‘’NO BE BY FORCE TO WEAR PANT FOR ASABA!




I won’t die in Asaba. This I know for sure. I only came here to obey the clarion call with dedication and selflessness. But with some of the extremely weird experiences I have actually gone through, I can only pray to come out of here in one piece. Just the other day in my area, a lady was stripped naked inside a market by a woman and to my greatest surprise she wasn’t wearing any pant!
In Asaba, there is no law that states that everybody must wear pant. I have come to realize that it is not even a norm. It is actually a personal obligation. A good number of ladies are uncomfortable with the idea of wearing pant. Don’t even think of preaching to them, because they might slap you!
Two days ago, I had gone to hang out with my friend at his neighbourhood only to witness the shock of my life. A young lady had gone to the market to buy iced fish. She was wearing a very short shirt that almost revealed her butt. Adorned with a gold necklace and a nose ring, she cat-walked towards the fish seller. One thing led to another and before I knew what was happening, they had started quarrelling.
‘Why e be say your fish dey always dey expensive?’ the young lady asked lifting the fish in the air.
‘No be force to buy from my hand na, If my own too expensive, go another place go buy’ the madam who sold the fish responded.
‘Make una dey fear God for this una business’ the young girl advised as the fish slipped from her hands and landed in the mud. And that was where all hell broke loose.
‘Shey I tell you say make you carry your wahala go another place abi?’ the woman thundered grabbing the lady by the neck and shaking her head. ‘Oya pick my fish go wash am now now!’ she barked. But the young girl was more concerned about her necklace and as she struggled to remove the woman’s hand from her neck, she realized that her gold necklace had been broken in the process. She had managed to grab it before it landed in the mud.
‘You no go pick my fish?’ The woman barked in anger. The lady turned around in an attempt to walk away and that was when the woman got really infuriated. ‘Pick my fish go wash am or you pay me the money’ the fish seller shouted as she held her clothes.
‘Madam you go first pay for this gold wey you just cut and I no go fit bend down pick your fish, na short skirt I wear’ the young girl responded as she struggled with the woman.
Wetin concern me with wetin you wear? Na me tell you make you wear this kind skirt? If you like dey waka naked you must pick my fish.’ The woman thundered as she gave the girl a dirty slap and dragged the lady’s skirt up to the viewing pleasure of the crowd who had gathered around the scene. And that was it – unadulterated buttocks in all its glory, no tight, no pant, no G-string, just natural buttocks inside Asaba market!
That day, for the very first time, I sensed that my service year was finally coming to an end and of course, I had completed my task in Asaba and I needed to go somewhere else before I die.
Funny enough, the young girl wasn’t ashamed at all. She didn’t put up a fight. She dragged her skimpy skirt down, went back home, changed her clothes and put on more decent ones and in less than an hour time, she was back inside the market but this time, with a truck of policemen. They bundled the fish seller inside the van and as they headed back to the police station, I overheard a policeman shouting at the woman ‘No be by force to wear pant for Asaba oo!’ ‘Moreover, if some of una wan do the tin, no be fling una dey fling pant comot?’ Another policeman inquired sarcastically.

Make I continue

THE DAY ASABA RAIN TAUGHT ME THE LESSON OF MY LIFE.





