Onyinye Ubah

The harmattan wind in December had ushered in the spirit of Christmas. The Eastern part of Nigeria is already ablaze with the arrival of men and women, boys and girls who are poised on having a great time with family and friends, resting and having fun at the same time.

Ekene Dubai is painting Nnewi red, Charlie Malaysia is making eyes go green in Ekwulobia, Dubem Port-harcourt, the newest oil and gas magnate’s presence is sweeping the town of Abagana with money, Edu Brazil is not left out of the spirit of Christmas all the way down to Ihiala and Anyi Lagos has arrived to set aglow the town of Alor. Once you set your foot into Awka capital of thirty three villages, young men from South Africa are beaming with radiance, giving other young men based in the town a run for their money. The locally based men run after the returnees to find out ‘the way’. Exotic cars are swerving in large numbers somewhere around Joe Best Avenue in Awka-etiti, where old women and passers-by wave at them telling them, ‘ nno, welcome’. The legendary smell of Christmas has filled the air.

You stare at your delicious curves in the mirror, with your ample bosom dangling like a pendulum and your hips swinging like a volcanic eruption at the slightest movement. You assure yourself you have two weeks to make it happen as everyone keeps reminding you that the biological clock is ticking fast and you have to get married. You dance to Flavour’s song, ‘N’abania’, as you are ready to put your best foot forward and make things happen.

You know that your Aunty, the Akata, that is very raw and despite the fact that age is not fair on her, she is still very conversant with what is going on in the game. She pulls you aside and whispers to you,

‘Nne, this your Adazi-Enu, Adazi-Ani and Adazi- Nnukwu must get you a husband this time around.’ She says making emphasis on the weapons of your vital statistics.

You blush and laugh, knowing fully well that was your mission for crossing over the Niger bridge to celebrate Christmas. Before she leaves, she pulls you aside again and warns you jokingly not to take those men from the U.K seriously, that they are ‘aka gum’, very stingy.

All the clothes you came with have a plunging neckline that reveals your ample bosom accentuated by a very good push up bra. You wear a gold necklace and place the pendant in between your cleavages, so that as you catwalk in your high heels and they bounce, you are sure that there will be commotion amongst men. You sit majestically in the front seat of beautiful cars as though its your birth right. These men always introduce to you ladies that come around them as their cousins and you are left wondering why they all have many female cousins. There is always something striking, those cousins of theirs always cast a very ugly look at you. But then, you push those thoughts aside because you don’t want any distraction on your way to getting your mission accomplished.

You are taken to Oyibo’s joint in Nnobi where you savour and enjoy well garnished chicken and expensive wines. He makes money rain on you. Your hopes are escalated. As you wine and dine, you could see his eyes beaming with lust. All his imagination is on how to cast his rod into your honey pot. And not very surprising, it happens. He goes into you and after that, sleeps off immediately. You lie beside him wondering where exactly this whole thing was going to. He does that again and again, days after.

You sit with your friends to discuss your escapades so far. Nnenna tells you how she got herself a ring and the young man has already met her family and ready to do the needful. You also heard that Nkolika, the village champion, has also clinched a man for herself. You are dumbfounded wondering who exactly you have offended and why haven’t your net gotten you any good fish. You go back to the drawing board and ready to work on your client management. Nnenna went further to tell you that her secret lies in the fact that she took the ‘animal route’, rewinding the brain of the young man back to front.

Like a newly found treasure, you held on to Nnenna’s advice on the’animal route’. You decided to up your game,after all, you have a mission to accomplish. You told him how you were ready to take him to cloud nine and above. He smiles lustfully and licks his tongue like the animal whose posture you were going to take in playing the game that night. He was ready for you. While in the field of play, with beads of sweat running down your face, you turn to him, with a voice mixed with moaning and desperation, you ask,

‘Baby, what are we?’

He doesn’t answer. You are not sure if he just ignored you or couldn’t answer because he was busy at work with the rod – casting and sweating, sweating and casting. You see your reflection in the mirror, knowing in your heart of hearts that you are only being used. You have no choice but to allow him play to the end of the match. Just like before, he sleeps off immediately, leaving you like a child who was given a half piecemeal. You lie on the bed staring at the intricate details of the ceiling to the extent of noticing the brownish stain and cobwebs on it. He lies beside you snoring like a generator that has not been serviced in three years. Amidst the noise, you could still hear Aunty Akata’s voice in your head telling you,

‘You don’t have to put all your eggs in one basket’.

Perhaps, the higher the number of rods,the better your chances of getting yourself a ring. Maybe there is a strong connect between lords and rings. No, rods and rings, you mean? After all, you can’t stand on a spot to watch a masquerade. Immediately, you change your strategies, casting your tentacles all across the sea. With a great speed, you tear down your bars of specs, allowing all and sundry. You jump from the arms of one young man to another, not forgetting that time is running out.

It’s January, finally, the game is over. You try getting in touch with Edu Brazil but his number is not available, obviously, he has gone back to his base. Rumour has it that he paid the bride price of a young girl who will clock 19 in March that was recommended by his mother. She lives down your street and just gained admission into College of Education, Umunze. You heard his mother insisted that he should go for a fresh and innocent blood and not an old cargo that is about to enter demurrage. You almost fainted at the rustiness of those harsh and senseless words. You couldn’t eat for days. He has blocked you on every medium available. You call Anyi Lagos, his number rings. You exhale in relief. There is a change in the tone of his voice, not the usual vibrant and smooth voice that won your heart. He tells you how his forty feet container from China, worth millions of Naira fell into the high sea. Days after, you call him again. He tells you the story that sounds like the one you usually tell that woman that lives in your shoes. What’s that her name again? The next time you call him, your calls go into voicemail and what happens next? Your guess is as good as mine.

You sit in the lab waiting endlessly for your results with your hand carrying your jaw, fighting the battle of Armageddon with your conscience. You are in total disarray. You are not sure of the number of army of chinchi, bedbugs,termites and other things you pick up during ‘interhouse sports’ now living in your body. It could also be possible that those matches you played got you a goal, who knows if it might be a brace or even a hat trick. You close your eyes pleading with the referee of nature to rule it as an offside. As the lab attendant hands you a copy of the result, a drop of tears trickle down your cheek because it’s already late to realize you were nothing but a sister in the rod.

Photo Credit: Nofuchu Studio

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