We set out to Abeokuta 11am this morning, after my last class for the week, we will be spending about six days in Abeokuta, I was excited and scared simultaneously,
it was a sunny day as usual, I was dressed in native attire nursing the notion that I might meet some highly disciplined members of Sitzwe's family. (I don dey give myself hope), the knee length Ankara grown in its pulchritude, coloured leaf-green with graceful neck design on it, bedazzled with fashion stones and well styled, I matched it with brown cover-head handmade leather slippers I got from Tildaz (a good friend of mine), I knew I was looking beautiful and I carried myself in that manner, I got a lot of comments already in class, my choice of clothes of today was Elegant yet simple.
The flare gown was the first comment of Sitzwe when he saw me, he smiled and stared till I got shy, "You look graceful" he remarked. The sun wanted to kill my shine though, it unleashed heat, made me sweet and almost wearing my light makeup off. He (Sitzwe) had already ordered a cab, I got in hurriedly to cool off with the breeze from the perfectly working air-conditioner, he left the front seat where he was to join me at the back, this instantly added more significance to the journey, not that I can place what it is exactly; but it got more special.
"Oya Oga, make we dey go," he said in that friendly yet bossy tone.
He commended my beauty again to start a convo, DIARY! The butterflies that flew in my belly ehn; I cannot explain, we began to discuss starting from how we spent the morning, he was quite prepared for the journey, he brought out two tabled-water from his travel cooler where he had kept few drinks, handed one to me like he knew I was dehydrated, he also made some toasted bread which he said was just for chops till we get something interesting to eat. The driver moved at a reasonable speed, seem like one following stringent instructions, soft music was playing from the stereo, most of which were classics from the Legendary Victor Olaiya, His 'Baby Jowo' played and Sitzwe teased me, he sang it to me word after word with an electrifying gusto, his voice was not all that perfect but please, WHO CARES? I relished in his company, it amused the cab driver too that Sitzwe knew the song, so, he joined him in singing and built a family-like vibe in the vehicle, this is not the first time I am in a music playing car and definitely not the first time to listen to this particular song, I was more interested and vibing in it today because the song was not shoved down my throat like it is done in my father's cars. After few song renditions, we got to where we'd eat.
The traditional setting canteen, with vibrant cooking activities going on, the fast boiling soup on the wood-fire displaying all sort of beef got me salivating, I could see the different parts of the inner cow peeping at me, some women in the corner pounding yam and sweating profusely, the place was filled with men and women from all works of life, some men already stomach filled, rubbing their bare stomach with toothpick in their mouths, some drinking some fresh palmwine after the hot lunch, chattering loudly, some devouring their meal as the fan themselves with their handkerchiefs, we were in a queue to get food, it surprised me, thinking of how much money the owner would be making made me want to quit law, cars parked outside in the scores just to eat, men and women irrespective of financial or public status are in the queue to get served. The seemingly busy but focused workers were dressed in a bright yellow T-Shirt going about their duties, some serving the swallow, some serving the stew while others did dishwashing and other extra services to seated customers. Our cab man seems to be a popular jingo, he lit up the place with excessive and effusive greetings to his counterparts and other familiar persons of his.
We got served after a while on the queue, I ate the Amala with adept seriousness, It was delicious, adventurous and interesting, you know packing a lot of the well prepared, seasoned and drawing 'ewedu' and bean soup 'gbegiri' will give you a lot of sensation; something close to ecstasy, I even got soup stains of my beautiful dress, TWICE! but you know its green, the stain looked like an added design, we had the meats served in a different bowl, they were as big as my fist and the amount shook me, just #50 compared to the #300 we pay for a piece of meat not as big on campus, the sweetness and price made me enjoy the meal and also explained the rationale for the long and never ending queue (the food is delicious, plenty and affordable), it is like being served at home after making the first class. The meats (about eight of them) went down with some 'fresh from the tree' palm wine, Sitzwe and the cabman drank two cups each and I was on one, it is nothing like the palm wine sold in Lagos, anyone that messes with it will have to leave the canteen the following day. After downing my one cup of palm wine ( I was the last to finish); we set to continue our journey, few minutes of Air conditioned breeze threw in a deep sleep, I slept placing my head on Sitzwe's lap, before ceding to sleep, I felt Sitzwe's hands moving on my body, I don't know where exactly but it felt good, he mentioned that I'd just chuckle for no precise reason, I was too drunk to control anything.
Opening my eyes, it was 4pm, we were at our destination, I missed all the road sightings I promised myself to see, I was not too disappointed, the joy from the meal made up for it. I quickly arranged myself on getting to the house, unexplainable tension overwhelmed me, it was all over me, so much, I began to stutter when asked by Sitzwe if I was ok, he laughed at my restlessness, I posed a very scared outfit, the fear and thoughts of acceptance rode on all my intelligence, he dropped the bag, held my face and said it was going to be fine, that did the trick, I was relaxed, my nerves retired and I felt a little confidence as I held his hands. (Diary, Am I not Going nuts bayi?)
"you'll see, my grandma will be your best friend" he assured as he laughed again.
