On a quiet night like this, an oyibo girl (white girl) wooed me, only to threaten me with police the next day. How could I have known it was all a game. Ol’ girl was fine ass hell, and had an ass you couldn’t look at with your mouth closed. In my mind I was like: where and how did that come about? Maka chukwu, still staring, I asked: how did all that come to plant itself so notoriously on the rear end of nwa bekee.
You are so cute, I love your attire. She told me.
He’s a stylish man isn’t he, she would tell her friend. Nwa bekee literally stopped me in my tracks. Pulled up a phone and asked her friend to take a photo.
Not to thump my chest though, I was dope as fuck on that day. I had just landed Wales three weeks ago. I had this wicked Gucci shoes on, a River Island pant, a blue and white stripe shirt, and some sick wool jacket I bought off E-bay. I bounced majestically on the promenade, beneath the yellow evening lights overlooking the Cardigan Bay.
Take my number, she said. I would like to see you again. You are from London right, she kept asking. I tried to say no, but she would insist it is where I’m from. Ngwanu! I let her ramble on, as she giggled in between her words, beaming with a smile that can end a war.
I go home thinking, boy what was all that? What in Amadioha’s earth was that? That which one would usually climb a sycamore tree for was suddenly at one’s doorstep. What, I asked myself, did I do to deserve such fortune?
And then I call the next day. Something like half-past-ten. Who is this? That’s what the voice asked. I don’t know you.
How nah. I tell myself. Nobi she carry her hand save the number for my phone, even type her name put?
I urge the gods of my ancestors to arrest the joke that was unfolding o.
I dial the number again, and this time I am even surer it was her voice, but lo, the whole thing come enter rough play o.
I will report you to the Police if you call my number again.
Hey! Police? I ask myself in shock, seconds after quickly ending the call.
Policikwa?
Na ala bekee?
How Police take enter this matter? You that was all over me yesterday? You for kuku tell me you were drunk nah, and all those compliments were wash. Under the influence matter. E never reach to call police nau.
My people, na so oyibo geh for take land yours truly inside cell o. Barely three weeks into what became a two year sojourn.
MO
You are so cute, I love your attire. She told me.
He’s a stylish man isn’t he, she would tell her friend. Nwa bekee literally stopped me in my tracks. Pulled up a phone and asked her friend to take a photo.
Not to thump my chest though, I was dope as fuck on that day. I had just landed Wales three weeks ago. I had this wicked Gucci shoes on, a River Island pant, a blue and white stripe shirt, and some sick wool jacket I bought off E-bay. I bounced majestically on the promenade, beneath the yellow evening lights overlooking the Cardigan Bay.
Take my number, she said. I would like to see you again. You are from London right, she kept asking. I tried to say no, but she would insist it is where I’m from. Ngwanu! I let her ramble on, as she giggled in between her words, beaming with a smile that can end a war.
I go home thinking, boy what was all that? What in Amadioha’s earth was that? That which one would usually climb a sycamore tree for was suddenly at one’s doorstep. What, I asked myself, did I do to deserve such fortune?
And then I call the next day. Something like half-past-ten. Who is this? That’s what the voice asked. I don’t know you.
How nah. I tell myself. Nobi she carry her hand save the number for my phone, even type her name put?
I urge the gods of my ancestors to arrest the joke that was unfolding o.
I dial the number again, and this time I am even surer it was her voice, but lo, the whole thing come enter rough play o.
I will report you to the Police if you call my number again.
Hey! Police? I ask myself in shock, seconds after quickly ending the call.
Policikwa?
Na ala bekee?
How Police take enter this matter? You that was all over me yesterday? You for kuku tell me you were drunk nah, and all those compliments were wash. Under the influence matter. E never reach to call police nau.
My people, na so oyibo geh for take land yours truly inside cell o. Barely three weeks into what became a two year sojourn.
MO
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