This story is actually not my business (it doesn’t have to be anyway), but it was written because I picked a few things from it. Have fun.
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On that really frigid saturday morning I was idling on my bed, wrapped in a blanket in addition to the heavy clothing I’d already donned. I was certain there was no music playing anywhere around, but the lazy song was on replay in my head. Opening my door seemed to be a nightmare; the result of more than four days persistent drizzles. August rain they call it.
I managed to shut out the song and face the odds; the cold reality. Not quite long I began to hear an argument emanating from my neighbour’s house, but I gave no attention. It’s probably one of their you-didn’t-drop-money-for-soup explosive tirades. All their tantrums have a way of revolving around money, drinking or soup.
Minding my own business, I set to work. I was washing the dishes while the water I had earlier put on fire boils (I dare not bathe with cold water in that weather), with some serious whistling in-between. Multi-tasking, right? Not for long. A slap which I initially mistook for a mini thunderclap dragged me to reality. Luckily, I wasn’t the recipient. A familiar deep voice echoed.
“Po-aahh,” another knockout-ish slap followed.
“Who dash you belle?!!”
Immediately I let down the already whistling kettle and paid rapt attention. Multi-tasking fled and was replaced by a sole task —
eavesdropping attentive listening. Call me an aproko if you want, but it was instinct. Same applies to you. It does.
“A slap this massive on a cold morning like this?! Ó mà shé o!”
I wondered as I shook my head in pity. I heard a loud cry and rumblings. My imagination conjured up someone in darkness and distress, groping for something to hold and regain balance.
No further explanation required. Gbemisola — the beautiful curvaceous daughter of my neighbour — is pregnant! She’s so attractive and ebullient, you’ll break your fast prematurely if you gaze at her twice (you get the drift?). I won’t deny that I was “hopeful” myself. That was before I got the good spirit though.
I’m not certain if her dad was once in the military, para-military perhaps, I only know it took just five minutes of “disciplining” before crème de la crème confessed.
“It is bro…bro…brother Rufus,” she stuttered as she sobs.
Brother Rufus (not the real name) was a very fine brother. “Handsome” left his life in a hurry after serious issues with Gbemi’s parents. Without trying, I vividly remembered a scene where I had seen Gbemi and him together. Aproko-spirit at work.
Sometime two months before….
The detail of the exact day it was eludes me, but I’m sure it was just after one of their evening programme (they attend the same church). They were both under a mahogany tree as I walked past them in slow motion. Deliberate slow motion of course. Again, with the help of the aproko-spirit which enhances ears at times like that, I picked a few words.
“Bro Rufus, I need something from you o…” she said.
“What could that be?” He replied.
“Anything. Just sow a seed into my life.” She quickly added.
“Hmmmmn…okay. No problem.” He smiled… and the spirit left me.
I smiled as well and then moved on. That must be the new way sisters ask for gifts and favours from brothers now, I concluded. That’s no big deal. Brethren, I had no idea that the introduction to sowing (sounds like an AGN course, right?) started at that moment.
Back to now…
Hmmmmn… wonderful! So that
brother guy (respect dropped) eventually sowed a seed into her life? When was the seed sown? How? For how many times till it dropped on fertile ground? So beyond the chaste smile, he’s a farmer (a sower to be precise)? So beyond the sweet innocent mien, she has an “annual crop” in her — a seed sown by him. Questions abound.
Silly talk does more harm than necessary. It is very important to be explicit in discussions so as to eliminate ambiguity and weird gap fillings. “Hello dear/darling” to you could be a cool thing to say to that your friend (that’s not silly), to him it could mean you want more than friendship. “Sow a seed to my life” should mean “give me something — a gift, money, advice, etc.” That coming from a well-structured Gbemi to a rather randy brother could in a way mean “let’s have a nookie.” I believe you get the point.
For every sowing, an harvest is expected. It is not always a rigid constant, but it is enough justification for someone with expectations. It will not always be as silly as an impregnation — it could be sillier though — but it pays to have it in mind that everyone won’t be a cheerful giver.
I don’t know what will happen to Gbemi, Bro Rufus and the seed(s), but I’m hoping for the best. God knows I definitely won’t keep you apprised. So help me God. I let go of the aproko-spirit that’s why. It is not good to poke nose into people’s affairs.
Mba, it is not.
*aproko-spirit: (noun) a supernatural element that enhances one’s eavesdropping and gossip life or career.