We’ll Never Know

As a good girl, I accompanied my old man to a certain place in a certain area called “Ghana House”. Little did I know that I would pick up something interesting to write about.

Ghana House.
Dilapidated doesn’t even start to describe it
I wondered whether the occupants paid rent
And if they did, for what fee were they staying in such a shack
I stopped staring
Partly fearing that the leftover bricks that kept it standing would crumble right before my eyes

The women didn’t seem to be fazed though
With their skins well-bleached, and stretch marks that looked like stitches
I wondered how long they had been in Nigeria
My old man conversed with one of them in one of their many native languages
While the others tended to their various duties
Making, and serving dokunu and groundnut soup or atta
With cube-sized pieces of meat

He came then
Ordered a portion of what looked like a hill in murky water
And settled to start his meal
He was interrupted by one of the women
“Uncle owo yin daa?”(Uncle, where is your money?)
Ahan, mo ti son owo fun yiin”(I have paid your money)
Raraa o! Elo le san?” (No o,how much did you pay?)
“Sebi mo ti fun yin ni #100”(Have I not given you #100)
“Tale fun? E fun mi ni owo kankan o”(Who did you give? You didn’t give me any money o)

The argument continued for a few more minutes before all went calm
He started eating his meal
And he waited till he was done before he reached into his pocket
Mo ti son wo o. Ibi yii le joko si nigba ti mo san wo. Mi o wa ibi ri. #150 ni mo mu wa sibi, mo de ti fun yin ni #100 lare e” (I have paid o. This was where you were sitting when I paid. I haven’t been here before. I brought #150 here and I have given you #100 out of it)
He went ahead to bring out what I initially thought was a #50 note
But my eyes fail me sometimes
I heard my brother snicker
Then it caught my eye too,
It was a #20 note
He stretched it out to one of the women who did not hesitate to rain curses on him while the others joined

Old man paid his bill and I missed the concluding part of the drama
No matter what happened though, one thing was sure
He didn’t leave with an empty belly
But whether he was telling the truth or not
We’ll never know


9 Comments Add yours

  1. Oluwaseyi Oladipo says:

    A good way to end a good story. Cheers!

  2. vixenpixie says:

    Nice…really apt.

  3. proteus92 says:

    I want to see something you squeezed out of your head. You’re a writer, so show me the renaissance god in your head. show me with ink.

  4. Bimpe Modder says:

    Nice to see you writing about people. Real people who make the vast of our world, ordinary lives that show the challenges of thriving in this world we all call home. While some of us take so much for granted, some have to use their wit to get a meal. Touching piece.

  5. Effie says:

    me likey 🙂

  6. Goke says:

    (whispers of life’s sadness)…care 2 guess how much d man makes daily,even monthly…too bad his stomach doesn’t care…(whispers of life’s unfairness)…anoda lovable piece 4rm R.A.W.Kp it up!

  7. J says:

    LOL! This IS Lagos abeg!! Haha

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