My mother ran into my room yesterday(Yes, she ran. She is rather sprightly for her age), bursting with excitement. I initially thought my sister had blabbed about my latest crush and she was coming in to discuss how best to make my humble self appear marriageable. So, I slowly pushed my new copy of “South South Boys in thongs” (Don’t judge me)under the blanket and prepared for a marathon pep talk. But instead of launching into her usual tirade, she says…
“Mena get up and see what I just bought you”
I had a sudden moment of overwhelming joy. E be like say my own don better!
My parents have finally bought me a new car. All my begging didn’t fall on deaf ears. The pictures of cars subtly placed on their breakfast plates, bathroom mirrors and in their shoes must have worked. I wonder what they got me. It had better be my Porsche Cayenne Jeep or else!
Ah ah! Mena! You no greedy at all o.
En! Are you talking?!
Please, please, please… respect yourself. When Porsche Cayenne Jeep owners are talking please don’t involve your Peugeot 504 driving self. Abi, they said ask and it shall be given unto you. Nah my fault you no ask God for wetin you want? I have been planning on how to oppress my enemies for a long time and I now know it wouldn’t be with my weave or my Manolos but from the lofty heights of my Porsche jeep.
I will no longer walk anywhere. Even if I need to withdraw cash from the Zenith bank next door. The fact that it will take me longer to go round the one way system to get there is irrelevant. I will drive my jeep there. In fact, come Monday morning I will be driving my jeep into my office building (Yes, you heard me… Into the building) and will park it right next to my desk.
In fact, fashe that.
I will move my desk into my car. Anyone requiring my account management skills will have to tap gently on my windscreen and depending on my mood I might or might not lower my automated windows to discuss their business needs.
My Porchy baby… I can’t wait.
Mummy will look after you. I’ll get you your own team of Hilux driving personal bodyguards who will protect you at all times.
Smack down now, talk later kinda guys…
“En you are looking at Madam’s car!!!??? “
“U dey craze!? Will you come on avert your koro koro eyes from the morrar vehicle immediately? Abi, you wan use your evil eye to crack the windshield?”
“Ye! Okada man, you touch Madam’s car?”
“U don kolo ni? You dey use better thing to keep your balance on that useless looking Suzuki motorcycle. Next time even if trailer dey behind you, you better fall and let it drive on top of you before you touch my Madam’s car again.”
Ah yes!! Porchy baby and I will be very happy together. Might not even need a man. I’m sure the immense satisfaction of watching the little people scurry out of my way when I drive past will be better than marriage or sex.
Oh yeah, forgot she was trying to break the good news to me. Must act surprised when she whips the key out of her bra.
My mother hides anything important in her bra. At any one time she has a picture of my father, her bank account details, car keys and some of her real jewelry swimming around in there. Her argument being, no armed robber wants to go rummaging around in a 60 year old’s bra. E go do her like film trick…No be only oyinbo dey kinky.
“Yes Mummy, you were saying.”
“Hisss… it’s not your fault. I’m about to give you something that will change your life forever and you are daydreaming.”
You bet it’s gonna change my life forever. No more begging you for rides every time my death trap on wheels decides to croak on me. I can come and go as I please. I’m free at last!
“Sorry Mummy, I’m listening. I promise.”
Make it snappy ol’ lady. Mena’s got Okada’s to run over.
“Close your eyes and stretch out your hands”.
Ooooohhhh!! Why is this woman always so dramatic? Fine, I’ll close my eyes just to make this a little faster. Oh my God! I’m so excited. I think I might just have peed a little.
I can feel something in my hands. It doesn’t feel like the keys to no car I’ve ever seen. It feels like a cross between rubber and armor plating and whatever it is, weighs a ton. My heart starts to sink and I reluctantly open one eye to see what I’m holding.
What the …
Both eyes are now open and in my hands is a black mesh like garment that looks like a medieval torture instrument.
“Mummy what is this?”
It had better be an aerodynamic driving suit worn by all the celebrities to make their Porsche Cayenne’s go faster or else.
“Do you like it?”
“How can I like it when I don’t know what it is?”
“It’s the Man Catcher by Body Wowo. It supposed to be the latest thing in girdle wear.”
Ewwww… Girdle wear. I don’t do girdles. I do Spanx.
Same thing genius.
You are still here Chairman of the Peugeot Rotary club? Please I’ve warned you to stop trying to feel amongst by speaking to me. Like I said, I don’t do girdles. Mamas do girdles. Lagos bigzzz girlzz do Spanx…Razzo.
My mother is practically jumping up and down in excitement.
“Read the label and then try it on. You’ll see how good it is.”
Read wetin? The only thing I want to read right now is a bit in the Bible that says I can kill my mother under extreme emotional distress.
“Go on read it.”
Fine! If it will make her leave my room any faster, so I can sob over my crushed Porchy baby dreams, I’ll read the darn thing…
Men no dey look u again? Dog dey chase you for road? You go market and dey think sey you be Malu? Ah! My Sister that mean your borry don Wowo finish. But no cry o. No go Babalawo. Tell your mama make she no fast for you again because Man Catcher by Body Wowo don come to your rescue. Once you don wear am finish, Men go just dey follow you yanfu,yanfu. Make you wear Man Catcher today and unwowo di wowo for your borry.
Lord help me! What is this trash?
Yes, I might have a small, hardly noticeable tumtum and maybe my boobies ain’t where they used to be but that is surely no reason for this major insult. My body no wowo o. Even if it was, God forbid that I will wear this local market woman product.
“Go on try it on.” Says my mother tugging at my pj’s .
“Mummy please I don’t need this and I am not trying anything on. Now please take this away and let me finish reading my maga…I mean book on “How to meet and marry rich people.”
Several smacks and an ear pulling later, I am standing starker’s in the middle of my room whilst my mother helps me pull on this contraption.
15 minutes of tugging later and … Oh Lord! I can’t believe it. My tummy’s disappeared and I can see my feet again (so in need a manicure). My boobs are practically under my chin and I do believe that’s an ass I can see behind me. Turns out the Man Catcher might be a miracle worker after all. I look like a coca cola bottle with hair. My mother has finally done something right. Can’t wait to go out and show off my new figure. Gee, it is a bit tight though and breathing is becoming a tad bit difficult. But who needs air when you look this good?
Hmmm…What are those black spots floating around my eyes and why is the floor suddenly rushing towards my face?
Hey! Who turned out the lights?
Written by Mena, The Woman on The Brink.