Please pull the trigger

I’m hungry and sleepy and it’s only 8.49am. Who the hell invented work anyway?

Someone who obliviously had no friends or money and needed a medium to meet new people and get paid for it.

My, my, brain. You’re on point today. First intelligent thing you’ve thought of in a while. Sure beats the "Lets move back home and live happily ever after" idea…Twit. Look at me! Young, beautiful and stuck in a windowless office. I think I’m getting scurvy from the lack of vitamin D. Anyway thank God tomorrow is apparently a public holiday.

Why?

Who knows? Maybe they managed to find that guy called Yaradua they’ve been looking for.

You mean the president?

Oh is that who he is?

Erm... yeah! And I’m the twit?

Hey! Don’t judge me. I’ve been here God knows how long and I've never seen him. I thought that guy Lucky Charms (Isn’t that a breakfast cereal?) or whatever was running the place. I thought Yaradua was some kinda comic character that you got a prize for finding? You know, like those “Where’s Wally” books? You don’t know? Though, expand your literature base mate. There’s more to life than Ikebe Super.

Anyway who cares why there’s a holiday. All I know is come 5.45 tomorrow morning I’ll still be snoring(It’s unfortunate but even beauties like myself have flaws) away instead of dragging my behind to the bathroom, praying for clean water to come out of the tap. Not to mention the fact that I won’t have to socialise with the frightening five at my ibi ise.

I’ve tried people. Really I have. But I swear, if I have to listen to Happy Chappy sing “Bumper to bumper” one more time… Not to mention Boli lover who likes to sing “Orobo to Bad o”, every time I walk into a room. Is that supposed to flatter me in some way? I keep finding newspaper wrapped boli on my desk. Lord! I hope the man is not trying to woo me because that would be tragic. The thought of me and him together is just too frightening to contemplate. I know it’s been a while but hell I ain’t that desperate. Even my mother would ask God what she did wrong if I brought this one home. Then again, you never know with my mother so I better keep this under wraps. Lord what is he wearing today? Is that a Safari suit? I’m all for retro, but come on.

Yes I can’t wait. This weekend I plan to do some serious chilling. Switch off my phone, catch some zzzz’s, get my hair and nails done, maybe catch…

Ring

Lord it’s my mother. What now?

“Morning Mother”.

“Look, your dad and I are travelling today”.

“Really? That’s nice. Where are you off too?”

Thank you Lord. I will so not skimp on the offering this Sunday.

“We’re going to Ilorin for the long weekend. We are taking all the staff with us.”

Hang on a second here. Who’s supposed to cater to my every whim?

“But Mummy how will I manage? What if the light go out? How will I use the generator?”

“Use whose generator? God forbid. You better get down to NEPA and sleep with whoever handles light on the Island because you are not touching my gen.”

“Mother please! Was that necessary?”

“Look you are burning my credit. We are travelling and there will be no one around. Do with yourself what you will but just make sure nothing happens to my house before Monday. Don’t bother calling either myself or your father over the weekend as we will both be very busy if you know what I mean” she says giggling like a teenager.

“Ewwww!!! Mother pleeeeeaase.”

"Ori re ko pe. Who are you eeewwwwwing? You think it’s only you young people that know how to have fun?”

“Mother, I would rather not discuss your extra-curricular activities with you”
Especially since it’s been so long since I had any. Can’t believe my mother is getting more action than I am.

What are you saying Mena? But you tell everyone that you are pure and untouched by man?

Shut it brain!! Don’t make me hurt you. Considering how long it’s been that statement is technically not a lie. Oh gee,is this woman is still yammering on?

“I’ll have you know that at my age I am still as supple as any 18 year old. I am waiting for the small girl that thinks she can take my husband away from me."

Steady on kinky grandma. Lets not get our knickers in a twist here. Last I looked the only competition you had for my father's affections was the DSTV box.

"Which one she won do? Na Tantric? I know am. Na Karma Sutra? I don finish the book. You all think you are adventurous because you’re spanking each other. That one na adventure? I beg talk better thing.”

Somebody shoot me now…please.

