There are the days;
When mummy walks into my pink themed room and sits on my sheets.
Then, she picks up one of my pillows and rests her arms on it and I immediately become giddy with excitement,
As I know that mummy wants to 'gist' me about anything and everything.

Mummy tells me about her past.
About those days which, like the morning dew, have long faded.
About those escapades which like the taste of honey, is long gone.
About those fancy things, which like 'Wili wili', has long disappeared.

Mummy tells me about the time she was a 'sisi oge'.

That time when she was the real Carolina which most muscians were looking for.
The times she would 'jejely' be reading her book in the library and a boy would walk up to her with their best toasting presentations.

They all came in different shapes and sizes, she said.

The one with gold chains on his neck, a venza car key on his left hand, a ripped jean trying not to fall from his bombom, and a flowery shirt with two buttons opened to reveal his chest.

The one who was old enough to be her father with a potbelly the size of a 8 months old pregnancy.

The geek with glasses on his face, braces on his teeth, smartly ironed shirts with fidgeting fingers and shifting shoes, also came to try his luck while his friends cheered him from the window without knowing that she had already seen them.
They all came, but she rebuffed their advances.

I would throw my head backwards and laugh at mummy's description of the men.
Then, she would hush me up and continue her story,
Telling me that daddy would soon be home and she would have to go and take care of him.

Mummy would continue her tales.
Of the times she passed through a neighborhood and got a letter from the association of housewives in that neighborhood begging her not to come again,
For their husbands had lost their senses and were also losing their homes.

Then, mummy told me about the girls that envied her.

About the hostel friends that had gone to meet the herbalist for 'atike' (facial powder).
Not the kind of medicated 'atike' that she uses on me when I have rashes.
But the kind of atike that casts a charming spell on men around.

Some other girls asked the herbalist for perfume.
One that they would spray on their bodies in order to attract men around.

Mama laughed hard as she told me about the results of such ventures.

The girl who had gotten the 'atike' (charming facial powder) had mistakenly rubbed it while making up in her room and had quickly ran to the toilet to go and answer the call of nature.

Then her father, who had just eased himself, came out and looked squarely into her face.

The poor man who had no 'oogun' (power), became transfixed immediately and began to profess love to his daughter.

Poor man that had to be tied and taken to the herbalist who gave him twelve strokes of the genie's cane before senses returned back to his head.

The perfume lady suffered a much worse fate.
As she sprayed the perfume from home; entered her car; locked her windows and firmly drove off.

All with the intent of reaching Mike Adenuga's house at Banana Island before coming down.
For she held on to the hope that the perfume would attract only the big men there.

The lady's plan backfired big time.
As her car broke down in the middle of a street in Ajegunle.
And the poor auntie was forced to come down from her car in order to complete the mission.

Mummy laughed so much that her ribs hurt as she described the next thing that happened.

Immediately the lady opened her door and stepped out, all the men who were around caught a whiff of the perfume and began to come towards her.

The ones playing draft and 'ayo' left their games and began to come.

The ones sitting on benches and dictating numbers for the Baba Ijebu agent to play, immediately stood up and began to advance.

The masons with sand and sweat plastered on their bare chests, left their 'ponkpon' (iron bowls) to join in moving towards the lady,

And even the man in suit, whose hand was already ferrying a ball of Amala mixed with egusi, dropped the Amala, rinsed his hands in the oily soup and walked out of Iya Tajudeen's Amala spot,
All to the bewildering looks of the other female customers.

From all directions, these men came.
And Aunty had no choice but to race for her dear life.

Mummy looked deep into my eyes as she finished this story.
Then she told me that there was time for everything.

Told me that I would one day become the Caro that would give boys sleepless night.
Told me that I would be the Centre of attraction for most people.

But she told me never to compromise.
Never to think that I would hold their attention for the rest of my life.
Never to make any decision without consulting my best friend, Jesus.
Never to make myself so cheap to anyone.
For everyone likes cheap things, but only the best go for the rare things.

"You are not a thing meant to satisfy any man's pleasure only" she said.
"You are a priceless jewel of Inestimable worth created to conquer the world" she concluded.

Then she stood up, and told me to come and wash the dishes.
#AtinukeBashorunwrites

Okontas.com