While window shopping at this interior decor place – I saw a matt finished wall tile I’d really liked, I wondered if it was sold in a larger size:
“Is it available in 24″ × 24″ size ?”
(24 inches by 24 inches – Which is equally 2 feet by 2 feet size).
The swift response I got was:
‘It is 60 mm by 60 mm’
I schooled him . . . Or so, I thought:
“I use inches and feet for measurement where I come from. The last time I dealt in ‘cm’ or ‘mm’ was way back in primary school”
Unyielding and looking lost, he objected to my lecture:
‘No tiler understands measurements in inches or feet, sir . . .’
‘Mo de gbenu mi sowun’
(And I kept my mouth shut)
Talk about him putting the cart before the horse – I thought the popular mantra was that the customer is always right ?
As for me, since primary school which was way back over four decades, I have gone on to understand measurements not just in inches and feet, but even in meters.
This one is most certainly unyeilding and inflexible – a ’tiler’ obviously set in his own damn ways, not ready to change.
Or maybe I am the one that needs to change ?
Lololololololololololol !
*
‘The measure of intelligence is the ability to change.’
– Albert Einstein.
If you’re not changing, you’re not growing. If you’re not growing, you’re not being intelligent. Humans thrive in change and expansion – yet there can be so many internal or external blocks to change.
Finally bringing us to the rhetorical question – which is more important, the chicken or the egg ?
After ruminating for months about starting a new personal ‘keep-fit’ regime, I eventually started a long distance walk routine.
It’d been ages that I unceremoniously stopped my cycling and swimming schedules, the covid-19 pandemic plus lockdown, a factor also.
Getting back became a real issue, with the club where I swim slamming shut its doors to outsiders like me and cycling also out of the question with the terribly bad roads, coupled with the insecurity situation in the country.
So, I finally took the bull by the horn and started my neighbourhood road walk – and I must confess, it’s been such fun and a whole lot of drama as well.
Indeed a catalogue of events during every session since I started.
I still recall one rainy morning that I’d sluggishly gotten outta bed to face the day’s challenge – I was barely 2 kilometres aways from home when an on-coming vehicle, driven by a woman drove at a break neck speed and splashed a pond of water on my entire body.
She never even waited as passers-by screamed at the sight of the dastardly act – to think I was walking facing on-coming traffic, having learnt the consequence of walking against the flow of traffic since my early secondary school days, when I got a hard damming kick in my butt.
A kick bad and strong enough to send me diving forward and hitting the ground, face down and real hard.
A conductor or whomever, hanging on the door of a ‘molue’ had violently kicked me while I walked home after school that noon, having spent my transport allowance. Lol !
I got up, all dirty and in serious pains and bruises allover my body – so, ever since that unfortunate event, I walk facing and not backing traffic.
I recall running into one of the security guys close to my hood who usually while I drove by in my car would extend his courtesies, the shock however, this time around was his walking past me even as I threw the first greeting at him – he barely acknowledged it, further confirming my stance that most of the security guys at the gate only seemingly know you cos of your car and not your physical self.
Another experience of mine confirmed this when as I strutted along the road and saw ‘Mama’ that works at Abe Igi – even while smiling and greeting ‘Mama’ so very warmly, she still couldn’t relate with this ‘strange’ fellow extending such greeting to her – some guy in his sports shorts and earpieces plugged to his head. I laughed to myself all the way . Chuckles !
As I was going on another morning, out of nowhere came this deranged guy as I made to cross the road; dirty, scruffy and looking menacing – in a rough, also commanding tone, he made a demand of me:
‘E wa fuun mi lowo . . . ‘
(Come and gimmie money)
He probably had meant to scare me but as he could see I ignored his treat, he silently walked away also.
“Who in his right mind would have expected anyone to carry along a wallet while doing a roadwalk ?”
Having covered a good distance, tiring out but equally hanging in there, I walked past this young woman with her two daughters, one on her back while the slightly older one walked alongside her – they had just left a side street woman frying ‘akara’ (bean-balls) and the older of the two girls had erroneously dropped a piece given her by the Mum to the ground.
I looked on, shocked to my already drenched and wet pants as their mother picked up the sand soaked bean-ball, blowing out the particles and using her hands to clean same, while handing it back to her girl – my gosh, that was most unhygienic.
Growing up, we were taught not to pick anything meant for the mouth once it’d touched the ground. So much have indeed, changed between my generation and the upcoming one . Wow !
Anyway, I continued my strides, determined to cover a good distance when I noticed a figure far ahead of me, a great shape for a young lady, in sporty dark pants and majestically strolling far up – the shape well protruded and infact urging and encouraging me to walk faster and catch up.
Personally, I don’t look the other way for such inviting challenge – I put in more energy into my strides, keeping my paces up as the music blasted on from my phone, hooked to my head through the earpieces.
This surely, was fun as I did so, relishing the fact I was doing so not to shed weigh but to stay fit.