“You wait till the night before your wedding, and then I will teach you things that have been passed down from generation to generation to all the women in my family. Wo, your husband will not be able to speak for 10 days afterwards. In fact some people still believe I jazzed your father because he was struck dumb for the 1st month of our marriage. Ah! Let me even tell you what my sister, Aunty Jo, told me she used on your uncle Femi the other day.”

“Ok mother I love you but I’m hanging up now”.

Click.

I know that was rude and she’ll make me pay for it later but I had to find a way to keep my sanity. What child wants to know her parents are still getting up to funny business? Ewwwww…Now I can’t get the thought out of my head. I’ll never be able to lampash again. There goes my chilled relaxed weekend. No food, no transport and images of wrinklies doing the nasty to torment me through the NEPAless nights.

That woman should be ashamed of herself. As for my father…well you guys are all like rabbits aren't you? You could be 90, blind, with a heart condition so severe that you’re the poster boy for Bypass operation monthly, but you would still find a way to get your groove on. I advocate a cut off age for all this fooling around business. After 60, we should all be happy with a cup of cocoa and a cuddle before bed time. I ain’t trying to move my arthritic joints around to please any man. Neither will I be traumatising my children with strange squeaking noises coming from my bedroom.

Story, story Mena. Are you trying to say you will send your husband off into the arms of another woman once you hit sixty?

Nope! Who said anything about another woman? I might just drug him and have him neutered whilst his asleep. Simple. He won’t know what’s hit him and I’ll be able to have a good nights sleep without someone trying to wrestle me into unnatural positions on a daily basis. Look it’s not just me that thinks this way you know? I’ve spoken to many married women my age and they all feel the same. They aren’t all ripping off their bra's and covering themselves in melted chocolate every time they hear there husbands car in the driveway(not saying I won't do it but everyday ain't Christmas buddy).

I have a 28 year old friend who sends her husband a text at 3pm everyday to say “What’s it going to be? A home cooked meal or 30 minutes of fooling around"? She's been married for 2 years and she still doesn't know where the kitchen is in her house. Let’s just say her local takeaway has been able to open 3 more branches on her man’s contributions alone. Let’s face it; we all know which one you guys would rather have. So can you imagine 30 years plus of non stop action? Come on give me break. You wan kill me? Me too I be somebody’s pikin.

Erm Mena! You might not want to be saying stuff like that whilst you’re still looking for a man. Maybe wait till you've got him down the aisle before you bring up your 30 year expiry date

Ooopps! My bad. Good thinking brain. Although next time you might want to do your thing before I put my foot in it not after...Twit. You guys all know I was kidding right? I really wouldn’t have my future hubby neutered in his sleep. Hey! Where are you guys all going? Come back. It was just a joke. I beg you; please don’t leave me with Boli Lover.

Mena goes to work

My first day at work.

I’m nervous. Am I overdressed? Under dressed? Will the people there be normal or will I have to break out evil ass Mena by lunch time? Nah! I’m sure everyone will be cool. This is my chance to be the new and improved me. Friendly, efficient, go getter with killer taste. Speaking of which, maybe 5 inch tasselled sandals are not appropriate for work.

Quick shoe change and I run down the stairs before my mum can stick her head out of her room to examine my outfit. She’s already given me a lecture about how I must make sure my desk is strategically positioned next to the MD’s office so all his rich, attractive clients can see me. I chose not to say anything during her “How to nab a man in the work place” lecture. I just smiled and nodded at the appropriate places whilst trying to watch “CSI Miami” over her shoulder. She made some obscure comment about seeing me off to work the next day, so I made a mental note to wake up mega early and avoid the trauma.


Yep! I made it downstairs and no sound of her moving around. Cool the drivers waiting already. I open up the front door, jump in and shout “Drive! Drive! For the love of God drive”.

I need to get out of here before she wakes up and ruins my day.

“Why are you shouting like a lunatic” says an all too familiar voice from the back seat.

My heart sinks. Damn these tinted car windows! How the hell did she get down here without me hearing her? Did she sleep in the friggin car?

“Good morning Mother”

“Isn’t that what you should have said before you started shouting at the poor driver like you pay his salary? Where are you running too? Or is it me you’re running from?”

