Lamentations Of An Ugly Girl – Episode 15 (#LOAUG)

share on:

 

Chibuzor, Chibuzor” Viv’s mother’s voice in the dark startled me a little after which was followed immediately by a cacophony of starting generators.

“Tell Aminu to put on the gen” she said obviously finding Chibuzor. I had called my mom earlier in the day but mum wouldn’t go to bed without calling again. I wonder how she would cope when I go for my NYSC programme. We spoke for a few minutes before I hung up and went to assist Vivian and their house help, Patience to cook melon soup (egusi) we were having for dinner. Before now, I don’t think I had heard Viv speak Igbo so it was quite strange at first; it felt like they were talking about me.

“Vivian, have you prepared the guest room for your friend” Vivian mother asked.

“No, she is sleeping in my room”

“Ok o, she replied.

The next morning at about 5:00am, Vivian woke me up telling to get prepared for church. I was about to ask what church when I remembered they were Catholics. I quickly had my bath, dressed up. Vivian rushed to her corridor said something I didn’t hear to her parents who had been hooting and the car left

“We would go and meet them at church,” she said as she sat at the dressing table. Soon, we were in church and out. The service was quite interesting.

Back at home, Vivian’s father hosted for some friends who looked at him as though to say, “where did you find this one?” since they spoke majorly in Igbo so could only get the occasional “ok” “Moa” and other English words they threw in.

After a while, I had noticed that Chibuzor (Vivian’s younger brother) never came out of his room, if he did maybe to get his food or to play video games. I hope he is not heavily into masturbation (my own opinion).

Vivian’s father on the other hand should be working with JAMB because he asks too much question, some very unnecessary and hysterical. Vivian’s mum, like, every other mum, caring, wants to know what is going on with two young girls, advisor and every other mum quality. Of all them, I was perhaps closer to Viv’s dad. He was astonished that I had good knowledge of politics, very rare from a woman in his own words. We would sit down and talk at length after watching the news. He would explain many things to me majorly the politics of the corporate world, I also would, and sometimes we would argue. He was interested in government at the local level because he felt that was the only was he would make direct impact but he was in a dilemma of the party to run for. He marvelled at the simple logic I gave him, which was making philanthropic visits, giving books, sinking boreholes, cleaning gutters, supporting the health system but with glaring attribute to him so that nobody else will take the glory from it and at the same time making his name popular. So that when he eventually contests, people will vote for the name not the party.

“Amaka, you should be studying political science,” he would say jokingly. He called me Amaka because of his difficulties in pronouncing Tolani, which he pronounces like “kolami”. He was a very jovial man but I always learnt to keep my distance and restrict our talk to politics so as not to set another motion in his wife’s heart (no thanks to African magic!).

3 weeks had passed and there was no sign of IT. We never mentioned it in our numerous discussions.

“Vivian, abeg when we go start IT?” I asked as she slipped into my nighties.

“Like next week o, plus we can’t do it in this house, if we are going to enjoy one bit of your IT because as dey call you say make you quick come back house, dem go know all your Oga and there would be tangible reason for late nights” she continued.

“Remind me to call my brother tomorrow, I have already given him the IT letters,” she said dragging the duvet.

The next morning, after she had obviously called her brother she told me about their discussion and that he asked us to come over during the weekend, therefore we had about a week to pack and go sightseeing. For me, if there is any site I want to see after the Palms shopping mall, it has to be Bola’s house.

“Vivian, abeg when we go go meet Bola sef” I asked.

“That one, idiot, she cannot come and say hi to you here abi, that’s how she does o. She comes here like once in the holiday or maybe when she is passing by” she blurted out her frustration. “Let me even call her sef” she added after a long hiss.

The phone rang immediately but she did not pick up the phone until after the second dial.

“Hello” Bola answered, her voice sounded dragged through the loud speaker. “Mumu, you just dey wake at eleven” Viv replied.

“No mind me joor, I had dick over” she retorted now sounding clear. Immediately Vivian’s face lightened up.

“Bola when you go stop this rubbish, anyway gist me how did it go?” Vivian said obviously excited and eager.

“Which rubbish abeg o? I’ll gist you but not over the phone” she said with a yawn distorting her pronunciation of “gist”.

I had had enough of their banter

“Ashawo, Oga fun e o, you cannot even come and see me in Lagos, if they don kidnap me nko” I hailed.

“T-lines, Omotolani mi, jo ma binu, I’ve been quite busy and things like that”, I cut in.

“Olosho, you’ve been busy strafing Lagos dick, you don’t even have time for any Ibadan pussy abi? God will judge sha”

“Oya abeg, I’ll try and come before the week runs out, pele ehn”

“Na so, before the week runs out until next month na, sha dey use protection” Viv cut in. I had missed our random discussion like this but it just wasn’t complete without our Madam Gagool Liz.

“Let’s put Liz on conference call sef” I suggested.

“Let’s hear what the ‘ogbanje’ has been up to sef” Bola retorted

“Hold on” Viv said as she quickly searched for Liz’s number. It almost didn’t ring when she picked.

“Viv how far” which was replied by shouts and shrieks from all.

“Where una dey?”

“Its conference call jare ore mi” I replied

“Where you dey sef?”

“Allen” she hardly had replied when Viv shouted back “Ashawo, shey u no fit wait till night abi?”

“Ode, I’m at the Etisalat office, The BIS wey I do about three days ago expired for something wey I do one month and I want to even check one IT placement like that” she replied.

Seeing she couldn’t say much, Bola just teased a little.

“How Dami nah?”

“You sabi him school abeg” she retorted

There is another guy abi, sharp girl, ‘ogbanje’, goddess of the canal,” she just giggled.

“If all of una won talk, una go call una sef, no be my papa get MTN, so press red yourself before I do the honour”

“Haba” Bola lamented

“Bye, later jare” Liz replied after which we ended the conversation.

P.S: I am a writer although I might not be able to tell my story adeptly but I can do that completely and truthfully.

Lines

Lines

MEET T-LINES

for the past 13weeks or more you have been reading the escapades and sexcapades of Tolani Gbadamosi popularly known as Lines. Somehow, someway, somewhere in your hearts resonante some sort of emotion albeit love hate, pity and even happiness and i am glad that you have taken this series very seriously and read religiously week in and week out.
Now is the time y’all finally meet me.
I am Gbadamosi Tolani, a character created by writer Oluwabi Mobolaji,who is a reader’s writer and a writer’s reader and yes I am a guy….. scratch that I am a man before you start with your after thoughts. Surprised ehn. Catch me as I blog irregularly on www.mymincedmusings.wordpress.com .follow me on twitter @embijay and keep with the hashtag #loaug while you enjoy the rest of your favorite series. Ciao

1 comment

Leave a Reply