13

I Know I Bashed Your Car, But Have You Eaten?

The question has logical origins, I suppose. We Nigerians have always had near-maniacal levels of hospitality etched in our culture. I mean, you have a guest coming from far away, guest gets to the house by say, 2am. The first thing you ask is, “Have you eaten?” then proceed to offer him a wide array of “light” food to “manage” with. Like pounded yam and afang soup, correct jollof with heavily peppered snail, or the complete package; fried rice, chicken and salad.
You know, stuff one can “manage” by 2am, for quick digestion.
At some point, the hospitality got a bit weird though. Now it’s used in all kinds of ways :s
You get a call, goes something like this;
“Hello? How you dey? Enh? You had an accident?!! You’ve been in the hospital since yesterday? Oh my God. But have you eaten?”
Because food cures everything. Jilted at the altar by your lover of seven years? Tragic story, but have you eaten? Make sure you eat, you’ll feel better. Should we get you pap and akara?
And of course, you know I have to go there, this random post wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t… Nigerian men cannot apologise. Even when they’re obviously wrong, and have had an argument with you spanning three days. When it becomes glaringly clear that he was at fault the whole time, your average Nigerian man will clear his throat, pause awkwardly for a few seconds, then grudgingly ask, “Enh, have you eaten?”
Ladies, sorry to break it to you, but that was your apology. Yeah. Right there. Just take it, and keep praying for patience, not strength. Because if you had strength, you’d have strangled the guy by now.
Same thing with Nigerian parents. You know how you watch Hollywood flicks and you have touching scenes where the parents admit their fault and say sorry to their kids?
Pah!
It is easier for our friend the camel to pass through the eye of a needle, brethren. You can have a quarrel of epic proportions with your parents. Such a huge fight that you are not on speaking terms with them for weeks, and even your siblings pick sides and only talk to you when Mom and Dad aren’t home. Only for your mom to walk into your room one fine afternoon, pretend to read the blurb of the novel on your table, do the awkward cough, then ask “Have you eaten? There is rice in the kitchen.”
This means that all is well again, and she and her spouse have seen fit to leave your name in the will after all. That thing she said is actually equivalent to the turn up arranged for the prodigal son in ancient times.
And of course, the most annoying one. When a guy is struggling to claw his way out of the friend zone, this is all he will ask you. Breakfast time, lunchtime, dinnertime.
Have you eaten?
Have you eaten?
HAVE YOU EATEN??!!
Until a girl gets irritated and insults the guy and he’s all, “But I was only trying to be caring…”
*EYE ROLL*
I liked when it was used to shut down voltrons arguing passionately about something that didn’t concern them in the least on Twitter. After their endless numbered tweets, one calm soul would retweet with, “Yes, but have you eaten?” Meaning; please go quietly away and do things of direct benefit to your existence.
Of course, the “Have you eaten?” question is closely followed by “When will you marry?”
But that’s a post for another day.
In the meantime, it’s already afternoon, and

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Yours,
@MsMeddle

2

Zero Plus Zero Equals Blog Post

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So I’m sat at the old plantation (aka office) today, when I hear my phone ring. I peep the caller ID without breaking eye contact with the old man before me, because old people are all sorts of annoying when they feel in the least bit abandoned. It is a strange number, one of those that makes you wonder if there’s a new network in town you have not heard of. I don’t know what makes me pick up the call, but I do.
Me: Hello?
He: Hello… Joy? How are you? 
Me: I’m fine…?
He: Why did you just push me aside, ehn? In fact, I’m so angry with you. 
Me: *scanning the mental voice recognition database, finding no match* Err… Why, what did I ever do to you? 
He: Why would you just forget about me… Do you even know who’s on the line?
Me: No, I don’t. 
He: Can you imagine. It’s Great.  Continue reading

