I Smell Humor |ONGOING

TWO

Dera was metrosexual. He valued his physical appearance to an extent where I secretly wondered if he had been a born a woman in a previous life. Not that I was going to ask him any time soon, he'd blow his top that I even suggested that he could be a woman. Although he was the most vain male I knew ( hell,he gave the best fashion tips either ways), he was a male human nothing less. My best friend Chidera Ndukwe was what you'd call a 'pretty boy'.

Standing proud and tall with a swimmers build at 6ft-although the idiot couldn't swim to save his life, perpetually nicely carved afro -which he had refused to cut right after our graduation but carved regularly -I have never understood the concept of Nigerian boys refusing to cut their hair after high school. I mean wasn't it just easier to level it? Besides it wouldn't be hard to maintain then, right?- chocolate brown skin, and a face I consider unnaturally smooth like baby nyash for his seventeen years of age, he was good eye candy. He didn't possess the amount the amount of muscles he longed for, complaining that his lean muscles made him look like a broom stick, but he did acknowledge his handsomeness and as a result treasured his face. I could safely say he was addicted to beauty products.

That would explain why a day to the concert , we were together at a supermarket in the suburbs of Asokoro, scouring the shelves for a cream which he had read online could supposedly make the  pimples which had decided to make an appearance on his nose  'disappear' under twenty four hours.

To a stranger, we would appear as a teenage couple. A guy taking his girl shopping and helping her select what to buy but we were miles and miles away from that. I was talked into accompanying him.

"Dera... I'm tired. Can you take me back home?" I asked for the umpteenth time while trailing behind him with my hands on my waist as he picked up one product and another skimming through the packs. "We have searched more than half of the entire supermarket and you've still not found it. Abeg I don taya."

"Stop complaining biko. You don't know I'm doing you a favour. I got you out of the house to receive fresh air and exercise your lazy limbs."

Now he sounded just like my mother.

He turned to face me with his hands in the pocket of the sweatpants he was wearing."you can't stay cooped up indoors all week except Sundays. Even the Sundays ma sef if not for church you'd still be at home. Its not healthy."

I looked at him incredulously. What did he mean Sundays?! And since when did he acquire motherly traits?

"I go out on weekdays too. When I want to."

"Suuurree you do. Alone? Without the parents? Any form of company?"

"It's not that bad."

"Yes it is Ono! Which teenager goes out with their parents as much as you do?!" He said, sounding irritated

True talk

"You know, I don't always go with them. I do my own stuff and I'll soon start going out alone," I mumbled while glaring at him.

"Abegi just pause," He said turning into his sassy self, "you can't even take a stroll down your street alone. You have a long way to go. Ajebo pikin, fear fear.

Ajebo?! This guy was unbelievable. We both were definitely not what you'd call ajebo or ajepako either. We were some where in between. Besides if we were to look at lifestyles, he was the ajebo in this relationship. Abeg who was buying nearly all the beauty products with good online reviews? Wasn't he the one?

"Besides -" he continued , walking down the aisle of cosmetics "- what I'm looking for will benefit the both of us. Just look at the hideous amount of pimples on your face."

By 'hideous' he meant a family of pimples which had decided to hold a family get together on my forehead. He was right but I wasn't about to admit it before him.

"Even though I do have a coup -"

"Found it!" He said interrupting my statement. He picked up two cream tubes smiling to himself. "One for me, and one for you. Don't worry, I'm paying. Let's go."

Finally!

All I wanted to do was go home and watch TV in silence before my parents came back from work. My mum in particular. There was almost never a moment of serenity with her around.

She nagged at me a lot. I mean, she nagged like every mother would, obviously, but lately, It  became unbearable. She found fault in nearly everything I did even when I was just following her instructions. Whenever she says "Onome how many times have I..." That's it. She begins her sermon which almost always consisted of her favorite 'when i was your age' stories. More than half of said stories were not even authentic, but i couldn't say it out loud . I tune her out until she gestures for me to leave. It's worse when she nags about how I don't go anywhere and just sit at home all day long. She has no idea of my phobia and I wasn't about to inform her soon either. Now being the extremely wonderful person I am, I won't blame mumci. No, I blame this newly developed bad habit of hers to the crinkly witch called menopause. She's the one making mumci so cranky.

My dad, Oghenetega Cooker, was a public servant while my mum, Foluke Cooker, was a business woman. My parents weren't from the same tribe. Mumci was a yourba woman from the south western part of the country while dad was from the south-south. I don't even know how they met , I'll have to ask daddy one of these days. I had one junior sister, Oghenetejiri- Tej for short, who was in her second year of the senior class. I, on the other hand, had graduated from secondary school four months ago. And boy, was I happy to get out of that prison. Secondary school in Nigeria was on an entirely different scale. It was in a world of its own.

I did miss my friends occasionally, sure I could speak with them through the social media but it wasn't the same as seeing them and gisting physically. Visiting was an on and off option as I was too terrified to go anywhere alone. So unless I had company such as the idiot walking me home, it was a lost cause.

It's sad really... But after sixteen years of always going out with company, it was hard to adjust to being alone.
Yes, I had moments when I wanted to be alone but being on the streets alone was not counted as one.

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Biko- Please

Baby nyash- Baby butt

Abegi / Abeg- Please

Ajebo - A term used to describe a polished person

Ajepako- A term used to refer to someone who behaves in a unrefined manner

Pikin- Child