Happy new year people! Work don start oooo, no more end of year break, banger, fireworks, free food ati gbogbo ounje ati ere. I hope I got that right. Don’t fret, it will be alright. I have prayed for all of you, this year, your levels will change for the better, soteey it will be like a dream sef. Can I hear an Amen? Here’s a lovely dose of Monday humor to get your engine running.
I’m going to take you on a trip in a time machine, eight years back into time. Once upon a time, yours truly used to wear a blue and white uniform and shuttle to and from school everyday. Like most kids of my time, we had house chores to complete every morning before going to school. I like to believe that the housework was on another level in my home, as I have five younger siblings whom I shared the work of catering to them every morning together with Kembu, my older sister. They were much younger at this time, so morning chores included cleaning our room, bathing the little ones, preparing breakfast, dressing them for school, and finally taking them to school before going in your own direction. Ahhh! One of the joys of a large family (said no one ever).
It happened this morning that many things went wrong: you know, one of those days when you can’t seem to get anything right, right? It was past 7 am already and we were still not done with chores. Every one was running helter skelter in the chaos we have all come to associate with dressing up for school, amid shouts of “Where is the second leg of my stockings?”, or “I can’t find my homework!”, you get the picture. I was frantic, nothing was finished yet. I had swept the room and packed the dirt into the dustpan and kept it in one corner of the room, hoping to take it out later. Mother came in to inspect and saw the chaos. While helping out here and there, getting things done very swiftly, she zoomed in on the dustpan parked by the corner and paused: “Chibugo, let me not see that dirt there in the next five minutes or you will see what I will do”. This is usually a warning that if you don’t do what you are told, OYO is your case. I ran to get the dirt out, and remembered that I hadn’t combed Kano’s hair, so I dashed back and after combing his hair, forgot what it was I wanted to do.
Eventually, we were all set. We would be late, but then, nothing could be done about that. Off we went on our merry way to school. On the bus, I remembered what it was I forgot. The dustpan and its contents lay forgotten in the room. I cringed at the inevitable ear-pull I would receive for this silliness when I got home after school. Why was I so forgetful sef? Anyway, that was that. I still had almost eight hours before then. I got to school and made it into class with minimal wahala. There was a tough math assignment I had managed to solve the day before, and immediately I got into class, those who hadn’t done theirs swarmed around me, asking for mine. We would be having maths in the first period, so no time. After initial gra-gra, I agreed to give it to them and opened my bag with a flourish. By now you may be able to guess the sight that greeted me: The dirt from our room, well distributed all over the contents of my school bag! *sobs* Yeah, mother was(still is) a tough soldier like that. You don’t mess with your responsibilities around here! That I didn’t cry that day from embarrassment remains a miracle to me. E pain me well well, make I no lie. After all my shakara. Chai! Issorai. Mother and I still share this joke and laugh ourselves to stupor over it each time. The story never gets old.
I hope the story above made you laugh off life’s stress. A reader suggested I request other readers to contribute stories to the Monday Humor column, to enable some variety. I quite agree. So if you have funny personal stories you would like to share, do send it in an email to firstname.lastname@example.org.
Have a great week, amigos!
Like the bee, we should make our industry our amusement – Oliver Goldsmith
90s chick; nerd, humanitarian; lover of life, family, fashion, food, art and literature; Christian by birth and choice. In short, I’m like jollof rice: you’re gonna love me. 😉