The Tale of The Slay Queen on The Danfo

Chief Synner

The Tale of The Slay Queen On The Danfo

I decide today to serve the god of Ajebutter. Just for today. I ditch my usual traditional wear (today is Friday) and opt for a short gown. Anything to remind me that today is big geh day.

My vow lasts for the whole of six seconds. Big geh that enters under the kolo of men-on-suit to hustle for bus, is that one big geh? Tueh!

In the bus, I remember that I should not have rushed for the bus but simply said, “Make way for the Danfo Ambassador. Make way,”

All hope is not lost. I cross my legs: once, twice because short gown and fresh laps must not waste until babes return to jeans. The bros to my right is enjoying the view and I give him a sneak peek into the hairy gates of heaven.

His girl turns his head away and they converse in Igbo,

“Lee anya ebe a,” (Look here)

I ignore them and log into facebook to see a reminder of my F word story series. I share.

I change buses along the way. We sit marun-marun. There is no space to cross my legs this time. The woman beside me is fiddling with her phone. I quickly remove my eyes. Get behind me Satan!

Satan says: No Syn. What’s one more syn to commit? You do such a good job every day!

I sigh. Smooth operator, that one.

I let my eyes fall on the woman’s phone. She is on facebook. She comes across a post: “Type Amen if you know you want to be rich.”

She clicks on the post — Wait, what’s she doing? Her keypad appears. She types A.M.E.N. Shit! I just caught of one the Amen typers!

She scrolls down again. “Share this status and type Amen if death is not your portion.”

She types Amen again. I try to hold myself but fail miserably after she types the fifth Amen. The god of Mind Your Business didn’t serve me the memo today.

“Good morning, Ma. This Amen you are typing, does it work?”

She smiles.

I expect her to say I have faith, I believe . . . I am suddenly bored.

“I believe the man of God,” she says.

I am disappointed, sad almost. I want to tell her that it is a proxy facebook account and that death is everyone’s portion. I ignore her.

I remind the conductor of my change. Ajah park is in sight. I say to the conductor, “My change, please?”

(It is ajebutter day, remember? No pidgin today.)

“Madam, come down for this bus first. Na Ajah park be this!”

“Ogbeni, give me my change. Wetin happen? Na me you dey open eye for? No make I change am for you!” I reply the conductor, my promise forgotten.

I alight before other passengers think I have trust issues.

***

Nna men, how many of you saw one girl in orange gown and gladiator ankle boots running after one Danfo with careless abandon this morning around Ajah Park?

Yes, that was me. *Sigh*

I’ll try to be tush next week. I’m not promising anything but I’ll really try.

 

Kilzes

 

Image credit : The internet

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