“Madam shift na make I sidon well” the fat woman who entered at the bus stop said to the young lady close to her. It was obvious that she was angry, either having a bad day, or she was just transferring her aggression from the bus driver to the poor lady.
“Abeg madam, no spoil my door o, ah ah, na watin? Your husband no know say him suppose buy you your own personal motor, so you fit spoil am with you big bom-bom…” the Driver had commented, Drawing laughter from some commuters
“you dey craze, you hear? You dey mad, ti o ba wa asiwere” She had responded sharply, squeezing herself in the Bus,
“Na you and that you yeye husband dey mad, see eh, o yoo fun meji ijoko, you go pay for two seats” said the driver as he jolted the bus to life, sending some of the commuters who were yet to sit down, off balance
The woman couldn’t get hold of her balance, she landed her humongous buttocks on the lady next to her with the force of a ripened big breadfruit.
“Madam see me na, you wan break my leg” the lady shouted, squeezing her face in pains.
“Bonger fish like you, no go chop well add weight dey here dey look for who wan break your kinkini leg” the woman hissed
“See me see wahala, I say you wan break my leg and you dey here dey call me bonga fish, no let me insult you o, I dey respect your age o” the young lady responded
The drama going on in the bus was not new to Grace, Mary has always asked her why she would pack her car and choose to exchange sweats and body odors while dragging buses with Average Lagosians, she had responded that she wanted to keep in touch with real life outside luxury and fake niceness from self acclaimed high class citizens.
But today she had dismissed Mary’s offer to give her a ride home, with the excuse of going to the market to get something in other to prepare pepper soup for Imelda, she had called Imelda earlier to know how she was doing, but her phone was switched off.
She had called Morgan to tell him that she may not meet up for the Dinner Date, though disappointed he had understood with her but insisted she should call him if she changes her mind.
“Praise the Lord!” a man shouted from the back
“Halleluyah!” chorused the commuters
“I bring you the good news of the lord, but before we start, let us raise a song to praise God”
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In a short while, voices with different keys raised in a cacophonous tone
Eshe, baba oh
“Hallelu…” shouted the preacher
“Halleluya!!!” chorused the commuters
Grace wasn’t one to join into religious rituals in buses or public places, she remembered Ken would always tell her that if not for him, she would have been an atheist, whenever they have arguments pertaining religion. That was of course before their divorce.
“…Give your life to Christ, stop fornication, and watching pornography, looking at worldly people doing ehm…ehm… doing rubbish for TV is a sin, you go go hell fire o…” the preacher was saying
Grace remembered the first time she set her eyes on a pornographic clip, she was 12 year old, her mother was out on her usual political meetings and a deliveryman brought a package for Auntie Nwanneka, she met her door not closed, dark with the only ray of light being the reflection from the old 14 inches Panasonic television in her room, Auntie Nwanneka did not know she was there watching her so engrossed in watching two women and a Man in bed Unclad, with her fingers going in and out of her wee-wee.
Grace did not tell her mother what she saw, but two days later, she wanted to know what was inside the wee-wee Auntie Nwanneka was looking for, so she laid on her daddy’s bed, her little legs spread and her tiny fingers inside her v****a, she couldn’t find anything in her wee-wee, and it was painful so she abandoned the idea, it was years letter, when she was in senior secondary school that she understood what it was Auntie Nwanneka was looking for in her wee-wee.
“Mami owa o!” shouted the young lady who was sitting by the entrance
“Mami sokale!” the conductor shouted back as the bus slowed down
Grace came down with the girl, inhale the sting of fresh fish and rotten vegetables, she bought goat meat, pepper soup condiments and leafs, and headed home.
That evening, by the time she got to her house, Imelda was gone. Somehow in her mind, she knew this would happen, though she was disappointed, she tried her number again, but it was still switched off, so she dropped her a message, checking on her, asking that she should give her a call as soon as possible.
She looked around, the house became so lonely all of a sudden, she wanted to talk with someone, cool her head, she wanted to call Ken, but she did not want to look like a paste to him.
So she called Morgan, took a quick shower, applied a little lipstick and walked out with her purse.
Imelda sat on the bed, her legs crossed, and tears in her eyes, flipping her phone. Ahmad had called her consistently while she was in Grace’s house, she had ignored at first, but when he sent her that emotional message, pleading and stating how helpless he had become, how he was going to die if she abandon him, she fought the desire to go back to him, she wanted to ignore him, to shut the door and never look back, to never listen to this popular rhyme.
But she went to him, couldn’t stand him being helpless, so she went to him, like the mother hen she was, offered her shoulders again for him to lean on, her food for him to eat, her bed to lay and her v****a for his pleasure.
She saw her Madam’s call, she couldn’t pick because she did not know what to say to her, what excuse to give for going back to this life. She also saw a call from another number, an unknown caller whom introduced himself as Kolawole again, he said he had called her before, that he was the guy that gave her a lift some weeks ago, the story and the voice sounded familiar, yet she seems to be losing it. She didn’t know what to say to him either, so she cut the call.
So there he lay like a dead bull, after a marathon of sex, she felt nothing during the sex, she couldn’t look him in the face like she used to, rather she shut her eyes and wished herself in the arms of another man while he pounded on her, it was an act to compensate him for staying away.
Looking down at him lying on the bed dead asleep, she doesn’t know what was it growing inside her, how she got to this place how she had lived with him all these while, and one more thing:
“Who was this Man Kolawole with the patience of a dove and the voice of the sweetest melody?”
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