“No. I just didn’t see you there. Sorry”

“How will you see when you’ve buttoned up your jacket all the way up to your nose? Are you cold? Or are you channelling Maria from Sound of Music?”

“No mother it’s a Victorian inspired jacket with a high collar. It’s supposed to be buttoned up all the way”.

“Really? Sorry Queen Victoria’s daughter. I can see you did not listen to anything I was saying yesterday. So are the men supposed to use x-ray vision to see what God has given you or have you just decided to remain celibate en? ”

“Mother please. It’s my first day at work and I want to look professional. So can we just go instead of arguing about silly things? I don’t want to be late. Tony please let’s start going”

“Tony!"

“Yes Ma”

“What are you doing?"

“I’m driving ma” says Tony in a perplexed tone. He glances at me with a look that says "These rich people have come again with their funny funny questions. Abi I no be driver? So wetin I go do with moto apart from drive am?"

“You’re driving?”

“Yes Ma”

“Did I tell you to drive?”

“No ma but small madam say…”

“Na small madam dey pay your salary?"

“No ma but…”

“Will you come on stop this car before I send you back to your village”.

“Yes Ma. Sorry ma” says Tony throwing me evils as the car comes to a grinding halt.

“You, get out of my car”.

For a moment it doesn’t click who she is talking too. Tony and I look at each other and it’s not until she smacks me upside the head that we both realise she meant me.

“Mum! What did you do that for? Ok! I’m sorry if I was rude but please can we just go? You’re going to make me late for work”.

“I said get out of my car. You are obviously enjoying my leather seats and AC too much. Maybe after you have waited half an hour in the sun for a taxi you will feel the need to unbutton your Christopher Columbus jacket. Oya! Masa masa….out”.

My first thought was “Forget this”. I’m not unbuttoning anything. I’ll bloomin well walk to work if I have too. I don’t need her.

Mena you want to walk where? In your brand new Fendi double platform Mary Jane’s? Not to mention what the heat will do to your newly coiffed bob. You better show the woman some boob and get back in the car.

“Fine mother. You win. I’m an ungrateful child who is ruining your life by not running around naked in order to entice men into our family. Look I’m unbuttoning the jacket. Are you happy now? Can I get back in the car and go to work or would you like to get me fired on my first day so I can become totally dependant on you and daddy”?

"Take off 2 more buttons and then you can get in the car."

Honour thy father & mother. Honour thy father & mother. Honour thy father & mother. Honour thy father & mother. Honour thy father & mother. Honour thy father & mother. Honour thy father & mother.


“Ok Tony, now you can go.”


Finally at work now and I’m slowly starting to realise that all may not be well(Today is so not my day). Instead of the glass fronted architectural beauty the brochure that came with my contract promised, I am standing in front of a dilapidated building with more holes in the driveway than a golf course (Ye! My shoes don finish. How the hell am I going to navigate this assault course?). Forget the pot holes for a minute…What is that smell? Oh! That would be the overflowing drains to my right or no, wait; it just might be the land fill to my left. Lord are you punishing me? Having to live with that unstable woman called my mother is punishment enough; please don’t let this be my office. Ok, I’m going to be calm. I will not immediately storm in there and demand compensation for the emotional torture caused by misrepresentation of their building. Maybe it’s better inside. Maybe I will still have floor to ceiling windows with a stunning view of the river.


Wrong again Missy. Turns out I will be sharing an office space with 5 other people. This was not in my contract. I am in a corner with no phone or computer and someone has carved “Boli is A OK” on my desk. I have no floor to ceiling to windows. In fact I have no windows at all. But I do have a perfect view of the desk across from mine which I suspect is now occupied by the boli loving culprit as he is chomping away on one whilst grinning insanely at me.

I am given a pen, a pad, some loo roll and a stern warning never to request for stationery unless my life depends on it. I am also told to guard my loo roll like Fort Knox as I will only get 1 a month. On asking why they just didn’t put loo rolls in the ladies like normal people. The Stalin of Stationery Ville bursts into uncontrollable laughter and walks away without even answering the question. Hmmm…I wonder? Could they somehow have got wind of my stationery pilfering back at my old ibi ise? Nah! I’m sure there’s another reason for it.

