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| Food vendor in Lagos: No Longer the Same |
I was at a restaurant around 11 pm. It was odd, bitterly
cold and there was nothing I could do about it. I was desperate to see Dorcas,
the food vendor. She's a great cook. So I was ready to wait forever in order to
eat some tasty noodles.
No time was too late to attend to the call and keep the
stomach and mind in check. I will be at a disadvantage if I go into the night
shift without food in my stomach. It was surely going to be a long night. I had
to eat in order to be in the right frame of mind. One easy way to be distracted
is to be hungry and watch the time slowly ticks away. The feeling can be frustrating.
I was not alone. Next to me was a fellow in his thirties. He
was pale and drawn. Dark and slim. If he was placed on a scale, he would weigh
slightly more than a feather. I don’t know why he wore a long face. But if I am
to judge by the prevailing circumstance, I would say the harsh economic climate
in Nigeria had directly impacted his life. High cost of living have swept the
poor off their feet. Those who could not stand the heat, have been dragged into
oblivion. Now, it is a crime not to be poor.
At intervals, the creature would glance at his faded gold wristwatch
that was old and begging for replacement. Perhaps, it was an indication that
the young man was tired of waiting for Dorcas but was only kept on the seat by
some powerful spell. The magical character that pinned him to the seat was
arguably bigger than the pair of legs that carried the man. It was his cross to
bear. His bone to chew. If waiting was killing him, he should do the needful
and leave. It’s written in the Bible that man cannot live by bread alone. It
could be hard but there are chances that he could survive the night on empty
stomach.
My case was different. I know why I was there. If Dorcas
cast a spell on me, it will likely linger because I wanted to be wild and free.
Eat whenever I wanted to. Embrace the freedom that comes from living in a world
that is secure. That freedom improves economic activities is no news.
No doubt, the young man needs to get out of the restaurant
as quickly as possible. Not just him. We all need to leave as soon as we can. It
was late. Were it not for the street lights, it would have been pitch darkness.
Something we all dread. In this part of the world, darkness is synonymous to
evil. Staying too long under the suiting weight of her cover would mean bad
omen. It is imperative to stay from evil. His willingness to stay for this long
only mean one thing. He was also under her spell and Dorcas had us where she
wanted.
Dorcas is a woman with extreme qualities that drives unimaginable
traffic to her side. Her straight legs, good height and round ass filled the
room. It was only a matter of time before I crumbled under her feet. At intervals,
the large innocent balls that sat on the sockets of my skull would look in her
direction. I was trying to process the figure and properly evaluate the time it
took her maker to knock her into shape. Considering her beauty, a lot went into
the making of the woman. And she’s worth every attention that she is getting.
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| Beautiful African woman: No Longer the Same |
A lot of things were happening in my mind. I was going
astray. I could see myself falling all over the place to get her in my arms. It was hard to look at Dorcas and not be lascivious.
She was an embodiment of beauty. The total package and well-developed black
woman that every decent man would love to have. She was a meal with the right
condiment. Her skin glowed under the nicely fitted dress. Feasting on such meal
could only mean I have tasted the best apple in the neighborhood and there is
nothing anybody can do about it.
Because life is tough, it’s proper to think and be at peace.
But of what use is it when you know your thoughts can never be good enough to
win a beautiful woman like Dorcas? Thoughts without action is only fantasies.
In judgment, they account for so little.
It was late and there was no need to allow my mind stray too
far away from what had brought me here. I was hungry. I need to stick to the
plan and get my stomach filled. I shouldn’t be carried away by mere mortal. She
could be a poisoned chalice.
It was important to note that she was something remarkable. In
such an unholy hour, things could spiral out of control to the benefit of
miscreants or anyone that holds the key to her heart. It is a double edged
sword. Her situation is like biscuit that one does not know where it will
crack. Making the wrong move could be fatal. Her world could crumble before her
very eyes, business ruined and innocent admirers like me will suffer the loss
of not seeing her again. On the other hand, she could enjoy the pleasure that
comes with spreading the legs for an entity to insert his body. Once the petal
is bruised, the wound could heal but the scar will never disappear,
Sometimes, joints and street corners are places to be when
you are horny. You will be filled if you know your way. The street is a
blessing and can also be a curse. To get into the temple, you only have to pull
a few strings. The guitar is held firmly when the orchestra is playing. Quickly,
the result appears, but soon it is swallowed up. Once wrapped in the warm hands
of darkness, it is sucked in and forever gone. Never to return. If it doesn’t
go according to plan, your hands are burnt and cracks will appear on the wall. The
street have destroyed many lives. With fury, the street washes down their corpse
into abyss.
