Memoirs Of A Repentant Escort #2
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. . . And there I stood, it wasn’t a dream. It was me staring into the bulging faces of Mama Seun and the beautiful ‘gbeboruns’ of No. 5 pretentiously referred to as neighbours. Staring at each other, we were both lost for words for few minutes. The meeting was so awkward, and it was the first of its kind in the history of my co-tenancy with Mama Seun.
“Omo ilu mi, ma binu jare, na only you dey house?” Finally, she said.
I made a prolonged silent hiss motivated by anger and frustration. I was so mad at Mama Seun for spoiling my morning and sabotaging my sleep, after all, I wasn’t the one she was looking for obviously.
“Mama Seun, na only me dey house, wetin happen na?” I asked with a stern in my voice and a grin at the likes of Eliza, Mama Titi and Papa Chinyere; the clueless neighbours at my doorstep.
“I dey go work o Mama Seun, wetin happen na. Answer the babe o.”
Mtcheeeew! Yeye neigbour, I felt like smacking his head. Old man sha wan talk so tey him no sabi say na weekend we dey, abi person dey go work for weekend? Maybe e dey work for mortuary, I wondered.
I let it stride without expanding the comment made by Papa Chinyere, so it won’t become a distraction for Mama Seun to jump into.
Papa Chinyere is one of my best neighbours in the compound. Maybe I like him because of his head sha. Bald-headed men trips me, especially those with pot-belly. It somehow makes it interesting you know, and my one wish ever since I got my apartment at No. 5 was to get my hands on Papa Chinyere’s head whichever way, even if it has to be the best way I know how to. I must before I leave the compound.
“Ma binu jare omo ilu mi.” Mama Seun’s response cut my imaginations short and threw me back into the reality of the moment. The woman can ‘famz’ for Africa.
The ‘omo ilu mi’ ish is what always makes me get tired of her. We both happened to share the same State and Town; the only thing we never shared was our Local Government Areas. She is from the South part, while I came from the North part and we just weren’t really close, but she never ceases to maximize any opportunity she has with me to flaunt the fact that we came from the same state as if it was some Dubai visa.
“I know say you go don vex since, no vex abeg. I no know say na you dey house na.” She continued.
“So you no even know who dey house before you started shouting and screaming our names to come help you join in your matter?” Mama Titi added facing Mama Seun.
“Abi o Mama Titi. Me dey waka go my room o abi na wetin?” Papa Chinyere turned to go.
“Come make we help them settle this matter na. Papa Chinyere! Come back abi na wetin sef? Na only you waka come here? Shoo!. . .”
“Ehn, Mama Titi, e don do abeg. No start another matter for my doorstep. Only you and Eliza don do to settle why Mama Seun dey bang my room early momo.” I lashed out facing each of them at a pause in utterance.
“Sebi I don tell you say make you no vex na. Ma binu simi, we no fit fight na.”
“I no vex o Mama Seun but who you con dey find?” I replied facing her.
‘Hehehehehehehe’. I laughed weirdly. Somehow, her response threw me off balance. Where con be the meeting of ‘a proper madman’ and ‘an occasional madman’? Maybe at the point of insanity sha.
“Amaka no dey o. She has travelled since yesterday and I don’t think she would be coming back anytime soon, that’s even if she’s coming back here at all.” I gushed out.
“Itumo?” she asked eagerly in Yoruba.
“Wetin happen sef Mama Seun? I screamed the words at her. I was already running out of patience but I couldn’t help but pity her. A typical local Yoruba wife looking for her man!
“Well, Mama Seun, the itumo be say, Amaka ti travel, ‘mi o mo igba to ma wa’ or better still, ‘ko wa mo’. I emphasized.
The only time I speak my mother tongue is when I’m being frustrated or losing my patience with someone; but really is that the only time I should express myself in my mother tongue? But who cares anyways, I hate when you have to repeat something all over and over again. Only God knows where common sense has gone to in this country with some people!
“Well, e be like say you go gimme her number o because I dey find my husband.”
Now, I couldn’t contain my laughter anymore. Amaka and Baba Seun? I really don’t seem to understand.
“But Mama Seun, shey you and Amaka don dey share your husband ni because I don’t understand what Amaka or Amaka’s number has to do with your husband?”
“Me I sabi wetin I dey talk o plus God save her say I no meet her for house, and help me tell her say if she like herself, make she no come back to this compound again o!”
Now, I was really beginning to laugh real hard. Mama Seun na ‘were’ (madwoman) but her madness no reach Amaka own. We both know she’s just bluffing. Somehow I seemed lost in her conversation, and the next minute, I was really feeling like I was in control of the whole situation.
“Abeg, shey your husband dey miss ni abi wetin. Fill me in na, Mama Seun, na me o, your omo ilu?” . . . I was beginning to enjoy the whole scenario now.
“Wo, leave me jare. The last time I saw my husband was yesterday morning before I go drop Seun for school and when I came back late in the evening from my outings, I couldn’t find my husband. I asked everyone, checked everywhere till Eliza told me that the last time she saw my husband was with Amaka. E for even better at least; na the way she saw them give me concern.”
Choi! Eliza the ‘loose’ girl. When I said she is loose, that’s what I meant. Loosed-mouth everywhere. She is the type you have to be secretive with or else, ‘your own don done for Africa.’
“How she con talk say she see them o, Mama Seun?” I asked
“Sebi Eliza sef dey here na, oya talk na.” Mama Titi interfered facing Eliza with seriousness written all over her face.
“Erm! Erm! Erm!. . .”
. . . that was Eliza stammering. Mama Titi and Mama Seun were wondering about the reason for her sudden slow in speech, and were pressuring her to talk, but ‘sebi na only sane person go sabi why insane man dey chop savage on top refuse dump.’ Indirectly, I sabi wetin dey make Eliza stammer. She no wan chop another dose of me, but whether she likes it or not, she must talk. Mama Seun won’t allow her not to and I won’t allow her to miss my dose either!
“Erm, Erm, I saw Aunty Amaka putting a measurement tape around Baba Seun’s thing.!”
“Ah! Lobatan o!” Mama Titi screamed.
“Which one con be thing na, you better talk well well.” Mama Seun screamed.
“Erm, I mean say, Aunty Amaka was measuring Baba Seun’s thing.” She said, making gestural description.
“Was she holding it or how she dey take measure am?”
“Errrm! E don do o Mama Titi!” I lashed out. The woman too like male anatomy but people don’t see it because she gets to hide it well under her ‘spirikoko’ attitude but as Amaka dey take talk am, “Na one robber fit identify the other.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the whole scenario. Baba Seun isn’t Amaka’s type. Maybe whatever they were doing was misunderstood by Eliza and that one sef go hear am from me.
“Well, Mama Seun, I would try and reach Amaka for you because her number is presently not available and whatever that was Eliza saw, I’m sure she misunderstood it.”
“Okay o! Sha warn the stupid girl for me, make e no go chop poison one day.” She hissed and left.
Wow! I just had a comic morning of my life. I just lied to Mama Seun about Amaka’s number not reachable, but seriously what would she have said to Amaka if I had given the number to her? Well, na she sabi o! I entered my room to an annoying sound like a grunting of the pig! Yeah right! That was a man snoring on my bed; yet he had no potbelly and less fat, except for the thing in-between his legs. Been there, done well! Lol!
“Bebe, come to bed now!”
“Thought you were still sleeping?”
What kind of man snores and yet he is awake? I murmured to myself.
“Been awake since jare! What was that about?”
“Your wife is such a raging bitch you know. . .”