To the woman who crashed into my car with the force of a wrecking ball a week ago,
My car was stationary as it was impossible to inch forward. We were both stuck in unyielding peak hour traffic, yet your excuse was that you thought I was moving. In plain speak, you took your eyes off the immobile car in front of you and accelerated as if you were cruising along the highway on a Sunday.
My smouldering anger at you was valid, not because of what it would cost me at the auto body shop but because what you did was entirely avoidable. Mindlessly, you told me “This is Nigeria” when I crossly advised you to be more careful in the future. I hope you find yourself in many Nigerias and as you drive daily, may your path be richly coloured with the green-white-greens.
Timi Yeseibo arranges her words gracefully and with well thought-out precision that leaves readers satisfied as though they ate a meal of well-prepared Isi Ewu and Nkwobi washed down with an ice-cold bottle of Maltina.
With each paragraph read, one would either shake their head quickly in agreement as if to say “Eh-hen” or slowly with the clarity that new perspective brings as if to say “Eh-hen”.
So, when she asked me to contribute to her Shifting Gears series, I was thrilled. Soon after, a tinge of fright replaced my excitement – What would I even write about?
When I was much younger, my favourite newspaper was Vanguard, firstly because the front page had the hilarious cartoon “Mr. & Mrs.” illustrated by Dada Adekola with snippets of funny conversations between husbands and wives.
I liked Vanguard for another reason, a weekly column named “Sketches” written by Mr. Aig-Imoukhuede, it was a delightful satire. He had a way with words, he was the breed of Nigerians from the era of the brand new and promising Nigeria. His grasp of grammar was wonderful; words laced with wit and humour that caught one both aware and unawares. Ah! It was splendid.
As far as the gist of this post is concerned, I should have just clicked the reblog button but I couldn’t be bothered with WP niceties.
I’m not the sort to plan and iron my work outfits for the entire week on a Sunday, that type of deliberation on my part can only mean one thing- that I might be PMSing. Well, I simply open the clothes basket just before my shower and one of two things will happen:
- The stars align and I find all the pieces that interlock perfectly to create a great outfit, or
- I convince myself that I’ve nothing to wear even when I’m clearly surrounded by clothes.
This morning, I was looking for something to wear and I came across a skirt that reminded me of a rather delightful incident that happened over a year ago.