Valentine Wahala

She was flashy as the red car she just got out from. She had this Brazilian hair beautifully fixed on her head, spirited in her colorful hand-knitted dress and grinning from side to side. She must be on her way to see the National Lottery Chairman for her claim or she must have heard more pleasant news than that, because perching across the street from where I was observing every movement within my periphery, nothing could have influenced such a gay behavior.

She locked the door from a distance by the help of the remote door locker as she walked care freely into the aluminium door that already gave way as she approached. Everything is now automatic and all you have to do is afford some and revele in an automated world which is usually not a world that is far from those living the manual life. They almost always queue up for everything; Queue up for waakye in the morning, queue for trotro to their various work places to make a living, queue up to elect Presidents, who won’t even fete for them and they seem used to it, looking at the simplicity and flair that characterizes their movements.

The flashy lady whom I’ll choose to name Araba in the context of this write-up, quickly came out as she entered, even with a gaiety that surpassed the one before, except this time, she was seen out by one handsome man in a neatly and starchy cream linen shirt with a matching coffee khaki trousers that has been ironed to remind you of those inspection Mondays in basic schools. They both were giggling and slapping each other’s back as if they were school children. One look at them could tell you the kind of relationship they share but I wasn’t ready for that hasty conclusion. I just fathomed, they probably might have done it before, but as to if they really are lovers or not, experience has taught me to desist from the practice of pairing happy people together just because I deem them fit.

I just looked on absent-mindedly for them to do whatever they had to do before the woman leaves for wherever she was headed to, after all I wasn’t there because of them. I was there because I was planning to execute a plan. It was valentine day and I needed an alibi to escape the entire craze in town. I was even tired of the cacophony of noises that was emanating from the Radio, Television and the die-hards who would celebrate everything that has a day earmarked for it. They are the same people who celebrate AU day, world Stigmatization day, world hand-shake day and all the nonsense days. 

The woman entered her car after planting an affectionate kiss on the man’s cheek which lighted his world from the glow that radiated from his face coupled with the rise of his cheek bones. Love is sweet I thought and reverted back to my own thoughts. 

Life is how you make it and living to suit someone does not really help me live my life so I decided to live my life no matter how the road looks uncharted. the experiences, the suspense, the setbacks, the expectations, the accompanying thrills and mostly, the results of our actions are those that come to thicken life’s plot, so I don’t see why I have to give all up to walk in someone’s shadow. i decided I was not going to be in the fray of those making baloney of what life ought to be and before I knew it, another car had come to park at the same spot the flashy red car took off from. My eyes dilated at the make of the car but it was to be more spectacular.

A beautiful svelte lady opened the door of the car and I thought I felt the trapped air-conditioned air hit my face because I felt my skin turn cold. It felt good but that was all there was to it. She stretched out one of her long legs and placed it on the ground, quickly followed by the second one, dramatic, right? She was now out of the car and what a sight to behold. Whoever said beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder must either revise his notes or we better make an amendment to that phrase. Some beauty transcends the eyes of the beholder and right there before me was one of the title holders.

She walked graciously and purposefully towards the aluminium door and my feelings told me, it was the same man. I did not envy him at all because apart from hosting all these beautiful women, I don’t know what else he does and does not know how much dues he pays to sustain these awesome ladies, so I just looked on. My plan was still intact in my mind as I kept tossing it. I knew I was not going to get anything nouvelle from my thoughts but it was worth trying.

This time, the woman stayed much longer than the first one and by her sweet nature and cocksure gaiety, I knew she was the one. If she wasn’t the one, why stay longer? The man must have a bunk bed in that room or better still writing desks in this era are not just big for aesthetic purposes, they could be used for many other purposes. I didn’t want to even go there because it was a long time I enjoyed something like that. I quickly conjured some images of my prolific hey days where I could host them like I was a consultant.

 

Before I knew it, I was jolted back into reality as the hitherto vivacious woman stormed out of the office leaving the door to bang behind, followed by the man who was trying to catch up with her brisk walk. Obviously, she was mad; she was very mad at something I was yet to know but the man was disturbed. His world is crashing I guess. My heart could only go out to him but I was quickly reminded by the plan I was fine-tuning in my mind. That was enough to make me mind my own business.

The svelte lady went straight to open her car door which was blocked by the man, but the man would not allow her to open it. The man wanted them to settle whatever difference they had before she left the premises but I was to learn that there was no difference to be settled. Apparently, the man was using a jug and his jug is now full and overflowing. He’s been caught. Yes, caught red-handed. 

Araba had smeared kisses all over his face and at the tip of his shirt color which the svelte lady found out, as they got rollicking in the office.

 ‘As3m aba’ in Kojokrom….