A speck of shame

A speck of shame

The moment we stepped out of the sport utility van that was used to convey us to the venue which had been carefully set for our unique advent, we were greeted with paparazzi and lots of flashes from several camera stand. It was like heaven on earth. He was dressed in a Rolex suit and a tornado wrist watch which I have taken time and carefully hand picked…By the way they were all second hand products, ‘Okrika’ which I got from Mama Obinia bend down select stand. I almost lost my back to a brisk tussle between me and one other girl there for the same unit course. She was a pro judging from the way she hurriedly breezed through all the clothes and had already picked out most of the good ones and leaving me with nothing, so I had to apply more footprint on my gear before I go home empty handed. I grinned as a peck of nostalgia smeared my thoughts as I fumbled through. It was David Diop’s ‘Africa my Africa’ that I have been forced to know by heart just to pass a course I greatly feared. What intrigued me more in the poem were the lines “Is this you, this back that is bent/This back that breaks/Under the weight of humiliation/This back trembling with red scars/And saying yes to the whip under the midday sun”. I covered my dentition to avoid an already emanating embarrassment. Indeed, my back and hips were really bent and being whipped hard by the scourging sun. Mama Obinia by the way, will not be bothered I did not get any since she gets paid by whosever gets the clothes no preferential. All the clothes were fixed so no haggling is permitted. That has made her business grow in strength and that meant for us more cheap and affordable clothing.

Haha!!! Nigeria consumes anything not only wears oh! Electronics and anything you can think of and do you blame them, even our leaders are second hand product because we vote for the same people assuming multifarious labels. Not too long ago we clamored for change which was an Irony of the century. But they simply change their garments and put on new ones and we all think we are electing different people: political dribbling I call it. They are not different from ‘Okrika’.

It was a sensational event one that was mind blowing. Prior to that I had humored myself over the mirror “I am Judith Hanrankis, that doesn’t mean you should suddenly hold my hand and kiss. Was only joking anyways. I work with Arytocratz media in Tasued and I am also into big time modeling. I also run a blog I can go on and on.” I laughed hysterically at my anxiety. Not only that, I had fortified my mental lexicon so as not to disgrace myself since I will be meeting the faces and pockets that own the fashion industry, I thought as I pulled up my gown to make the curves obviously accessible to preying eyes, If you know what I mean. I laced my lips with pink gloss, lined my lids with mascara, those were artificial, I had earlier told Funto, my stylist, to help me increase the lashes; had Mary and Kate poured on my face, one on the left the other on the right; not leaving anything to chance not even my cleavages.. All these showoff is curtsy Golden penny noodles. It is just one of their little ways of showing their appreciation to their esteemed customers and a ploy to garner more consumers. Nigeria likes awuf eeh!!

This is where the kill joy comes in. He is huge, tough and has a girlfriend of whom I am close friends with. I have always wondered and I am still perplexed at the two, my friend and him I mean. I would normally imagine how their romantic encounter will be like. I am guessing something close to ‘beauty and the beast’. Like you know I entered for a contest and emerged the winner due to votes cunningly got for myself through a site, I will not mention its name for the sake of future deals. Why are you pulling a face? That is how we roll in this part of the world everything is padi padi. The government run their things and we equally run ours.

Come to think of it do you think all those that enter for competitions are qualified? Don’t get it way over your head. It is simply scratch my back I scratch yours; everyone goes home smiling. For some reasons not known to me the guy I was supposed to go with, which is also fake by the way, went AWOL and I had to improvise and like every other sharp girl I had to get a ghost worker, a temporal replacement not to forfeit the win. There you have it. That is why there is a Testimony in this wonderfully painted picture.

“Thank you very much” as I waved momentarily to the wild echoes and applaud of my newly got fans. And just like I had anticipated there comes the Mic, but the question I was expecting has been erased and a new set of program is being played making it sound strange to my drums

“That must be your bouncer in suit, so where is your handsome and adorable boyfriend?” he questioned. I felt like a breeze of Samson blew me but I still comport myself until the tornado of Delilah swept my wobbly legs off the ground. “Are you alright” he asked earnestly. “I am..” struggling to regain my balance “…fine” This guy will disgrace me today I gasped silently.
Please, help me. what should my response be?

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