Dorcas is in a class of her own. Such a woman cannot wander
on the face of the earth for long before she would be taken. She will surely
have a place to lay her head. A place to call home. A place where her petals
will be repeatedly bruised and body massaged into the night. I wish I could
have her and render the service and be praised up to the high heavens. I will
occupy the south and fill my bucket with laughter. A man is to serve humanity. Forbidden
fruits are sometimes the sweetest.
Dorcas, a typical Ibadan woman raised in one of the cities
in the heart of Africa. She flaunts her assets at the slightest opportunity and
I believe some of the faces around mainly visit the restaurant to catch a glimpse
of her back side and the huge tits on her chest. They are fruits, ripe oranges,
not deflated. They looked like bodies that have not been touched and brought to
their knees. The precious stones are in their proper place under her braless
shirt causing distraction as she moves from one end to another. It is no news
that Dorcas is provocative. It is your business if you decide to burn. As a
real man, it is expected that rage or madness should be subdued by
self-control. Any man who does not tread this safe old path, will burn in hell.
Suddenly, two teenagers walked in. They carried themselves
to the creature that sat beside me. One of them bent his body over and
whispered to the lad. After he had sounded the information, he rose to vertical.
The teenager patted the creature on the back. He quietly walked to his cohort
who was standing some meters away from us and they disappeared into the night
the same way that they had come.
I barely raised my head and glanced at their direction. They
were not persons of interest and I did not spare them any further glance.
As soon as the wind blew them away, the lad turned to me and
said, "Oga, those guys came to our hotel with sacks full of money. Dem don
hammer! Each of them get 850k for their hotel room now, now!"
I swallowed hard and asked, "What do they do for a
living?"
"Na runs! Na yahoo boys’ dem be. Na dem I come buy
noodles for!"
“How do you know they carried large sums of money into the
hotel? Are you one of them?”
“I dey work for the hotel. I enter their room. I see
everything. Money full everywhere!”
"Interesting," I sounded and smiled faintly.
"It is late. Where are they going?"
"Dem wan go bring women wey dem go fuck this
night."
“Prostitute?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he cocked his head.
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| Yahoo Boys: No Longer the Same |
I slowly turned away from him and faced Dorcas who was at
the other side. I paused for a while and tried to ponder about what the
creature beside me whom I guess was under the influence of liquor had said. Why
is he telling me all these? Does he think I will be happy to hear that
teenagers who should be at home or in school are out on the street destroying
themselves? How can people celebrate criminals to the point that they no longer
feel ashamed to say they defrauded people? I don’t get his drift.
The young man is morally bankrupt. It was senseless to reveal
such thing in the public. In my opinion, the hotel does not deserve to be in
business for employing such a person. He was crude and foolish.
I was a total stranger. I don’t know him and we have never
met. I could be an undercover cop sent to monitor the activities of fraudster
in that neighborhood. He foolishly exposed the lads. What the young man told me
is enough to put the boys and himself in trouble.
What sort of hotel employ such a daft in this age and time
beats my imagination.
I looked at him one last time. "Why waste 850k tonight
when they can sit at home and plan," I told the guy.
He smiled and noted, "Dem go continue work this night.
All of them go knack phone till daybreak.”
It was too late for me to tell the poor creature my mind
because my noodles were ready. She packed it and handed it over to me.
I took my meal from Dorcas, made payments and left the scene
quietly.
As I walked to the office, I wondered what type of
generation is this.
They are doomed if nothing is done to stop these children
from covetousness. The desperation to get rich quickly is evil enough. There is
no future for people who want to be rich without following the due process.
About the Author
Omoruyi
Uwuigiaren is a former cartoonist turned writer. When he was a kid, he loved
music and composed songs for his high school band. After school, he wanted to
pursue a career in music. Instead he embraced writing and studied Mass
Communications. His literary works and books have appeared in Moronic Ox
Literary and Cultural Journal, Open Books, Urban News Express Online and many
more. He’s the owner of Ruyi’s World of
Books and Stories.
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