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.
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.
"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?"
"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.