You know how conversations between good friends go? Effortless, Agenda-less, Unscripted. That’s how my conversation with you today is gonna be.
Honestly speaking, all this probably stems from how I’ve somehow gotten myself into the busiest of all schedules I’ve had for a while now and my Muse seems to have deserted me at my most vulnerable point – probably to chase greener pastures (this ecomini dierr?!). Like someone told me to expect a while ago, I seem to have been set adrift from family and friends in all this world of ‘grownup-ness’, you know what I mean? But I digress..
First of all, today, you’re my de facto bestie and we’re gonna talk about the day I’ve had.
So, after coming out of theatre this morning, while parasiting on a colleague’s plantain chips (I’m honestly not really a fan but the hunger was real then), a Nigerian movie was playing on the small changing room TV in which Ini Edo was talking harshly to a guy and #TwiBrofoAlert# ‘removing his one for him‘ (translated: taking him to the cleaners). You could virtually see the slivers of his broken heart tumbling to the ground…
I almost wouldn’t have noted Mr. D.’s significant interest in the story if he hadn’t harrumphed loudly at the end of the scene, turning to me as he began.
“If a woman doesn’t like you eh?!” He shook his head as he seemed to share the feeling of betrayal with the young man’s character.
“When we were in NTC [Nursing Training College]…”, he started. My ears at once perked up as I gave up trying to listen half-heartedly to the story that I’d initially thought would be dull and too kolo for my tastes, instead putting aside my post-op notes to listen attentively to this decades-old tale of young women and men and unrequited love. Now Mr. D is probably in his late 40s or early 50s, a self-respecting man of admirable character, so I knew this would be a good one.
He resumed his tale. “This young man then, who later became a *National Official* some years ago, used to drive to come and look for this young lady at our NTC. They would go out and afterwards – Dr Hassan, do you know the value of ten cedis then? I mean the ten cedis of old. It was a lot of money those days. The first time he gave her ten cedis before he dropped her off and she came to all of us and told us everything that had happened including how much he had given her – ten cedis o! And he even used to give her more in the subsequent visits. But she obviously didn’t like him because she used to come back and tell us everything that had happened. The men she liked and was chasing dier, she never told us anything that happened between them [or if they even had anything to give to her]. Se knew she didn’t like him but she kept collecting his gifts and money, only to talk about him someway behind his back! Hmmm, when a woman doesn’t like you…your life can be so miserable!”
I think at this point, Mr. D remembered that he was the cool calm and collected type and such a tell-all was uncharacteristic of him so he stopped abruptly – I suspect on the verge of more revelations – and sighed once more, shaking his head.
Or maybe it was the way I’d somehow ended up on the edge of my seat, ears twitching for more like Biscuit that drew him back to his mean. I dunno.
Funny thing though is that the more things change, the more they remain the same. 20 years plus on and it’s not Ten Cedis now but it’s tickets to shows, weekends away at spas, personal chauffeur service all over Accra/Kumasi, or even pizza that are given away as a show of interest/love to She-Who-Likes-You-Enough-To-Spend-Your-Money-But-Not-Enough-To-Date-You. And by all means so far, ‘No, thank you’ has never been found in her Book of Known Phrases…
Bestie, do you think it’s fair?
Anyway, I’ve got another case to do in a minute so let me get back to you in a bit yeah?
Oh yeah, and that thing? You know, the one you’re so Desperate to find out??? It’s almost ready