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The first thing I saw was a black All Stars, and as I raised my gaze up the rest of the body that owned the voice, I encountered a three-quarter skinny blue jeans and a spotted white shirt. And then I finally looked at his face. “Ugly” was too kind a word to describe the face of this “Uncle”. He was looking at me in that flirty way Damon looks at Elena in the Vampire Diaries, but on him it looked like he was having a vasectomy.
I faced him squarely and tilted my head in a questioning pose, like the way Genevieve Nnaji did in “Tears of a King”. My head was raised at a 37° degree dominatrix angle as I stared at him. My God! He was even short and black.
“Sister can I Know you?”
Before I could reply a loud and thunderous laughter sounded so close beside me that I jumped in fright. It was the Baba Alata laughing uproariously as tears streamed down his face. He tried talking but couldn't as another bout of laugher rocked his fat frame. The “Toaster” in front of me did not take kindly to this and inquired rudely in Yoruba;
“Kilo Kolu Yin” (What Hit You: Trust me this is not something you should say to a Yoruba person older than you are)
Abruptly the man stopped laughing in the face if this new insult. He stood up from his sprawled position and approached the black short boy threateningly. That was my cue to leave. I picked up my bowl of now-grinded pepper and began to walk briskly home. I did not turn back when I heard the fighting start up behind me.
Actually, I was insulted. For a black short boy to approach me, thinking he had a chance with Asake, omo Adunni, I decided that I had to step up my game. I closed the remaining distance to my house. Or more appropriately to the two room apartment we were living in. It was so jam packed and stuffy that I took every opportunity I had to stay outside.
You see, I knew from a very small age that I did not want to be poor. Like Olamide said in his “Street” track, Emi atii poverty, o ni reason tafi fight, mo nii mo lati low, mo de nii mo lati fly, mo nii mii o nii sogun owo mii o de ni gbebo lo si shrine (There is a reason why poverty and I are fighting, I said I must be rich and I must be fly, and I will never do money rituals or carry calabash to the shrine).
I reflected on this as I entered into the house and headed to the kitchen. Even though I was training to be a Celebrity, I still had to learn how to cook, as Iya Asake insists. A grin split my lips as I reached the kitchen. The man that would marry me ehn, O ma gba!
Read CHAPTER ONE
