Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Since we are on strike, I decided to get a job. My father was livid when he came home one afternoon and no one opened the door for him to get in. I was sleeping the day away and Tawa had gone to the market on errands. Mum was out: socialising and my siblings are back in boarding school. After dad had roasted in the hot sun for an hour, the security guard gbeborun remembered that he had not seen me leave the house at all: hence, i had to be in. Dad called all the phones in the house including mine and I did not answer. the useless thing was dead and I was wolfing down a large bowl of left over jollof rice from the party my mum dragged us to over the weekend.
I do not know what made me look up but whatever it is, I thank and worship you because if I hadn't, the effect of the slap that had been swung my way by my irate father would certainly have shattered my skull and rendered me headless. Apparently, my father had called my mother and ordered her home. She arrived just as Tawa was alighting from thetaxi she took from the market and the two of them must have been a sight to see, falling over each other to open the door for the bellowing olori ile/baale ile. My dad swept past them, followed the sound of Tuface Idibia playing on the television into the upstairs sitting room and propelled his left hand forward to rearrange my face. God, my ancestors and whatever juju my mother is practicing under-g saved me from requiring a facial lift cos i saw a sudden movement and moved to get a clearer view. Who knew that that would save my life.
i jumped up and watched with a mixture of alarm and amusement as my mother threw herself before my father to prevent him from harming HIMSELF. HIMSELF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!??????????????????
I was the one about to suffer the effects of his beating. African women and their husbands.
Anyways, in the evening, i was summoned into the study where I was unceremoniously told that, I needed to find a job and that he was going to call his admin manager and see where I could be placed within his company. I was going to work for him...for free. Then, he was calm. Mummy had prepared pounded yam and he had washed the heavy meal down with chilled palm wine. Instead of the old man to confess that he was hungry when he stormed inside shouting at me about me wasting his money and time and filling my head with the music of college dropouts. I am quite sure Tuface graduated from university.
Anyways, I was excused and I ran to my mother and railed and railed and told her that it was over my dead body that I was going to work in the same office as dad. My mum heard the dead body part and a couple phone calls, I am now seated in the offices of the owner of Kash Ventures, a proud anad paid employee of three days.
Everyone here is crazy.
I've got to go.
My lunce break is over.