I sit down and try to make myself comfy at my new desk. Before I can even arrange my pad and pen in a straight line, Boli Lover has perched himself at the edge of my desk and is still grinning insanely. The guys starting to freak me out.

“So who do we have here? What’s your name sweetheart?” he says rubbing his greasy boli hands on his already scary looking trousers. Great! Just my luck to be stuck with someone who is obviously allergic to basic hygiene.
I give him the once over…it’s highly unlikely this guy has a higher position than me. The unmatching jacket and pants don’t say Snr. management but then again you never know so I’ll put bitchy ass Mena back in her cage until I know better.

“Hi! I’m Mena”.

“Nice name. I’m… (We shall refer to him as Boli Lover).Welcome to our little family. Over here on your right is …"

Bad Weave Girl– The only other girl on the team. Her weave is the scariest thing I've ever seen. It’s like 4 different colours and lopsided, so it looks like it’s trying to escape from her head. What is it even made of? Is it hair or recycled tyre fibres? She’s done nothing but stare at my handbag since I walked in here. If she strained any harder to see the label her head might just snap off her damn neck. Hey sweetie don't bother it ain't from Balogun. I can already tell that we so ain't gonna get along.

Mioaw Mena! Aren't we in bitchy drive today? Now I think we all know a bad weave doesn't necessarily equate into a bad person. She could be lovely.

Shut up brain. I've told you not to interrupt with pointless observations when I'm busy hating on a fellow sister. Now who's next.

Ladies Man – Not bad looking and he knows it. Trying to give me sultry I’m not interested in you looks but I ain’t buying it(I've looked round the office. The talent in here is minimal. I'm like rain after the drought brother, so get over yourself and admit defeat. You want me). Neither is Bad Weave chick by the look of things. Her focus has shifted from my bag to his face and she ain’t happy. Seems we have a little case of unrequited love going on here.

Happy Chappy – He seems harmless enough. All grins like a little Chipmunk. Seems to have a thing for singing Fuji songs as he types which might become slightly annoying after a while but I think I might get on with him.

Finally there’s Grumpy – He’s actually runs this little kingdom called my dept. He nods a greeting, plunks a bunch of reading material on my desk and informs me that I need to go through them as we have a meeting in 2 hours. Gee, just chuck me into the thick of things why don’t you? I better get started.

"Hey!!!!! Where did my pen go"?

I look around and everyone is pretending to be busy and seemingly ignoring the fact that my pen, which was on my desk 2 seconds ago, has now vanished into thin air. No one else has been in the dept so it's obvious that one of my new colleagues is a tad light fingered. In a panic I check under my desk to make sure my bag's still there. Phew! That's a relief but looks like I'll be visiting Stationery Stalin sooner than expected. This is not good. With my loo roll safely in hand, my bag on my shoulder, I head towards the stationery cupboard with a prayer in my heart that I'll make it back alive.


Welcome to ibi ise Niaja style.

Fella's put your left hand up.

Mena!!!!

For goodness sake that’s the 3rd time in the space of 30 minutes. Is this woman trying to kill me? She better not want me to bring her something which is currently only meters away from her again or else. Everyone should just leave me alone. Why can’t I be allowed to sit in my towel, under the AC, drinking water in peace? If I have anything to do with it, this is where I plan to sit for the rest of my life. Under the cool refreshing air. It’s too hot to be anywhere else. My once caramel complexion has been singed to a dark chocolate hue by the sun and I’ve had to hack off my imitation Aunty Funmi hair, Sister Kofo, just to stop my brain from frying in the heat. Nope I ain’t moving from here.

By the way, well done to all you evil people that have been coming to London to lie to all of us about the good life you were living over in Niaja. All of you should clap for yourselves. Ah ah! Come on. Clap louder now. Jokers! Parties and red carpet event galore abi? Change my hair and nails every week en? Snails the size of hamsters, bars, clubs, restaurants. Name it and I’ve got it right? What you all forgot to mention was one little thing called MONEY!!! Owo, Kudi, Cash, Wonga. Whatever you want to call it but I sure as hell don’t have any at the prices you people are charging. I paid 1000 Naira for a can of tuna the other day and only as I was about to open it did it occur to me that the price was the equivalent of £4. In all my years I have never seen a can of tuna that cost 4 quid let alone eaten one.