We strolled into the close, unknown cars are not allowed in it, we got to the gate of the house, a boungainvillea with a wooden gate which was strange to me, I walked in and could not help but admire the diverse, elegant and royal presence of horticuture, what more can one get from an horticuturist, house pained all white, simple but with some emphatic architecture glory, Sitzwe niece came out to receive us, screaming all the way as she jumped on and hugged him, she checked him out like he dropped from heaven, giving all sort of good remarks about his looks and gait, he reciprocated the gesture, they hugged again repeatedly. She finally noticed me and gave me a familiar smile, very charming one it is, she is gap-toothed just Sitzwe but it seems to fit her more! She had this "my brother's girl" aura that almost got into my head, I was feeling welcomed but still looked forward to the old woman.
We walked into the living room, met his grandma using the land phone, seeing us walk in, she discharged her caller to welcome us
"ah ah ah! Oko mi Olasunkanmi" she said with a powerful Africanism, she smiled too and alas! she is gap-toothed too, I began to fantasize about my child being gap-toothed; like I was sure Sitzwe will marry me.
Sitzwe prostrated all flat greeting his grandma, I was taken aback a little on this, even my own very stringent and discipline home doesn't greet this way, he laid flat there while his grandma prayed for him and rendered his eulogy (Oriki), I wondered what all these will mean to a South African raised nineteen years old, but the whole thing showed how embroiled Sitzwe is in the Yoruba culture, he was raised in a pretty different way, as advanced as his family is; they are cultured, I need to teach this in my house. His grandma spoke Yoruba like she was an illiterate, I mean she had the notorious Egba dialect, so hardcore that I struggled to understand her, then, she spoke English like she had no idea what the Yoruba language is, the mix and transition were quite fascinating. Then she came to me, I knelt down totally on my kneels to greet for the first (this bid to be the main chic is serious), the shockingly 'young' old woman toned down on her Egba dialect and spoke understandable Yoruba to me; asking about the welfare of just EVERYTHING, I replied cheerfully, though shy; I continually stole glimpse of face, she is beautiful, I am oppressed by the beauty, her warmth and good cheer was out of this world until she asked if my parent knew I was with her grandson, that pursued the genuine smile on my face and kept a feigned one, I looked at Sitzwe for backup but he threw his face away!
"I am just kidding," the grandma said, "I can tell the journey here is personal, I hope you'd love what you see well enough to want to be our wife," she said smiling
"She is beautiful" she ended as she faced Sitzwe
The foolish Sitzwe kept on smiling, It was an awkward, funny but adorable moment, I nursed my fruit juice served by Shade (his niece), she lightened my mood with some girly chat, she is awaiting results so she can study Law too, we got along well, Sitzwe and his grandma talked indistinctly, quite loud but not enough to hear them.
We had Dinner hours later, Spaghetti made by the Grandma herself, I was quite filled from the day; but the sweetness of the meal made me finish it all, these old women sure have recipes to cooking one can only inherit on their sick bed, the Spaghetti was exactly how I loved it, not oily yet not dry, talk of the fishes swimming in it, every bite was like watch like watching Titanic. I commended the meal and thanked her, "You are most welcome darling" she said with a joy.
We retired to the rooftop of the house, we were served a mixture of cocktail and a strong vodka, you can guess who did this, all four of us sat as the moon stared at us, as the alcohol kicked in, we talked endlessly about everything that came to mind, it was educating and exciting at the same time. From government, relationships, families, culture, politice et al, we just could not stop, everyone was a talker even Sitzwe, he seem to spew when he sees the right gathering, the way his grandma contributed on topics was amazing, even topics I alluded she had no idea about, she was articulate, deft and very convincing, she countered brilliantly and supported excellently, she supported most of the things I said, it felt good, she is a strong conservative in terms of ideology but a respecter of freewill. We discussed abortion and she stood firm that Pro-choice approach is wrong,
"You cannot be right for depriving somebody of life, a condom is cheaper than an abortion, wrong things for right reasons is a very senseless way to function mentally," she said deeply
Her words were really captivating, I wish most of my lecturers function like her, she helped cement my standpoint on Abortion - I am a Pro-life now! I will keep any baby that comes especially if It is Sitzwe's (just kidding) - Iya Funbi will kill me!
We discussed till it was almost midnight, grandma left to sleep and Shade followed, I and Sitzwe talked some more, nothing in particular, we knew it was needless talks, that it was just in the way of emotions, we got quiet and began to kiss, continued from where it stopped, I was getting less-scared of kissing him (My mom's fear!, LOL!), this time, he touched everywhere like he owned it, I was helplessly enjoying it, the moon seem so big, it looked like God was staring at us, I could not tell whether he is happy or not, I did not care either, I guess God expressed himself when this rain began to fall, no breeze nor ligthening, it began to drizzle, we thought we could use it to our advantage until this heavy thunder struck!
"E wo le wa o! (Come inside!)" Grandma yelled. Sounded like Wunmi!
We got in, did not know whether to continue or Nah, we are lying next to each other, I am sure I won't make any move but if he does, I will oblige gladly and probably push it to the extreme (we might do it!) - My hormones are angry at the moment, I am so wet, I hope he doesn't touch me, I pray he does. This horniness is not making me think straight, we talk later Diary.