My cooking gas finished yesterday evening so I went to bed with a very heavy heart. There’s a tightening around my chest each time I have to fill gas. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because it always happen unexpectedly.
So I called gas man this morning. One of the things I did after moving was to scout for another gas man around this area. I found one, got his number.
He said he was still at home but that he’d come. He called around mid afternoon that he was on his way. I tried to describe. He missed the way, took a wrong turn. I tried to describe again and this time, I went to wait in front of my gate.
Only to see a Jeep afar off, parked close to chief’s house. Chief is the Igbo man I wrote about earlier who called me a child. He is the chairman of landlords.
I dialed the number again and to my horror, the hulk hogan stepping out of the Jeep picked his phone as I watched in bewilderment. I started walking backwards, trying to dodge so that I could enter my gate and run.
But he had seen me and was walking towards me. I was confused. Gas man…Highlander jeep. The gas is just 3800 egbami ke. Wait, did this man just bring a Jeep to pick my 12.5kg cylinder that cost only 3800 to fill? Ayemitemibami.
I didn’t wait for him to reach me. I carried the cylinder with all my strength and met him quarter of the way. He smiled. I wasn’t smiling. “Bros, no dey play with me like this again abeg. Next time, carry bike or use leg, mbok”.
I hope you know that I only said that in my head sha. I forced a smile, nodded and asked “I hope you don’t mind a transfer. I don’t have cash at home”.
He took it and left.
You shouldn’t blame me. All the gas men in my former area used to come with bikes(ero alupupu). Those type of bike that you’d kick continuously before it roar to life angrily, emitting dangerous black smoke from diesel(or maybe it’s kerosene mixed with petrol they pour inside it) making embarrassing, idiotic noises that’d attract passersby.
My former gas man used to enter my kitchen to fix it after filling, but when my Jeep gas man came, I humbly collected it at the living room, made his transfer and thanked him. His jeep did all the magic. It didn’t matter that I’ve never fixed it myself. I was going to figure it out. So I used all my muscle, flipped it off the ground and fixed it all by myself. I just added another feather to this premium baby girl life.
That jeep gas man legit scared me. It’s just like using a Toyota Corolla to sell akara Ogbomoso or selling zobo or kunu aya in a rolls royce.
For the first time since this lockdown started, I’m tired. I’ve got no appetite again. I’ve cooked all sorts, so much that my mum would be proud.
She used to pity whoever I end up with😁. She used to ask God what she did to deserve a very lazy daughter like me😁😁😁. Yes, I am the laziest in the kitchen. I hate to cook. I hate to go to the market. It’s either I do one, I can’t combine both. She knows that if she sends me to the market, it’s not me that will cook the food. By the time I survive the trauma of visiting orita challenge to buy efo, iru, eja gbigbe and the likes, izz nor me that will cook. I will be too tired or complain of headache.
However, if I decide to cook, I do it like it’s actually my calling in life😁. These past days, I’ve cooked moin moin elewe consistently. I’m still going to cook it tomorrow. I bought leaves today. I made pounded yam in my former house. Not like I won a jackpot o. I just woke up one day and decided to pound yam. I ended up pounding yam almost every weekend. I bought yam today so if I find my appetite, I may pound this week.
I’ve learnt and made white soup and ogbono soup. I want to try ofe nsala. I started following friends to eat at iya kabba close to my former garki office and that was where they initiated me into eating white soup with pounded yam. I’ve gone with a barrister to eat it at food court close to my office too. I miss Port Harcourt crescent. I miss 24/7. 24/7 is where Jonathan Eze used to eat. If you ever see me walking anywhere around garki with a Mike Tyson type of man, who walks with a swagger, or around first bank, Ahmadu Bello Way, which is where Mama Cass is located, it’s J.E I’m walking with. He looks like a rich sugar daddy. Today, he told me he has moved to Maitama. How can you come from Lagos to Abuja to start living a baby boy life? The other day, he was supposed to come to my office and he said his driver was fixing his car. So, you have a driver now?
I had such great plans for 2020. I just got my admission letter for a postgraduate study in Public Administration in March before the world went on holiday. I was already looking towards lecture and exam. First semester exam was supposed to be in May.
My good friend, JJ all the way from Lagos had nominated me to attend an exclusive programme for distinguished women in career and business at Wuse Zone 7 on the 22nd March. I told her that I’m just a child, not a distinguished person kankan but she wouldn’t budge. She took my details and submitted it. I don’t know how I was selected to attend such a high profile meeting with the conveners coming in from London. I decided to attend because of the free lunch😁😁😁 and somehow because JJ believes I’ve distinguished myself in shouting ‘court’ for almost three years. Who am I to say no when JJ says I’m a big girl?😁😁
The court ladies and I were planning my birthday on the 24th. My Lord was going to sit in Yola and it was perfect. Someone had pledged to bring drinks, another person small chops. We were going to have fun….but covik..1-9 said no.
My cousin was supposed to come live with me. I got an IT placement for him in my office at the maintenance department. Dude was looking forward to it. I was imagining all the night crawling we’d do together including the suya and sharwarma nights. No more rushing to close from office. He can go ahead and cook before I arrive. I was going to travel more. I was looking forward to this premium life but covik said no. It’s not certain that dude would even come this year. He only did first semester registration before covik struck.
I was warming up for election too. I had plans of running for office in the judiciary. I was going to be Assistant General Secretary of the Judiciary Staff Union of Nigeria. We could have gone to Eagle square in May to oversee things. I was going to ride on the wings of Mr Banji’s popularity at the polls because the election would be across all the judicial divisions and registries in Nigeria. Covik spoilt that too.
I was supposed to write my promotion exam in March. Our names were pasted first week in March and I remember sourcing for past questions to read while waiting for date only for covik to strike.
I was not informed about 2020 honestly and I’m tired.
I was trying to collate the quarterly returns of three courts to submit to the National Judicial Council web page when covik stuck.
I miss Milord. W has been sitting with him to deliver judgements and ruling.
Okay, let.me end it here. It’s getting too long already. I’m sleeping in the living room these days. A wall gecko chased me from my bedroom three days ago. I may write about it, or not. Dinner is served here. Kunu Aya and egg roll. #okbye