Looking For Caro
Some mornings you wake up and you just don’t want to get out of bed. You just don’t feel like getting up, the bed is too comfy, your eyes just wouldn’t light up, your limbs wouldn’t bulge. On such mornings, you just have to get up, because there’re meals to cook, classes to attend, compounds and houses to clean, wares to trade, jobs to hunt, an exhaustive list, then money to earn, like in my case.
It was a morning like one of such, so I got up from bed reluctantly, propelled only by a domineering cerebrum whose reasoning drowned the rebellious protest of my whole lazy body. I sauntered hurriedly to the bathroom and performed the necessary cleaning procedures. After that and a hurried breakfast, I set out for work, already acclimated to waking up.
I strolled briskly down the street to the bus stop where I’d take a bus to work. During the walk, I spared some time to greet the neighbors I passed on the way, superficially, in a similar way, but really my “good mornings” may have had the same tone and voice, but they definitely did not convey synonymous wishes. To Mustafa, the nice jovial ‘aboki’ who always sold me things on credit, sometimes giving me some wraps of gum or sticks of cigar as ‘jara’, and to Iya Las, who had helped me settle okada one time, my ‘good morning’ was actually good morning.
To Pastor, the pastor who woke up at five every morning, adorned his vocal appurtenance, an old voice amplifier (you know how noisier the old ones are), and set about winning souls, the good morning that heartily proceeded from my smiling lips was processed in my head as “get a life!!!” To Mama Nkechi, the gossip who was always peddling rumours about how useless I was, my hearty greeting concealed what was conceived in my heart, “I hope you drink JIK!!!” To Chief, whose new jeep zoomed pass me as he waved back a reply to my ‘good morning’, I prayed he hit a truck this morning, for not stopping to offer a ride.
At the bus stop, I check my G-shock watch (or was it a chronometer?) and saw I still had some time to glance at headlines at the newspaper stand. There wasn’t much in the ‘much’ in the news today. There was no news on Boko Haram or kidnapping, and that was good news, hope it remains like that forever. ASUU strike still on, some agitated students in some states had started protesting, against ASUU. I hissed, dumb peeps, the axe should be grounded with FG, they have the money, why mark it down for 2015 while the universities could go to hell? Well, as for me, if I was ASUU, I wouldn’t compromise at all, c’mon, we’ve been doing this since 2009, let it end once and for all. What’s the point of calling off the strike now, only to embark on another one next year?
I detached my mind from the whole issue, after all, it’s none of my business. What parallels a garage tout with overloading? I left the paper stand to get a bus to work, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The tiny queue present when I arrived at the bus stop had metamorphosed into a mammoth crowd, I sighed, it would take the strength of Hercules to get a bus now.
Several minutes, a rumpled shirt and a dusty shoe later, I was in a bus, an old rickety one, sardined with two other passengers in the front seat. The front seat was meant to carry just one passenger, at most two, but being the third passenger was the only way, I had to elbow the guy who struggled with me for the seat, I got a blow in response, if the bus hadn’t sped off, I’d have gotten more.
I settled in the bus (better put, I squeezed into a fairly comfortable position), checked my eye, thank God for sharp reflexes, it wasn’t too bad…yet, who knows maybe by tonight…
I picked up my phone as I always do on my way to work, Lola had replied my message on Facebook, she’d agreed on having a date with me, I had to start saving, no lunch this week. I checked my BBM messages, Kunle had finally sent his pretty cousin’s pin, I added her and sent a message immediately, Priscilla on what Sapp wanted to know more about me, I replied, asking her to be more specific.
My friend Laz had uploaded a picture on Twitter and mentioned me and the new girl he was hitting on, I zoomed the picture and immediately kwakwarized peepeecopeecally at his obotic face. I dm’d him to remove the picture immediately before it spoilt his P, I also reminded him about his ex’s contact. She had been ‘generous’ to him, maybe I too could get lucky.
I don’t work for a recruiting company, in case you’re wondering what I’m up to. I’m not recruiting for my company, God forbid, they’re still owing me some months pay. The fewer we are, the better my chances of getting paid. I’m not a model scout or a talent scout either but I’m always checking out girls’ DPs, profile pics and avis. I’m always chasing contacts. Factually, I chase more contacts than paper. You have a sister? I’m interested. Broken up with your girl? A chance for me to approach her. Your pretty cousin is in town? I’m coming over…
Why? I’m looking for a girl you can name Caro.
Yes Caro, the same Caro. The same Caro yellow sisi, the same Sister Caro, the same Carolina. However, I wouldn’t mind if her body’s bad oh, in fact, her body isn’t necessary, and Carolina doesn’t need to be a diva. I just need my own Caro. I’d however not want the yellow sisi that’ll chop my money follow oyibo, but I want Caro.
Le struggle for le independence from single life has been tough. I’ve gone through a lot searching for Caro, I’ve been beaten up by a boyfriend I was misled to believe didn’t exist, I’ve spent much trying to make them fall, still they defy gravity. I’ve spent hours building up a familiarity that would culminate in a relationship, I’ve sacrificed lunch to take them to dinner, yet…
Despite all these, I won’t give up on Caro. I’ll keep searching for her ’cause I know she’s out there, somewhere. Maybe she’s the new girl across the street from my house whose digits I’m yet to acquire. She could also be the fair skinned young lady at the super mart I stop at after work everyday just to see her. Who knows, that new girl at work could be Caro. Come to think of it, her name even rhymes with Caro. That’s a sign, God punish work ethics!!!
Whoever she is, wherever she is, please tell Caro if you know her coordinates, that I’m looking for her… Yeba!!!