Another short story...

My lecturer back then in school usually told us this story about how to detect two Yorubas in an airport overseas. He is Yoruba too, by the way.

According to him, Dele (one of them) would sight Olu (the second) from afar, set down his HEAVY luggage, take a few steps back with his neck craned forward and his eyes squinted.

DELE: Is this not Olu or are my eyes playing tricks on me? (Shakes his head violently from side to side) No, that's impossible. This isn't Olu. (Nods vigorously) Of course, this is Olu.

Meanwhile, Olu has sighted Dele too and reproducing same drama as his friend.

Then, from the distance, each ignoring his luggage, with arms spread out wide and a cry of triumph, both MEN will run towards each other, hug themselves, fuss over each other like a mother inspecting her lost and found child, repeat the hug again and jump around jollily, all the while unmindful of spectators.

The end of the story? They would both spend some time in the cell, arrested for PUBLIC disturbance.

My lecturer's point? No matter how educated a Yoruba man is, his Yorubaness will still come through when occasionally demands...

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Ohibenemma:
Another short story...

My lecturer back then in school usually told us this story about how to detect two Yorubas in an airport overseas. He is Yoruba too, by the way.

According to him, Dele (one of them) would sight Olu (the second) from afar, set down his HEAVY luggage, take a few steps back with his neck craned forward and his eyes squinted.

DELE: Is this not Olu or are my eyes playing tricks on me? (Shakes his head violently from side to side) No, that's impossible. This isn't Olu. (Nods vigorously) Of course, this is Olu.

Meanwhile, Olu has sighted Dele too and reproducing same drama as his friend.

Then, from the distance, each ignoring his luggage, with arms spread out wide and a cry of triumph, both MEN will run towards each other, hug themselves, fuss over each other like a mother inspecting her lost and found child, repeat the hug again and jump around jollily, all the while unmindful of spectators.

The end of the story? They would both spend some time in the cell, arrested for PUBLIC disturbance.

My lecturer's point? No matter how educated a Yoruba man is, his Yorubaness will still come through when occasionally demands...

This scene is obviously from the 60s. Nowadays there are too many Yoruba men in London for them to acknowledge each other.
The word you should use is replicate not reproduce.
I like the end how they both got arrested.

Ohibenemma:
Same fact in this short story, an African remains African, no matter his education.

cc: repogirl, ishilove, kingphilip, missterious, missmossy, and all others....

I sit in the doctor’s office, on one of the only two chairs meant for visitors or patients. Even in my worried state of mind, I can’t help imagining what will happen should the doctor have more than two visitors at a time. They can always bring in a bench, I think, providing an answer to my question myself.
I look at every other thing, but the doctor. An almanac displaying a labelled image of the human heart is on the wall directly behind the doctor’s chair. It is hung a few inches above his head, such that a sizeable proportion of it would be covered should he arise. There is the wall cabinet some inches beside this. The three books it holds are each bigger than the big bible permanently sitting on the lectern in my church. I can’t remember ever seeing that bible put to use; every reader usually mounts the lectern with his or her own bible. On my right, the doctor’s left, is an examination table. On the wall beside it is hung another almanac showing the male and female human body; the labelling is very detailed. I am unable to catch some of the letterings from where I sit because of their sizes, and even have to squint to see the larger ones. The ceiling fan whirls overhead at a very swift rate; I wonder how the sheets of paper manage to remain unruffled on the doctor’s table. At the far corner is a fridge, its sparkling whiteness almost blending with the whiteness of the wall. It emits a low hum, providing the perfect tonic to my thoughts as my eyes dart around.
‘Dr Ohio,’ the doctor says, after what seems like eternity, but is actually less than a minute, ‘I am surprised that one with your kind of exposure would find himself in this position.’
I sigh and look at him, at those transparent glasses balanced on his nose. His nostrils are spread out, like two satellite dishes mounted on same pole such that they face opposite directions. I wonder if he is aware of his nose’s need for a corrective surgery.

Ann2012, Enny2013, chigozie69

This story ends abruptly. Oh well.

meobizy:

This scene is obviously from the 60s. Nowadays there are too many Yoruba men in London for them to acknowledge each other.
The word you should use is replicate not reproduce.
I like the end how they both get arrested.

From the 60s? The man is barely 60 himself. Not just two Yoruba men, but two friends who hadn't seen each other for a long time.

Replicate ? It's actually a synonym of Reproduce... Thanks for the time though; expecting more.

meobizy:
This story stops abruptly. Oh well.

Continues shortly, sir.

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Waoh! I'm just excited I stumbled upon this today. Really had nothing to read as millieademi is on a hiatus after completing the first part of her Ocean of Secrets, and decided to look up some profiles for anything that would catch my fancy.

Ohibenemma, I love this! We are truly more African than we think...if you look at it one kain way.

observer88:
Waoh! I'm just excited I stumbled upon this today. Really had nothing to read as millieademi is on a hiatus after completing the first part of her Ocean of Secrets, and decided to look up some profiles for anything that would catch my fancy.

Ohibenemma, I love this! We are truly more African than we think...if you look at it one kain way.

Yes o! Thanks for liking and commenting as much. The story enjoyed quite positive reviews offline, but E no gree blow for nairaland. I can understand sha. Some love Juju just as others love Jazz.

Ohibenemma:


Yes o! Thanks for liking and commenting as much. The story enjoyed quite positive reviews offline, but E no gree blow for nairaland. I can understand sha. Some love Juju just as others love Jazz.

I can't agree more. I have a maternal uncle like the guy in your story. I don't know exactly why, but he had 3 wives before his death. Maybe it was because he wanted a male child sha. He was lucky to have his first son after eleven daughters, and the boy was from his first wife. He would later have another son though from his last wife.

And the man was a retired college principal!

observer88:


I can't agree more. I have a maternal uncle like the guy in your story. I don't know exactly why, but he had 3 wives before his death. Maybe it was because he wanted a male child sha. He was lucky to have his first son after eleven daughters, and the boy was from his first wife. He would later have another son though from his last wife.

And the man was a retired college principal!

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