Ah ah! Mena. Soon to be Lagos big girl like you? What’s a 1000 Naira? Please stop embarrassing yourself.


I beg. I beg. Don’t even annoy me today o because I don’t know who told you that tuna is now the gauge by which Lagos big girls are measured? If I were casually hitting your head with my designer bag now you won’t even be able to get upset because you would realize that you were being assaulted by true taste and beauty. On the other hand, if I were to casually chuck a can of tuna at your head would you even wait to hear that it cost £4 before you committed GBH on my fine self? Yeah, just as I thought. So please everyone should stop telling me that I am not acting like a big girl because I refuse to pay your rip off prices for everyday essentials. Anyway this rant is for another day. I will deal with you all one by one, as soon as I learn how not to pass out in extreme weather conditions.

Mennnnnnnnnnnnnaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oooooh! Is this woman really my mother? She’s done nothing but torment me since I arrived. It’s like being a teenager again...

"Mena why is your room a mess?"

"That top is not revealing enough."

"That skirt is too long (Nope it's not a typo. My mother is determined to get me married at all costs even if it means dressing me up as the whore of Babylon and putting me on a street corner with my bride price tattooed to my forehead)."

" You mean you're at home on Friday night when your mates are out meeting men?"

"No you can’t have the generator on because they are showing Law & Order. Do you think diesel is free or is your imaginary husband a diesel merchant?"

" No you can’t eat food bought on the street."

Now I can just about take most of her nagging but damn it! If a girl wants to buy gala, then a girl should be allowed to buy Gala (What the hell is Gala made of anyway? All answers on the back of a postcard please). I’ve been craving all my school day snacks…Gala, Fan ice, Chocó Milo (See all the brand placement I’m doing. You people won’t send me free stuff now or better still pay me an obscene amount of money to be the new face of your product? I can’t afford to buy cherry tomatoes to go with the £4 tuna either so any endorsement deal will do) but can my grown ass self have any? Of course not because when you’re in mother’s car you have to abide by mother’s rules. I need to get my self sorted and get out of here. This getting married thing ain’t looking so bad all of sudden. It’s either that or I’ll be forced to move into the BQ just to avoid her. It all went down the other day when I made the mistake of leaving the card of some no hoper that tried to chat me up where she could find it and I almost ended up out on the street.

“What’s this?”

"Just some useless guy’s card."

"En useless guy. Do you know who this is?"

"Nope and I don’t care. He wasn’t doing anything for me."

"Ye! My own don finish o. What kind of child do I have?"

"Mother please get off the floor."

"Ah Daddy Mena! Come see your child o. She’s turning down the Minister of petroleum’s son. Not Agriculture o. Petrrrrrooooooooooooooleum.”

"Mother please calm down. Stop rolling around like you're auditioning for a Nollywood movie. How was I supposed to know who he was? Anyway what does it matter whose son he is?"

"What does it matter? Who do want to marry? An Okada driver? Your Aunty Sade has been in Ovation 22 times. Yes I have counted. 22 times just because her daughter is married to the son of a common chairman at some Brewery. She’s always coming here in the Land rover they bought for her to pose for me. You! Who couldn’t even bring back common sausages for your mother because you said it would make your clothes smell, you now want to deny me my chance to beat her record by refusing the son of the man that makes this country run? You will not succeed in destroying my happiness. No! I say you will not succeed. Lord! I cast out the demons in this child. Yes! I cast them out. Let me go and get my bible and my holy water then we will see which one of us is in charge today. Before I come back you better bring out your phone and start dialing my future son-in-laws number.”

“Mother please. You're acting all crazy. The guy’s like 4ft 2 and smells like goat (really he did)”.

“I don't care if he doesn't bathe and needs a ladder to open his car door. I said bring your phone or you’re leaving this house tonight. A child that says her mother will not be able to display her Jason & Son lace in Ovation or ride hummer jeep will not sleep in this house tonight”.

