Small Wonders!

Today I walked my sister-in- law to the busstop so she could get a taxi home. On my way back a car filled with men stopped by me. I am naturally suspicious so I took a step back and made sure that I could escape quickly if the need arose. I thought they were stopping to ask for directions but they apparently had other things on their mind.

Their first question was where are you going? That was when I realised they were up to no good! Home I replied and backed away, they must have seen the apprehension on my face for they burst into laughter and asked me if I was afraid of them, I replied in the affirmative. We are civil servants they replied as if that was supossed to allay my fears, Civil sevants what has that got to do with a kettle of fish like my uncle usually exclaims, Did I look like a mugu?

In these days of kidnappings and all, why should I trust or listen to anyone solely on the basis of his job! Anyway I walked backwards towards where I could see a few people, the next thing I heard was from the driver, Can I have your number? Now I knew that I was in trouble,I just ignored them and got the hell away from them.

See me see trouble o! When no be portharcourt I de?

Comments

  1. Anonymous2:16 AM

    wow,where did it happen
    come to think of it
    it was on my birthday
    somethings will just never change
    kenny olajide

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Death III

Image
In recounting my near misses, I can't but think of how many other misses I am unaware of. As a child, I was the only one who was hospitalized a few times compared to my siblings and cousins. I cannot remember if I ever felt sick enough to be at deaths door, but I do know I disliked getting injections. During one of my trips to the hospital I was to receive a Novalgin injection, for those of you old enough to remember Novalgin, it was the most painful torturous injection ever. I screamed hell and blue murder as the nurse approached with a Novalgin shot. 'I don't take injections', I lamented in my most piteous voice, you would think anyone with a heart would see the tears and back down but those nurses were a special breed. After a few minutes of my temporary madness, my father was summoned, it took just one look from him and I accepted the drilling of the syringe through my marrow (that was what it felt like) without as much as a squeak. The feeling Novalgin gave your bu...
Read more

Death 5

Image
Over the past few years, I have observed with much more attention, the passage of generations. I listened to the retirement speech of an old teacher of mine in medical school. She spoke about wondering why a classmate of hers in high school was bereft because her father had died in his 50s. Her own parents were in their 30s and according to her, she thought 50 was ancient. She tactlessly commented about her friends grief wondering why she was so distraught. She made us all laugh when she mentioned that now at the age of 70, she does not count herself as one of the ancients. My job brings me face to face with death on a daily basis and this has spurred me to put my house in order. I have had documents prepared for the disposal of my earthly benefits and I have appointed financial and health power of attorneys. I mention, like I mentioned in my last post to prevent the DMs that never fail to follow these posts, that I am not actively dying but I think preparing for death is as important ...
Read more

My Mother Tongue!

I grew up speaking English as my first language and I can tell you that is one fact I am not proud about. I remember once when we were much younger shouting out the only Yoruba words we knew as children 'olosi', 'oloriburuku' etc. My grandmother came out of the house hurriedly to put a stop to our foolishness, what on earth did we think we were doing? she asked, our reply still puts a smile on my face 'we are speaking Yoruba' we replied. My lack of proficiency in speaking Yoruba ( I can write it:) is revealed anytime I speak to my patients. When our conversation is not just me answering in monosyllables, I begin to speak rapidly in my mother tongue but by the end of my first two sentences, I hear myself stuttering and stammering and Im wondering if the patients don't think this doctor is having a sudden attack of catatonia! My Yoruba teacher in Secondary school summed up my Yoruba speaking prowess to my parents during an open day 'She is a good student b...
Read more