ON THE STREETS OF LAGOS

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I have two bottles of chilled Coca-Cola in my hands. My Mother's instructions were clear.
Take the Boli she wrapped inside numerous newspapers to the man at the Trailer Park just 15 minutes' walk from the Garage. I needed no extra information to tell me I was to walk back and forth. When I was finally ready to leave, she squeezed a crispy hundred naira note for two Coca-Cola drinks into my pocket. Good gracious! I exclaimed inwardly; it must be my birthday.
"Make you buy two bottles of shill Coca-Cola as you dey come back" she smiled knowingly, the one for you, one for me kind of smile. I suppose that the later part of our discussion should be a motivation for my movement. There is no lagging, and I could already feel the slithering progression of the drink down my throat.
I believe I made it to my destination in good time, I delivered and waited on the man to send me back to my Mother. He said not to worry that he would be seeing her later. I agreed since she did not mention feedback. Now my mind was fully set on the coca-cola. I knew who sold the chiller drinks, and I knew where I had to go.

****

As I pressed towards the crowd, I made sure to have those glorious bottles firmly secured within my grasp. They mattered more than the gist that was probably making rounds at the moment, the reason for which this crowd has made this insolent gathering. The idiotic woman whom I had prided to be the best seller of cold drinks did me bad. I arrived at her shop with hopes of visiting as short as I had envisioned through my mind's eye. Trust the adults to do the most. She paid her full attention to the grown-ups and waved me aside as if I was less human.

"Wo, omo yii make I quick answer my customers shogbo, I dey come."
So if they were the customers, what was I?

Nothing but pencil in the hands of the creator, I scowled.

I never even gave my consent, and she assumed away. The concept of silence being consent will never see the light in the little world I've created for myself inside of my head. Well, this is real life, and this woman is silly.
When she had satisfied what the desires of her heart were, she turned to me, smiling with muck filled teeth and perhaps the ugliest dimple I've had the unfortunate luck of seeing. Money exchanged hands, and at last off I went.

Comments

  1. EnnyApril 13, 2020 at 11:15 PM

    The interference of Culture in the socio-economic sector is actually mind bothering in this part of the world. Oftentimes, Age, familiarity or contempt comes first in rendering of services. Thank you 'Motolani

    ReplyDelete
  2. UnknownApril 14, 2020 at 2:40 PM

    Enny, thank you for taking the time.

    ReplyDelete

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