1

The Way You Chew

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Frank rushed into Ola Mummy canteen in Bodija,  hungry as an abandoned baby elephant, and made his order of two wraps of pounded yam, fish and ewedu. So hungry was he that it wasn’t until he’d swallowed the first wrap that his eyes came down, and he could once again see like normal humans do. It was at this point he decided to slow down so he wouldn’t choke. He took his first sip from the 75cl Eva table water bottle the waitress with the blue Staff 24 tshirt had placed before him, and looked around for the first time whilst tenderly unwrapping the second half of his meal.
That was when he saw her. Continue reading

3

Somebody’s Daddy

My eyes dimmed again. It was a generous, uncoordinated mix of hunger, fatigue, and the little subdued angers of the day.
Too bad I couldn’t lose my temper on the job, or just walk away from my desk whenever I needed a break. Looking up, I notice a customer I’ve never seen before. He is a Hausa older man, dressed quietly in a white baban riga. He comes up to me with a complaint and somehow, I make small talk. I am smiling when he leaves; he has asked for and gotten my number. For official purposes, you understand.
The next day there is more anger and stress throbbing just behind my eyes. A couple people have taken me for granted and I hate it.
I don’t even know why I turn my head to the left, but I do. He is sitting there, patiently waiting. He’s focused on the TV watching until the chair in front of my desk empties. I’m not sure why, but I suddenly feel a quickening of my pulse. I’m nervous… uncomfortable, almost. I greet him when he takes the chair and he is all smiles. My eyes widen because now there’s someone else in the second chair in front of my desk. He has made no move, but I’m sure he’s about to say… something.
I don’t like queues.
He says it whilst holding my gaze steadily, confident smile lighting up his face.
I… I’m sorry?
I blink rapidly as I ask this. I’m not sure, what queue?
I hope the queue isn’t long, I don’t like queues.
I know now that he means the number of men… other men vying for my attention. Because he’s officially in the running now.
This time I’m struck dumb. Once again I’m grateful for melanin. If I didn’t have any, I’d be red right now, from the neck to the very edge of my receding hairline.
To dispel my doubts (I have none) he adds, when are we meeting later?
I laugh, because it is a cocky question and I don’t want to get into the what-makes-you-so-sure-there-will-be-a-meeting of it all. Too many times, I’ve had that argument. But they never listen, men.

He says he will call me around five, when I must be done from work. I say OK and watch him leave, with a flourish of his white agbada, the cadence of his voice laden with international exposure still ringing in my ears.
He’s a lovely man, confident in his level of life experience. He has a great smile, a hint of a great sense of humour, and strikes me as one of those people who is rich in a casual way.
But he is somebody’s daddy.
Later that evening, I watch as my phone rings twice. I do not pick up.

Yours,
@MsMeddle

P.S.
Have a wonderful 2016. Pray fervently, love passionately, pretend that hurt is a thing of fiction, do not give anger a chance, and above all, overcome fear.
Mwah! :*

5

My Aké 2015 Review

I realise this is coming years after the actual festival, but: I lost the initial review due to “technical hitches” so you must take this remake in good faith.
So, this year’s Aké Arts and Book Festival took place at the June 12th Cultural Centre in Abeokuta, Ogun State from 17 -21st November. It was attended by art lovers, writers, (published and blogging), and what I’ll call bold youth courageous enough to question the mundanity of things. It was a forum for discussion of literary, political, educational and somewhat taboo topics affecting the global community. It garnered a lot of support and attendance from across several continents, and was the perfect place to be geeky in a completely comfortable way. If you want to know more about Aké Festival, please go here http://www.akefestival.org or https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=JJlVzqX-ju0

Continue reading

6

Birthday

laveudafrica.com

laveudafrica.com

It was her birthday, but she wasn’t excited about it.
Somehow, this neighbour of hers with whom she’d only recently begun talking had convinced her to go hang out with him. She guessed it was ok, he seemed funny and he’d definitely drop her off home since he lived a few houses down from her. She smiled sweetly as he pushed his head against hers for another selfie. They were currently in a club, after downing a few bottles each at a popular joint in the heart of town. He pulled her up when his song began to play, and she had to admit, his enthusiasm was infectious. They danced and sweated and drank and laughed until everything became a blur.


