You know how wise people say wise stuffs like don’t throw stones at glass houses, don’t cross the road with your ears plugged (like i did here) or look left, right and left (or is it right, left, right and left again? Insert confused face here). Well, Zibah here seems to have issues taking to such wise words.
“lol..that is preposterous. I can’t imagine being in such a position” I say.
Oh that’s me with an ear bud tucked tightly into my ears, rocking Ke$ha’s “Die young”, pinging on my Blackberry Torch device and walking absent mindedly on the road. Its final clearance today for my National Youth Service programme (NY–SC). So I’m all decked in a Tom Ford white t-shirt, gucci grey belt, Tommy Hilfiger’s white shoes and a bag hand-made by Donatella Versace specially for my corper wear. Of course I know fashion heavyweights, what do you take me for? My fashionable dressing is to show ’em lazy ladies that can’t function without egunje (bribes) at my assigned Local Government that sticks and stones may break my bones but “….under the sun and in the rain” ain’t got nothing on me (ok that didn’t rhyme so well, I apologise Rihanna) .
In reality, I’m decked in Dove branded white vest, grey NYSC khaki trouser and my Tommy Hilfiger white shoe is in fact a no-name-not-really-white-anymore-due-to-frequent-abuse footies. If a Tommy made this then it must be the Tommy tucked away safely somewhere in Abia state whose last name is Chukwuka or something along that line. See me rambling on, I’ve digressed from the original story line.
So I’m pinging on my BlackBerry device, swapping hardcore gossip, miming to Ke$ha and next thing GBOOM. 1 minute I’m laughing and the next I’m crawling out of a refuse cart that had been placed strategically at the side of the road by a mega smart Einstein. I couldn’t even muster the energy to be livid. The cart had been placed in such a manner that it was upended almost all the way and was like a door…and I apparently just walked right in.
Crawling out with the last vestige of my dignity, I looked grimly at my filthy hands and the stained knee region of my trouser. Someone was holding out a sachet of water to me and i gratefully washed my soiled hands and proceeded to dust my ruined Tom Ford shirt while pointedly ignoring the smear on the lower seam. The left side of the white shoe on my right leg looked like a toddler with a bad attitude and a box of crayons had taken art lessons on it; oil stains, greenish slime etc etc. Just 2 people paused long enough to offer unsolicited advice while the rest of the world moved on as if Zibah hadn’t just walked into a refuse cart and come out alive and in one piece. I’m stained (not badly though) and unharmed though i’m nursing a pretty bruised ego as my pride took a severe beating. i’m also mildly upset and someone is telling me;
“be looking well well next time you hear”.
Dear Lord, if i can just wrap my fingers around the neck of whoever placed this cart here, i promise a swift choking. I dust myself as best as i can and walk on towards the junction were my buddy-Jay is waiting to drive me to Ikeja. A few people stare at me as i walk on by though i’m mostly ignored but i still feel pretty stupid and like i have just successfully put OTONDO to the term Corper.
The worse part was convincing Jay that I wouldn’t leave a permanent aroma in his lovely Honda. I wasn’t booming of course, he just couldn’t resist rubbing it in after I had narrated my ordeal (Dear Lord, please can i choke him too?). Bought a fresh pair of vest, had a shower in Jay’s office (also in Ikeja) and promptly deleted Ke$ha’s entire album from my phone. Yes, I’m petty like that. 24hours later and Its funny writing about it, not like I was mad when it happened though. Can picture my expression and my muffled oomph as I plummeted into a garbage cart richly stocked with kitchen waste, decaying matter and possibly human compost. Chei!
P.S When will I learn my lesson concerning ear-buds on the road?