Needless to say my father had to be called in to put a stop to the impromptu exorcism of my single girl demons and my eminent eviction. I thought everything was back to normal until I came home the other day to find that she had installed a find a husband count down chart in my room. She takes great joy in coming in to tick off the days with a permanent marker. I tried to rip it off the wall but turns out she’s had it permanently screwed up there. According to her calculations I have 8 weeks to go. I’m ignoring her. She’s not really going to kick me out for not bringing home a boyfriend in 8 weeks? Would she? What does she expect me to do? Drag random men off the street to please her? Anyway she better be careful what she wishes for because in the short time I’ve been here I’ve come to the realization that Lagos guys are dangerous.


What is with you guys over here? I thought London was bad but come on; Lagos guys scare the living daylights out of me. It’s like you’re all on constant heat. Is it the weather? Or are they putting something in the water? I can’t leave my house without some random no hoper making some pervy comment at me. Everywhere I go it’s like …

"Baby you’re buriful?"

"I’m what?"

"Buriful.I say you’re buriful. Very lofly."

Ok! Stop please. I don’t know what language you’re speaking or if you have a speech impediment but I’m assuming you’re trying to tell me I’m hot.
NEWS FLASH! I know I’m hot. That’s why I’ll be ceasing this conversation immediately because not only am I hot did you not notice the Gucci bag, the Pied de Terre shoes(Sale!!! Bargain!!!! but he doesn’t need to know that) and the bangin weave. You did? So what in the hell possessed you to even talk to me? Don’t even get me started on the geriatric’s who are old enough to be my dad trying to slip me their numbers. But the worst thing is the fact that the guys I might actually be interested in, who are my age, speak English, have a J.O.B. and can hold down a decent conversation for more than 5 minutes without passing out from mental exhaustion are the sneakiest of the bunch . They all seem to have developed a very bad habit of not wearing their wedding rings.


I’m sorry. Is that I’m too old to keep up with current trends (Yeah, like that’s ever gonna happen) or when did it become acceptable to get married and not wear a ring? Your wife is wearing one so what makes you so special? Ladies what are you thinking let him out of the house without some sign that he’s taken? For goodness sake he better be wearing a ring or at least a sign saying "I’m married but I am allergic to metal or after paying for my wife’s big ass diamond I can’t afford a ring for myself". I’m not saying wearing a ring prevents a guy from cheating or a total bitch from making a move on your man but at least it gives us girls who want to live right a chance.


On 2 separate occasions I’ve been chatted up by guys, who truth be told I thought were kinda cute. I was already picturing what our kids would look like, only to find out they were both married. Did I know? Nope. Would I have pushed out my 38GG assets (I know. God help me. I’m still saving up for boobie reduction surgery), fluttered my eyelashes and pretended to understand the current global fuel crisis if I had? Highly unlikely. I don’t waste my beauty flash balm enhanced looks on non potential hubbies. Fortunately for me I happened to find out before any dates were had and any germs exchanged, that they were taken. By the way, next time you dodgy guys are out on the pull you might want to put your phone on silent because believe me the "You don make me fall in love" ringtone is kind of a give away that there might be someone else in the picture. But can you imagine what could have happened if I hadn’t found out? I would probably be in hospital by now recovering from the trashing some displeased wife and her friends had given me after spotting me with her husband. Thinking about it, it’s not even the beating that would hurt the most. It’s falling for the two-timing bastard, investing time, effort and not to mention some bad ass date outfits on him, only to find out it was all for nothing. What’s an innocent single girl to do when that happens? I guess I’ve been lucky so far but how long is my luck going to hold out for? I’m not always going to know someone who happens to know the devious bastard who's trying to get one over on me and his wife. So what’s a girl to do? How do you spot the single blokes from the pervy married ones?

Maybe I should just send all interested applicants in my buriful self to my mother. She’s the one who’s desperate for a son in-law so she can sheaf the wheat from the chaff.Speaking of which, she’s stopped calling me. That can’t be good. She's probably making her way to the BQ as we speak to disconnect the cable that connects the generator to my room. Thats her new form of torture. It means I'm forced to leave the sanctity of my boudoir and sit with her watching Al Jeezera news channel for the rest of the day. Yep! there go the lights and the AC. I must have been a very bad person in a previous life.