Asaba rain taught me a lesson I would never forget in my whole life and I learnt a great deal from this bitter experience. It happened on a Wednesday which happened to be my CDS day. We had rounded up the never-ending meeting which was marred with arguments and verbal disputes from various topics ranging from Anambra politics, Hushpuppy and his Gucci boxers to relationship wahala. I was already exhausted but I needed to rush down to the famous
Ogbogonogo market to get beans. I had borrowed two thousand naira from my neighbour Kunle that morning as the monthly stipend was taking longer than necessary to come. Although we were both corpers, there was no doubt that kunle was earning more money than me. He was an electrician, a barber, a tailor and on top of it all, supported his ministry with Bet9ja. He always had some change to lend me whenever my wallet started to frown. Only God knows how I would have survived in Asaba if not for Kunle.
I waved a ‘keke ’ and entered. ‘Ogbogonogo ’ I said.
‘Corper shun!’ the driver, a stout-looking man with pot-belly exclaimed merrily with smiles as he nodded his head. I smiled back immediately in acknowledgement. Apart from ‘Corper doh’, the phrase I had heard the most in Asaba was ‘Corper shun!’
‘I remember when I dey serve’ He began as the tricycle meandered its ways towards Nnebisi road. ‘That time eh, I go starch my khaki, e go just stand kpagammmm !’ I think say na there this world finish, na wen service end, na dat time I realize say omoh dis life no easy at all.’ He said
“Where you serve?” I quickly inquired. “Na Abia state na. Na we run Aba as at 2014.” He continued. “Guy forget oo, this life wey you dey see like dis, dis life deep oo”.
I wasn’t suprised. The reality of the failed system had made me to look beyond the fact that a graduate of Business Administration was driving “keke”. I thought about the millions of graduates sitting at home and earning zero naira every month. The situation is so unfortunate and there is nothing I can do, even me wey dey write never chop sef”
I had barely reached Ogbogonogo market when it started to drizzle. I had come to dislike the rain in Asaba for two main reasons: It comes without warning and falls without stopping. I alighted from the keke and entered a food item shop. To my astonishment, beans had suddenly added price. Just a month ago,I had bought a painter of beans for 1500 naira.
“Na 1600, No oo oga na the price be dat, everything don add money” The dark Igbo trader said to me with all the certainty he could muster.
“I no be Oga abeg. Na corper I be, reduce price for me abeg” I pleaded with him removing my cap in a show of respect.
” You be Oga oo” he insisted. “No be una dey chop federal government money?”
At this point, I sensed there was no need wasting my time with the man. I gave him the 2000 naira and collected my 400 naira change and disappeared.
Now the rain was getting serious. I needed to get into a keke before it became real. I stood along the road and started to wave at them. “Infant Jesus” I screamed. None of the drivers looked at my face. The few that manage look, frowned upon hearing my destination. They must have thought that this corper wasnt serious. My khaki was getting soaked already and my beans was also helpless inside the nylon bag. It was when the rain started to gain momentum, that I realized that I was in big trouble.
Fortunately, just like a lake in the desert, a “keke” stopped. But there were three passengers seated at the back already. I managed to squeeze myself with the driver as I struggled with my beans. Sitting at the front of the keke meant two things: I would not be comfortable throughout the pot-hole-ridden journey and the rain will deal with me. And indeed the rain dealt with me mercilessly. Little did I know that the rain that was falling at Ogbogonogo market was a child’s play compared to the one falling at Infant Jesus. Before I could alight, I was drenched to my boxers. At this point, my khaki was like a skin on top of my skin. I was shivering and the rain cared less. It increased and beat me even more. My beans was already soaked completely. Poor beans! I was already contemplating on how I would dry my beans in the sun at home when the worst happened.
The keke had stopped just beside the gutter and I needed to jump over it to get under a shade and wait for the rain to stop. As I lifted my feet to cross, the slippery mud drew me down and I landed on my buttocks. A big portion of my beans poured inside the gutter while the rest mixed with the mud. I was devastated. I had bruised my arm in the process.
“ Eyaah Corper sorry” the few people who cared said to me as I was lifted up. The rest looked away. They obviously had bigger problems to think about. I waited for almost two hours before going home that day. With the mud on my khaki, some children in the neighbourhood thought I was a mad corper. That night I cried myself to sleep as I cursed the gods that brought me to Asaba!!

Jungpablo:



guy cor finish Wetin yu start Abeg I take all the witch for my village take beg yu.

OK SIR.. I GO FINISH AM

Jungpablo:



yu ehn

What I do na?