I met other interesting things and people along the way as I trudged on; husbands and wives, fathers and children, one particular young lady, walking her two cute dogs, a group of friends and even a few of my neighbours too – Dr. Dre taking his wife’s vehicle to the car wash.
On a couple of occasions, running into a number of people twice, having circled their route in good time.
The horrible drivers on our roads also comes to mind – one delivery vehicle driver, ‘reversing’ about 200 meters on the expressway just to connect to the service lane – I’d stopped him when he reconnected, shocked that even a policeman was in front with him as I revealed to them that their dangerous action had been recorded by a ‘camera’ at the junction they were now approaching. He was barely gone when I looked back and saw, yet another vehicle, this time an suv doing exactly the same thingy – before I got off the expressway, a policeman also rode his bike against traffic behind me towards wherever he was headed.
Having walked about 50 minutes, I was almost catching up with the lady in the sporty dark pants with a sleeveless gray top when her entire figure became much more glaring, the curves in an almost excessive proportion – the backside, an enormous and indeed massive sight to behold. A booty of magnificent proportion.
What the Yorubas would so gladly describe in many glorious ways as:
‘Idi araba, idi mangoro, idi iroko, idi aabajo, etc’
She surely was blessed – talk about the beautifully moulded curves.
As I continued my unrestrained gaze and glimpses at the voluminous package ahead without her knowledge, I thought to myself:
“How could God have blessed only one person with all these ?”
(Oluwa ku ise iyanu)
Lololololololololololol !
@ O’Shine Original . . .
*
‘Women with big butts have a lower risk of heart attack, stroke, diabetes’ – Study
Sometime back, precisely during the covid-19 lockdown, I took the rare decision to for starters, totally eliminate my alcohol intake – in the first instance, it’s not as if I’m that much of a regular or traditional drinker.
I do so only and majorly at social functions and occasions that warrants it – indeed, a rather rare occurrence too.
Going that route, anyway wasn’t expected to be smooth sailing and all that easy too – however, for a start, my focus was to do the lowest possible limit by drastically reducing my intake.
The battle, nonetheless was fierce, with many associates and friends objecting, most times fiercely rejecting my decision while attending their social functions or on a visit to their spaces.
‘We have ‘Orijin’ . . . I bought it just for you, knowing it’s your favourite . . . ‘
That’s a product I’d over a period of time fallen flatly in love with and most close pals knew I couldn’t resist the urge to down a can or bottle, at the very least.
I could do with some red wine or a glass or two of Irish Cream / Amarula as well.
The good thingy, funnily is that once my mind is made up – there’s usually no going back. Hardly do I get influenced to reverse a decision thouroughly thought out and taken by me.
Then I started meeting brickwalls and oppositions:
‘I bought your favorite drinks . . . ‘
My response thereon . . . “A bottle of water is ok” – a shock too, to most people’s system.
‘As in, you definitely aren’t serious, right . How do you mean – how can ?’
Lololololololololololol . . .
My Church Society meetings, which hold at the last Sunday of every month taking the most bash. Members rotate these meetings between themselves, the only exception being a month in the whole calendar year at the Church premises.
I recall even declining to have anything besides water at my big brother’s, one of our longest serving members way back in March despite his agitations and encouragement that he had my choice available.
Same followed when another member hosted us at his place around Ogun State in April, he had ‘Orijin’ too but I declined, with him similarly trying to placate me with Amarula, which was also turned down by me – I took just water all through.
My attitude to alcohol was the same at other meetings still, till we decided to surprise our oldest member – a 98 years old on his birthday. We all turned up unexpectedly at his place, our light refreshments brought along so we wouldn’t embarrass his family.
To think the old man, was actually well prepared for all eventualities despite not having a party. He indeed surprised us all; food and drinks in abundance, including my ‘Orijin’.
He asked his son to bring out a large bottle for me and I shocked everyone in attendance by accepting, afterall this was a 98 year old’s party – as I opened and started to gulp down the second bottle that evening. Our April host, with such angst and disappointment, cried out:
‘Are you not the same person who refused the ‘Orijin’ I bought for and offered to you the last time at my place ?’
“Baba ti binu niyen ke . . .”
(The man was obviously angry with me)
I made him realise that I didn’t want it back then cannot stop me from having it now . . . Lol.
Shocking him even further when at the August meeting, our host who was also celebrating his 85th birthday with a son based in South Africa also in attendance, offered my table a well chilled bottle of Amarula and I filled up my glass – our April host, wide eyed watched me with such disdain from his table a few blocks away, looking really slighted.
I could tell from his body language too, that he most probably thought I disapproved of him was why I declined his offers.
The truth of the whole matter is that, I simply had a change of mind on those two occasions.
My mood . . . swinging from irritable, to sullen and / or a most excited state of mind.
In the final analysis, a man’s gotta do, what a man’s gotta do – Lololololololololololol !
“Barman, serve everyone a drink of their choice and bring me a bottle of Orijin”
000,000,000'Shine 