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The Nigerian Predator That Is A Man - Literature - Nairaland

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The Nigerian Predator That Is A Man by Redmosquito(m): 1:09am On Nov 16, 2020
Note from the Author- It has been a long time since I last uploaded anything here on Nairaland. I even have a story still unfinished from my past, for this I am sorry to all the readers I left hanging. Life has been turbulent for me in many ways, it still is, but I cannot wait for a calm. Over the years, having picked up quite a number of hobbies and qualifications, I have changed in many ways, but in many more ways than naught I am still the same Redmosquito who joined this site just as a pubescent child and I still love to write and still hunger for the pen. Though, I have very little to write about, for the unfortunate reason that the ideas never seem to come to my mind fully-formed; despite the intense itch. Nonetheless, I have resolved to simply grind it out of my soul, no matter how blurry and half-formed the stories are in my head.
The stories I shall upload on here shall be based on my real-life experiences, some readers might have seen some of these stories floating about Twitter, cos it garnered a bit of publicity on my page, I have edited them into what I feel is a higher quality.

I hope with this page, I shall be able to re-ignite the flames of literary creativity that once burned so brightly within me, and maybe even start other stories and share that same flame with you. Hope you enjoy.

I've been stuck in the United States for four months now due to the international Covid Shutdown.
Four months! One hundred and twenty days of utter isolation and near-torture. Thankfully, I have family here to keep me company, but there is only so much company they can give. Only so much. Loneliness was beginning to knock at my door, a different sort of loneliness, the loneliness of hardened nipples and starving lips, so I decided to go out into the streets of Philadelphia and see if I could get to meet women. I would have tried Tinder, but those ones tried to scam me, a gist for another day.

I woke up, did a little workout to get the blood flowing, had my bath, tried to smell nice and look clean. Not too clean, just clean enough. So here I find myself, on the streets of Philly, on the prowl, looking to meet women the old-fashioned way. I’m in my nonsense tank top on the way to the grocery store.

I eyed first babe just as soon as I entered the store, she’s picking vegetables in the food section. Clean shape inside tight jeans. My brain begin dey calculate. Every hunter knows the chances of failure are high. You're simply hoping the chances tilt in your favor small. She's picking things around, I'm following her sensibly at a respectable distance, fam, I even entered pampers section just to appear busy and not set her off.
Babe is walking about the store, hunter is walking about too. All I've been doing for weeks is reading, graphic art and programming. Hunter needs to make a move. I have starved for far too long to mess this chance up.

I need an opening to engage her, but I can't see any. She's always picking things and walking about too fast. Suddenly she's in line for checkout, she's slipping away. If I don't catch her before she checks out, I might miss this chance forever, she's next in line. I'm walking up to talk to her now; suddenly she walks to the check register. Damn! Plan don bash! Hunter has failed so soon. Or have I?
She turns to look at me, as if suspicious of my movement, I quickly pick something from one aisle as if that's what I wanted to buy, I try to blend into the surrounding. Camouflage, my fellow predators will know what I’m talking about.
I am determined, I've walked the length and breadth of this store, and I’ve seen no other babe that is up to her standard. So I'm suddenly standing in Apple Juice Aisle, while she's checking out. I'm standing right in front of American Apple Cidar but my eyeballs are twisted to the left, eyeing her with discretion.

See, one has to be careful with these Americans; they carry all sorts of weapons, ranging from simple pepper-spray to tasers to flat-out guns. I dey hunt for babe no mean say I wan chop bullet for Obodo. I don’t want to spook someone’s daughter now and next thing you know I end up in an ambulance.

She's opening her purse, paying for her items, packaging them. My heart is thumping, I'm touching apple juice to appear normal, but hunter is timing, hunter doesn't want apple juice, hunter doesn’t need apple juice. Suddenly, she carries her grocery bags and walks out the exit. This is my chance. Hunter quickly drops apple juice, walking swiftly but suavely, hot on her heels.

I dash out of the store after her, keeping a respectable distance between us still. She's in the parking lot, her car-keys in her right hand, I catch gaze of the keys, they look like the keys of an SUV. Damn! My mind is telling me, "Damn! This woman pass your level oo. See as her car-key fine". I'm like "Bleep it! Man gaz bold"

I get to her side; she's covered in facemask like me. I quickly say "Hello", she turns to me with a serious bold look in her eyes. My brain is having to think fast, unlike in Nigeria where I'd easily know what to say, here I'm like a fish out of water, I don't know the nuances of the pickup culture here, I don't exactly know how the women here relate to strange men.

And I also have that strong Nigerian accent that I'm sincerely not confident about. Many times, you have to repeat words to these people ‘cos of the accent. Pickups require quick lines that the woman can quickly get, not someone to keep asking you "Excuse me, what did you say?!"
I'm poorly dressed. I have no money here, no job, no car, I'm literally disadvantaged enough as it is. But man gaz bold.

I quickly say, "Oh! I saw you in the store and I thought you were quite pretty, so I just thought I'd come over and say hi, is that cool with you?"

She takes a second to reply, my mind dey calculate, I don’t exactly know how she’s taking it; I mean, let’s be honest, I just told a woman in full face-mask that I saw her and I think she’s pretty, really. This facemask culture is concealing, the entirety of a person’s face is communicative, especially women. What they do not say with their mouths, they say with their foreheads, their nose, and even the way they move and twist their lips. With a facemask, you’re forced to extrapolate from only just the eyes and the forehead, and try to discern from their tone, a dearth of information, really. She looks ahead as she's walking, then says "Alright, that's cool!".

