A Night-Time Story at the NigeriaVillageSquare
By WayoGuy
Steve and Chioma met as students at
New York
State
University and fell madly in
love with each other. He was white and she was Nigerian. When they made
love, she liked to talk trash and he loved it. On the day following
their graduation, he saw her off at the Airport as she left for
Nigeria, kissed her goodbye, and promised to come to
Nigeria to meet her parents – a Yoruba father and an Igbo mother. She eagerly awaited his visit.
A month later, Steve finally went on a surprise visit to
Nigeria. As the taxi drove him from the airport to his overnight hotel, he saw, along Airport Road, several roadside buildings
with signs that read “Easy Yoruba Lessons for Tourists” “Learn
Conversational Igbo”; and “Hausa Made Easy in Ten Minutes or Less”.
Wishing to surprise his fiancée with a few Igbo and Yoruba words, he
stopped the taxi and went into one of the buildings for a quick
tutorial.
Steve told the school teacher he was in
Nigeria to meet his
girlfriend who liked to talk in trashy language in the bedroom and that
he needed Igbo translations of some choice bedroom trash talks. The
teacher, very happy to collect some dollars, was effusively jovial and
generous with his teaching: quicker, quicker (osiso, osiso); I am on my way oo (a na m abia oo); I want it, I want it (a choro m ya, achoro m ya); you are a real man (nwoke ka I bu); please, please , please (biko, biko, biko); what is my name? (gini bu aha m?); go on, go on, go on (na aga, na aga, na aga). The teacher happily suggested additional trashy language to Steve’s delight.
“And
don’t forget this”, said the school teacher, “you must prostrate fully
and facedown when you meet her father. Don’t get up until you are told
to get up. Now, go and get that girl!”
The next day, Steve took a taxi from his hotel to meet his fiancée at her parents’ home in
Lagos. Extremely excited by the
surprise, Chioma entertained Steve and while they waited for her father
and mother to come home from work. Then a knock at the door! Chioma’s
father walked in.
Before
Chioma could introduce her father to Steve, Steve was already prostrate
on the carpet, face down. One minute. Two minutes. Three, Four, Five
minutes later, Steve was still on the floor, face down.
Finally,
Chioma knelt down beside him and whispered “Steve, you can get up now,
you are overdoing it. Who taught you to prostrate?”
Steve responded “Chioma, I can’t get up. I really can’t. Why didn’t you tell me that your father is a school teacher?!”
Reactions of Villagers:
Dr. Damages:
What a chicken liver you are, Wayo Guy. Yes, I am the doctor who does
only damages. You get problem with that? Next time, tell us a funny
story or get out of the village; this one is not funny.
Denker: WayoGuy nwanna, I am disappointed. Stop digging your own grave and choose your topic carefully. This is my last warning.
Jah Guda: tastless story. It is like eating eba and egussi without meat.; where the beef dey?:rolleyes:
ILN TOO: I feel like strangling myself for being foolish enough to read the whole story. This is a pointless waste of time!).
WayoGuy: I join the villagers who have commented in registering my disappointment. This is my last warning to myself. This
is a completely ill-informed, pointless and unintelligent story full of
holes, inconsistencies, immorality, bribery and corruption, nepotism,
cacophony, ethnic irredentism, religious intolerance and male
chauvinist attitudes. It is certainly not fit for publication in the
Nigerian Village Square.
Anonymous: There should be a law against telling meaningless stories like this.
Vade Mecum: Wayo, you need to be delivered from your compulsion for telling non-religious stories. The sacred gates of my
Interdenominational
Church are open to sinners
like you. Repent and seek ye the forgiveness of the Holy One and be
delivered from your salacious stories. There is still time. In fact, if I was the Admin, I would take this story,
fling it into the Dumpster and lock the Dumpster with a big iron
padlock. Then to make doubly sure this story never saw the light of
day, I would take the Dumpster and fling it into an even bigger
Dumpster of Dumpsters, and lock that with another iron padlock.
Nonsense!
Aneyetonto: I know that I am only a JJC. But for God's sake what kind of story is dis, so lengthy and full of rubbish.
And
why is it dat everybody writing articles in this village square must
want to display his grammatical eloquence. must i open village square
on the net and as well carry funks and Wagnall or Webster’s dictionary
with me. and can someone pls explain 2 me wat this story is all about
RUBBISHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!
Aneyetonto.
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