The first day I entered into Shoprite was in September 2013 or thereabout.
I can never forget that day in my entire life.
I know you are thinking that I embarrassed my big head on that their escalator or lift😊😊😊
You are very wrong. God did not shame me. This life only shamed the old woman Ogbomoso blood in me.
I entered the escalator like an ancestor coming to the city for her first daughter’s omugwo. It was such an interesting sight that if I can retrieve the video from their CCTV in Shoprite, it will stay among the top 3 hilarious videos on instablog and Kraks TV.
Now back to the main story that prompted this post, the nonsense guy I went to honour with my ancestorial presence turned out to be a goat.
As his own idea of compliment, he said I looked better in pictures than in real life. At first when I heard that, my head did horizontal and vertical gbaaaaauunnnnn gbauuuuun but my home training didn’t allow a mere compliment to deter me from the glory ahead.
We entered Shoprite and started strolling round admiring the buckets and kitchen towels on display.
Anytime I attempted to enter the food or bakery section, the uncle will stylishly divert my attention to their bookshop session where maps, dictionary and pencils are sold.
He will be like Abigael
Chaiiiii…these books look like C Ronaldo.
This battery looks like the tongue of Didier Drogba.
The bucket reminded him of his favourite colour.
The apron of the cashiers reminded him of the blood of Jesus.
I was mad at him but I didn’t want to fall my reputation because of the mutual friend that connected us.
I almost lost my temperament and temperature only once when I started perceiving one periodical pungent smell that was competing with the worms in my stomach.
It turned out that uncle had the guts to be messing up and down like he ate emergency rotten okpa mixed with under cooked chicken offspring that can send someone to the great beyond.
At first, I was using my purse to cover my nose. I kept smiling like I was excited to be in his majestic messing presence while squeezing my face with the kinda look a Yoruba mother will give her child that wants to collect food from the devil’s hand.
When Abby the potential mother of Zion could no longer stand the improved frequency of the mess, I told him that he should excuse me to use the restroom while he keeps admiring the glass cups and other bathroom items on the shelves.
I even told him not to move from that spot oooo, so that I can easily locate him to continue the heart warming discussion.
He said okay and I walked off majestically with my Mummy GO skirt sweeping the ground accompanied by my Dally Yaki weavon that my hairstylist divided the way Moses divided the red sea.
I stylishly entered the sea food section, bought plenty Calamari looking fish and chicken, a large plate of sea food paella rice and hot Shoprite bread.
On my way to the cash point, I picked Hollandia yoghurt, bottle water and cold coke from the fridge to cool down my boiling anger.
Like a queen that my mother raised well, I paid for the things I bought with my vexation money that I had in my purse.
When I was done, I walked hurriedly outside the mall like someone was pursuing me and entered a drop back to my humble room in the university of Ibadan.
While in the car, I blacklisted his number and blocked his messing yansh from my 2go list.
How can the gender that betrayed Jesus waste my precious time or stress whom God has not marked for untimely explosion through atomic bomb from Okpa?
This is the reason I always have my vex money that can buy the whole eatery when I go on a date. Experience has humbled me when I was active in the dating game.
I will definitely miss Shoprite and their yellow nylon now if they ever decide to leave Nigeria.