* SPARE A MINUTE, READ THIS SMALL NONSENSE YANS **
The electoral tension has taken a break. The fever has
subsided..... to emerge later in the evening of March.
....And so my muse is creeping on me from behind, kissing
the nape of my neck with moist inspiration.....and here cums a lil
wordsturbation on the screen before your eyes...
I often watch with unhidden dismay, my young nephews and
nieces sitting cross-legged, making calls on mobile phones, while popping chin
chin and I can't help but wonder how much the world has changed. Now, if your
mind just called me old school, tell your mind I said, gerrrrrrout!
I remember my first phone call. I was about 7yrs old and was
more curious than Adam on the day he was created.
And so, I had spied and copied a phone number from a Union
Bank calendar in our parlour (it wasn't called "living room" in those
days). With a pocket full of 10kobo coins in my corduroy kampala shorts and my
face glistening from an overdose smearing of STELLA pomade (remember the yellow
petroleum jelly with the fruity smell?) which my dear mama polished me with an
excess of, I headed for a phone booth (yes we once had that in Naija) at the
General Hospital gate at Ikeja.
A man was in the booth and he casted a condescending eye at
me like "what the eff are you looking for here?". But yours truly was
a barrack pikin who could not be intimidated by Lucifer himself(my papa na
policeman and Devil no get gun). So I returned the stare and my mind screamed
at him "park well abeg"
After he did his thing while I watched his every finger move
'Jamesbondly', he walked away, hissing aloud and shaking his mighty head that
reminded me of Papa Ekene, the palm wine seller's bicycle seat.
My turn came, and I sauntered in majestically. Stretching on
tip toe, I gently unseated the receiver, from its rest and held it to my ear.
The tone made heart palpitate slightly. I psyched myself "fear fall down
and die" I repeated in my thoughts, my virgin ear's hymen must be ripped
apart today!
I rummaged through my pocket and retrieved the piece of
paper where I had scribbled the Union Bank numbers on.
With a generous slush from my tongue, I baptised the back of
the of the paper with enough saliva to trap a horse, and stuck it on the
insides of the glass booth opposite my big scrutinising eyes. The paper tried
to struggle free, but it was no match for my okro soup mixed spittle, hence it
was held tightly against the glass.
Next, I slid a coin into the slot...and then two coins to be
doubly sure. I punched in the bank numbers like a pro ( e good to dey watch
film o. God bless LWT).
A Voice, feminine and pleasant, answered with a well
practised customer service prompt, and all hell broke loose....I sweated and
stammered and stuttered and sweated.
I can't remember the details of our conversation...something
about how much it costs to open a bank account. I guess she figured I was just
a curious, adventurous kid and talked to me nicely ( God bless her wherever she
is)
Experiment accomplished, I ran excitedly back home to tell
my story to my friends....with enough exaggerations and embellishments.
As I flew through the air in my corduroy kampala shorts, I
felt like Superman...the flying man with the billowing cape, whose image was
artfully crested on the crotch of the orange coloured pant under my shorts.
Enjoy your day friends.
KUNLE OMOPE
Photo from boothveneerspic.blogspot.com
