Tears Of Jonathan

this too is written in real time, and as i go i'll do my best to reduce the density of my previous effort. however if its comdemnable, feel free to condemn.  

it was a little past two in the afternoon and the merciless sun baked the still air outside. cars and bodies glinted but the human train chugged nicely along, propelled by the inherent force that keeps cities in motion the world over.

it was no joke that it would take a cataclysm to still the giddy flow of lagos, for the weather has proven inept in the task.

jonathan hated lagos. he found it singularly taxing to stand the smell, the boisterousness, the traffic, the scrawny market women, the brawny miscreants, the bloated chauffered moneybags and the endless stream of faceless mobs that clutter every spare inch  of lagos. he hated his company for transfering him from his nice cozy office in port harcourt to this pit rank with the all-pervading stench of rot and corruption.

sitting in the air-conditioned refuge of the eatery jonathan stared vacantly outside through glass walls at the disorder outside.  the ubiquitous cellphone-wielding, tight-skirt wearing college girls were out in droves to make a killing, shaking every shakable limb to the delight of leery male motorists and pedestrians. car horns blared incessantly amid the roar and sputters of vehicles of every conceivable make and condition, interspersed by the guttural bellows of curses and screams.

in and out of the swelling  and sweltering crowd darted malnourished juveniles hawking strange assortments of wares. they were strong lads, tempered by the streets, and  well on their way to full-fledged delinquency.

jonathan took it all in and sighed. here was a replica of Babel if one ever needed to experience what it must have been like for the ancients to be caught up in a cacophony of strange voices and surging crowds.

his reverie was interrupted by the short dark serving girl.

"sir, do you want to order now?"

jonathan was at the point of shaking his head and repeating he was still waiting for friends when the glass doors at the entrance swung inwards and in came Bayo and Bashir, friends of his from undergraduate days in University of Nigeria, Nsuka.

both smiled when they saw jonathan and made their way toward him. bayo still had that swagger of utter self-confidence that so nicely complemented his bulk, and it was a waddle that didnt fail to announce his entrance. bashir on the other hand still maintained that appearance of trying to appear small, perhaps a characteric that had its origins in his fulani genes. the fulanis are known for their shy disposition.

jonathan stood up and they shook hands while bayo glanced theatrically at the serving girl. he smiled wolfishly, exposing finely set gleaming teeth.

"   hello", he ventured and the girl merely said " welcome sir".

"old boy", said bashir," lag is doing you bad o! you are looking more tinted than bayo's 406"

they all sat down, bayo wincing as he forced his bulk into the plastic chair.

"just a meat pie and viju milk please" jonathan ordered without glancing at the menu on the table.

bashir ordered fries with scrambled eggs and a cup of yoghurt while bayo, deeply engrossed in the menu, chain-ordered rice, goatmeat peppersoup, salad, fries, and a 50cl bottle of coke.

jonathan stared at his friend in mock shock. " when u called and said let's meet for lunch, i never thought u had a feast in mind."

bashir laughed. " the man had the choices of whether to eat to live, or to live to eat"

"apparently" said jonathan " he chose the latter"

the girl walked off with the orders and bayo stared at her receding backside, which was quite ample.

"you are doing a disservice to your marital life" said bashir.

"my brother," bayo said, still staring at the girl." when you have been married to the same woman for seven years every bombom is a welcomed change."

"speaking of marriage" said bashir to jonathan." how's marian?"

bashir had been jonathan's friend for way too long for him to know his friend wasn't just asking after marian's health. he was asking how things were between jonathan and his estranged wife of three years. it was one aspect of his life that jonathan didnt want to delve into, not even with bosom friends and certainly not on a day like this. he had pushed the hurt and the anger beneath the surface and to bring it up now would serve no pupose other than to ruin his lunch.

so he muttered something about marian being fine and pretended to lose himself in his cellphone. bashir got the hint and peered over bayo's shoulder as if he saw someone interesting.

"ah ah!" gushed bayo" nokia N93! man you have really bought something. i've been hankering after that phone for sometime now but i can't scrape the dough to obtain."

jonathan flicked the phone as if  seeing it for the first time." i saw my boss with it and i have a weakness for nokia. its all over the place in computer village now"



"its the money now. how are things in your bank now sef. i hear say you guys are having problems with the securities and exchange commission over some bla bla forex wahala."

jonathan shook his head. "thats just tabloid nonsense. sentinel bank is tight. you woulnt believe tha amount of money in this town"

"seems a lot of it is sticking on to you". said bashir.

<oops!gotta answer the phone. will pik this up latr>

(i) it's known as a cliche, yes but writers employ it all the time.
(ii) depends on the clarity sought to impose
(iii) its called editing and this work was written on the go.
(iv) if the event narrated occured in the past, passive is employed
(v) certain contexts allow the use of all these
(vi) um, not sure what u mean there.

thanks lopez.