Goal ball jorh!!
But I am struck, her accent is un-American, infact it is more similar to mine than it is to the Americans.
That's how I met Stephanie, a Ghanaian who just made her first Nigerian friend, me.
From there, I quickly carry on, all I need is opening, I sabi move the rest. She collects my number, which is quite fine with me. I bid her farewell as she enters her jeep and I run back to the store for round two, I need to see what else is in the river.

I'm already feeling a little happy for my round 1. But every hunter knows that you can't just get one babe, you need to get plenty, not because you're greedy, but because the chances of failure are quite high. If you go out and meet ten girls, mathematically speaking, only one or two will click. It’s no fault of yours; it’s just the way the system is. Some will just not like you, some will have other lovers, some will just be incompatible with you. Failure is the norm, success is the outstanding rarity. So the hunter needs to take more chances.

In the pampas section I see these two women, one is looking like a mother, she just has that weary look of a young mother shopping for her baby, the second person, her friend, Damn! She's petite like a girl I once dated, hot shape, tights on ass, wearing a crop top, has a navel ring, blue hair, beautiful pink nails, wearing these coloured dental-braces. I can even see the waist-beads. You can use waist-beads to thief my destiny, I swear. Wow! Inseminating! You see I know that those dental braces she’s wearing should already tell me she’s expensive af, but do I care? Nope! We still reach for it.
You know that in this life, sometimes it's good to shoot your shot beyond what you know you're capable of. It's like carrying a canoe and attempting to hunt a whale. But your madness can sometimes shock you.

This one is quite complicated, ‘cos she's with a friend. One woman is hard enough, when she's with a friend, it's much more difficult. Cos they'll be blocking each other, you'll have to get one when there's chance, and you must not be rude to the other. The babe you want to meet might want to keep up appearances for her friend, so she can easily ridicule you or turn you down. It's ten times harder, so I believe.

I enter pure water aisle, it is from there that I'm timing them. Hunter has his eye set, my brain dey calculate. I'm doing like I'm eyeing bottled water, like I'm reading the label. "This water is 100% pure!", the way I'm looking at the label, somebody will think I'm a health inspector.

Suddenly they go to beef aisle and I see small space between the two friends, they're both selecting packs of beef separately. The hunter leaps into action. I forget that I'm still holding a bottle of water, I walk to beef section and I'm still reading the water label. I quickly turn to her.

"Excuse me", I say, she turns to me and looks confused, she no even dey wear mask; masks have become mandatory in all the stores in America, everyone is wearing one except her, that should have clued me in that this one na agbero. I say "Hi", she replies "Hi" and suddenly walks away towards her other friend.

They're both saying some things to each other quickly in that Africa-American accent that I don't understand and they're laughing as they're saying it. I don't exactly know what they're saying. "They are laughing at you", my brain tells me. Hunter cannot be shamed. Na lie, they're not laughing at me, I assert to myself. Ginger! I remain there small, reading water bottle label in beef aisle, still eyeing them with corner eye.
I move to beef jerky aisle, I'm waiting for another chance. I blew the first one, her American accent and her cold reply blew me off, I was too weak, I didn't have the confidence to finish the job, I should have said something smarter, done something quicker. A hunter cannot afford to be so slow during the heat of the hunt. You seize it and do not let go.

My heart is pounding again as I'm waiting for another chance, suddenly she walks away from her friend to return something to the beef aisle. My chance, a hunter cannot lose twice, my ancestors will not allow it. I am from the bloodline of Sango, I must not fail. Ginger! I walk up to her, she sees me, I raise my right hand in saying hi, "Excuse me!", I say. Her eyes change, they flash red. Danger.
This one is bloody. In the crowded mall where Oyinbo choke left, right and center.

She sees me walking towards her, waving my hand and shouts out in that American accent with her fingers raised "No! Thank you!", before turning around to walk away.

Hunter has been publicly shamed. Retreat!! Retreat!!! Fall back!!! Enemy fire!! I repeat!! Enemy fire ooo!!! Hunter is being hunted. I think I can hear her friend laughing, I'm not sure. Everything is happening too fast, first thing is to find cover.

I'm back in beef jerky aisle, hiding, wondering why exactly I did not choose wisely. But I know that as a man you must sometimes go beyond.

I see babe that’s covered in expensive jewelry and I went to carry myself to public disgrace. With my jaga-jaga tank-top.

Thankfully, you cannot shame the shameless. At least, we do not remain ashamed for too long. I walk around the store a while more, trying to avoid Miss Petite all the while. This place is now dead, no more babes, the experience has sullen my mood. Perhaps, I try again tomorrow.
It takes a lot of confidence for someone like me to walk up to strange women, many of you won't believe me, but I know what I feel and go through.
I literally have to fight against a lot of things in my gut. Many other guys have it easier; some have it worse, of course.

But I know that on the other side of that fear is the possibility of some sort of friendship and companionship, so I try to move beyond the fear. Las las, the hunter cannot let fear impede him from the hunt. We wear our scars of public disgrace with pride.


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