They left the club around 3.30am and drove back to the neighbourhood in relaxed, companionable silence. He stopped at his house and offered her some more beers from his personal warehouse. She went in with him. They sat on the couch drinking super-chilled bottles of Snapp, and making fun of the actors in the Nollywood flick on tv.
So where’s your wife sef, in all this, she asked finally. She’d scanned the walls and there was no sign of wedding photos or a wife anywhere.
Hmm, he said, taking a swig from his bottle. She could tell he was stalling, trying to decide whether or not to tell her the truth.
I have a girlfriend, but she’s not here… actually, our parents are hell-bent on marrying us off. There’ll be a family introduction soon.
Ah, that’s nice. She wasn’t surprised, everyone carried more baggage than the cargo hold of a commercial airplane these days.
They continued talking, the gist flowing easily between them. She looked towards him to catch what he’d just said, and suddenly his face was right there. They kissed and it was the most natural thing to have happened. She turned back to the TV, and it was a few minutes before they faced each other again and really kissed. A deep reconnoitre of a kiss that told her; he was a bad boy. He was a very experienced bad boy who had no shame and no regrets. He dragged the breath from her throat and busied his hands with her breasts. He guided her hand to his crotch and her eyes flicked open, a moan of appreciation escaping jaggedly from between her lips, losing itself inside his mouth. He stopped suddenly, laughed and sheepishly said, gosh I have to go pee.
The minute he got up, she drained her bottle, shook her head roughly and grabbed her keys from his centre table. She crept to his front door and let herself out, then set off at a fast trot to her flat.
She was trying to find the key for her screen door when she thought she heard someone coming. Shit! She hastened her search, fit the key in the lock and let herself in. She slammed and locked the door in the nick of time like the classic inappropriately dressed blonde in every horror movie ever.
She heard him walking around the side of the house.
Hey, what’s wrong, I went into the bathroom and you ran away?! What’s going on. His voice was soft and low, to avoid attracting attention from the neighbours.
Why did you leave?
The moonlight and security light from a neighbouring flat allowed her see him frowning at her in concern.
Because… she shrugged limply.
Ok, open the door.
No, I’m not opening this door!
Why!
Because if I do, we’re going to fuck.
She could see his breath catch in his throat, watched him swallow and scratch his head.
Well… so let’s fuck, then!
But you’re committed to someone. I can’t deal with all that.
She didn’t know if it was all that beer finally kicking in, or the effects of the full moon but she felt a familiar mood descend on her and she smiled, wickedly.
She stood directly in front of him, only the sturdy mosquito netting between them. Slowly, she pulled her dress off over her head, and flung it away.
Fuck! He was prowling around outside now, like a dog inches away from his lunch.
Come closer, he rasped, coming to a stop in front of her.
She unclasped her bra and dropped it on the floor, pushing her swollen breasts against the net. He stuck out his tongue and flicked it against her nipples. She pushed her head back and laughed at his very evident frustration. Are you still wearing your panties? He asked.
In answer, she stepped out of her panties, held them up for him to see, then let them drop to the floor. She stepped into a slice of moonlight so that he could see her naked.
Good night, she said, unlocking her front door.
Come back, he hissed. He wanted to yell but couldn’t, because it was late and he didn’t want to be mistaken for a thief or something.
So he stood there paralysed as she went into her house and locked the door behind her. He stood there a while, hoping she’d reappear and yell, sike!
No such luck.
He walked back to his house, glad there was ice in his fridge. He’d need an extra cold shower to survive till morning.

Yours,
@MsMeddle

3

Fat Girl’s Guide

20-12-2014

The logical thing any (skinny) person will say is, if you’re unhappy with your weight then do something about it. Then the slow motion montage will begin to play with inspirational, heroic music going on in the background. You will see it like it always happens in the movies; young, fat, usually painfully plain girl with no visible skills or talent, suddenly fed up with being the butt (harhar) of mean jokes, takes a stand and decides to change, jogs up and down wearing different coloured t-shirts until she’s suddenly this curvy, lanky, sexy and talented thing. Continue reading