOZEALOT: Simi, the way things are going, one may not even be surprised if you get arrested.
Where is the love?
I’m not a bad girl or nothing. Like he doesn’t know people get arrested when they are fighting for freedom.
Anyway, when I saw what was happening to all these genius ideas, I decided to keep my own to myself. Mine might have included a babalawo or a gun…but I’m not at liberty to say.
My mum’s genius idea ruled the day;
MOM: Let’s pray he or they will give their lives to Christ and change.
I first saw the news on twitter last night. I automatically believed it was a lie. You can’t blame me though. Before his actual death, many people had already used mouth to kill him. It’s almost like some people were waiting for him to die because they were in a hurry to put up his quotes as their status messages on Facebook and Twitter.
I remember when he was really ill and in the hospital for weeks. Media from all around the world camped around the hospital. They couldn’t even let the man be sick in peace. Or let his family take care of him in peace.
He was a great man. His life was a beautiful example of love, forgiveness, hope, persistence, strength. He was admired by the world, but first, he belonged to his family. That’s my opinion anyway.
But like a friend of mine said – “Take your opinion to the Lord in prayer.”
Someone asked why our president, GEJ, hasn’t given a speech yet about Mandela’s demise. What will he say? How will he say it? Who is willing to write a speech that he won’t even read well?
Mandela isn’t the only famous man that died this week. Paul Walker, one of the main actors from Fast and Furious, also passed away in a car crash.
When I heard the news, I felt a little guilty. I used to complain about the guy’s acting. I would say, “The guy is too stiff jor. He no sabi act.”
So when I heard he died. I felt guilty. It took me a couple of hours to realize it wasn’t my lack of love for his acting that caused the crash.
Truth is whether or not there were people who didn’t appreciate his work, he will be remembered. For good. Asides his acting, he was also philanthropic and he did his job well.
When you go, who will remember you? And for what?
Is it for toasting all the ladies in your area?
Or for stealing meat?
Or for snatching husbands?
Or for making people sad?
Or for owing money?
Or will it be for making people happy?
Or for loving your enemies?
Or for giving?
Or for pounding yam for your husband at 2am?
Or for sacrificing?
Or for making a difference?
It’s your call.
Yours truly, Rantalot