****THE TORTOISE HURRIES HOME*****
My name is Froofasi, don't ask where I am from. I am a city
hustler, forget about what I do. I am standing with a huge crowd at the bus
stop awaiting the next bus. The sun is frying my head and hunger is dancing
shoki in my stomach.
The bus appears from a distance and we all sprint toward it.
Surprisingly a woman straddling a toddler to her back
outruns all of us in Okagbare stylee and is seated in the front row behind the
driver before I find a space beside her.
The unexpected race increases the hungry dance steps in my
belly.
The bus moves and another problem begins. The little boy
straddled to Okagbare's back starts to cry aloud. Some of the dancers in my
stomach move to my head and they start a march parade.
Everybody in the bus kept throwing pieces of advice at the
mother of the child.
"Give am breast nah", said an old woman from the
back seat.
"Abi na heat dey worry am?", a bushy mouthed man
added.
I looked angrily at the weeping and wailing child, wishing
he was an adult so that I could teach him a lesson or two on being a public
nuisance.
I quickly plugged my ears with my head phones and set
Dorobucci by Don Jazzy and his noisy family on repeat play.
A few minutes later, i noticed almost everyone in the bus
were dozing while sweating in the standstill traffic. I then cast a look at the
tiny terrorist and he was busy nibbling at edges of a GALA sausage roll. My
mouth watered as the little rascal eyed me pitifully as if he knew I didn't
have a dime on me asides my t-fare . His mum was fast asleep and she also held
an unopened GALA sausage roll in her hand, the neat packaging causing more
trouble to my life..
"Chai! Man no fit thief", I thought to myself. I
quickly reached a decision that no matter when this tortoise of a traffic gets
me home, I must knock at, beg or even break down Ali's kiosk. The dancers in my
stomach have doubled and na GALA na im fit do am.
Written by:
KUNLE OMOPE
No comments:
Post a Comment