The Year of the West African- May the Day Break!

I am walking home from wherever, and he stops in his shorts, and I think to myself you have an uncanny resemblance to M, is it the forehead, or the nose that should have it’s own head coming at you (see deer in headlights).
He inquires on whether I would like to get my friends together as he does a whole exercise regime… I think good idea, but that is part of the reason I like my hoodies, trackies, vests and sandals- still is a good idea… dressing up the thought of working out, right?

So you have been seeing me around, huh? and I drift off grinning inwardly thinking to myself I still got it!’ Then I realise he probably has the same thoughts that wear you out when you see someone extremely overweight and obese. They shuffle, or waddle along, huffing and sweating up a storm, and making a show out of every movement made…. Even the smiles disappears the eyes (see moon face)
Then I think “… oh oh, surely I don’t look that, as you steal a hopeful glance -tummy tucked in, head up, shoulders back - at the nearest reflective surface *sigh* thank God!... it’s not as bad-

I figure ‘fuck it and fuck you…’ and go ahead with my passive aggressive routine and say… “I will ask around… oh, and well done, thank you for working” while actually my eyes are saying… kiss my big wide arse, aint working out with you.



Fast forward to friend in hospital… she was in a road accident- never good is it? She in pain, due for operation, boyfriend equally banged up- they made an odd banged up, couple… so I jump in, coz I have some free time on me…. And enter Liberian boy, who hovers. I could barely understand his Creole-wanna-be-American accent at the beginning, but his love for clothes with designer labels conspicuously placed, kind of took me back to college, when we had our wardrobes pledge their loyalty to karl kani, D&G, Versace, South Pole, Nike, ADIDAS…. (soma label).
Then got to practice my modest French on him, and giggled like school kids each time we literally stole away to have a quick smoke, away from disapproving eyes.

…and the feeling wore off as quickly as it came.
On to Benin…
*cue soundtrack -kidjo’s wambolombo*
il s’appelle Josef, but he insisted on Joseph. Aside from the fact that he was ruder francophone than phony Anglophone… And I thought ‘if it helps you sleep at night, and doesn’t change the price of beans… Joseph it is.

*Disclaimer*… I guess he checked in when I was going through the periodical i-need-a-change-moment.
So when he did the handshake and I thought to myself ‘what rough hands you have’ (literally *rasp rasp*… then he began talking, and hurling his ‘intellect’ out there, and bragging about what books he has read… and what you should read, then moves on to Plato, rubbishes Microsoft, and bellows Mackintosh praises, and annoys/irritates the hell out of not-so-sober me… I did the thing, you know, exited!

To cut a long story short… hooked up severally after that (have a thing for guys with bad attitudes- I know *eye roll*!), almost did the dirty deed(details are hazy) then I said something wrong and then… seriously, don’t ask!!!

Going down to Jinja with ol’ friend and Nigerian boy… that should be an interesting one- He is so authentic, it’s like having your own live Nollywood movie- and you are a lead!

On second thoughts… I hereby declare the year of the West African ended.