INDOMIE AND BREAD

I had even forgotten that I have a blog. I apologize (I seem to be doing that a lot lately). I have not had the grits to write since a while back when I was assured I couldn't but I feel a need to and believe doing this for me is important. This is why I dared to tell this story, scattered and couched in innuendos as it is...I wrote it longhand a while back but never had the mind of sharing but here goes...

He blew in like a tornado, lamenting, albeit jocularly at being deserted by his ‘dad’, who had gone in pursuit of a conquest. I smiled; he was passing me a message at the same time. But he doesn’t miss a beat when he turned around and envelopes me in his warmth. I did not want to overwhelm anyone with my touchyfeelyness so I did not hug anyone even though I wanted to. I sat glued to Ife mi, who grinned all the while.

The first man to come in was the highly dignified one or so I thought. Not that he isn’t dignified just that I later learnt that these ones play hard and when in play mode, they are all kids.

The one who uses Irish Spring only for a bath had come in briefly and left. All made me feel so special, so welcome, especially the ladies. Sebi you know how ladies like to pose, well, these ones didn’t. They looked at me like I must be an alien to have been able to catch his attention. Whatever he told them, I am sure I do not merit. He may be guilty of idolizing but I’d rather that than contempt.

The ladies were graded by size; agbalumo, mango, and watermelon. I wish I could expatiate but it will be more than the liberty that I have been granted. Suffice it to say it involves the contraption or lack thereof of that women use to keep the front in check. They also grade them according to the ability to cook. Which brings me to Dr Brown, who blew in as well like a whirlwind, but one who hoped to do no damage cos he knows he is expected.

They may appear as a ragtag bunch to you but they matter to him and by extension to yours truly. The ladies who smiled shyly every time I appeared were such a delight. The one who called me by name, shocking me into silence, taking time to do my hair, so pretty, with sad eyes. The three, who gladden my heart. The one who asks for 5000 to purchase ingredients for stew, the gutsy one who asks questions that make everyone keep quiet.

The comical relationships: between the one who speaks his mind and the lady that can cook stew as opposed to the others who can only make sauce. He has their wedding after-party all planned out with digs at the last party her family held. Between Dr Brown & the one they refer to as the agbalumo, who is reputed to have a Superpower (I witnessed it oh!) of transforming an agbalumo into a watermelon. He will usually pick her up like she weighs nothing or next to it.  The dignified one will take whoever is left, smiling indulgently like a doting father.

Someone had made indomie. I am unaware how many packs but whoever it was had drowned it in groundnut/vegetable oil. Depending on who told the story, the indomie was inedible, manageable or beyond redemption. Those who wanted to manage to eat it decided to drain the oil and then the dignified one had a brain wave. He asked the one who speaks his mind to go and buy some bread to eat his indomie with….ROTFL! Seriously?!

I enjoyed being in their midst and getting to know each and everyone of them. This story is my thank you. For everything.