Diary of a Mad Warri Woman

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Diary Of A Mad Warri Woman. Episode 1

I cannot remember where I was born or lived before now, I tried to foraged deep into my mind for my past, but the intense heat and rays from the scorching sun spooked me out of my rummaging and everything around was different, old, odd and disturbing.
Perplexed I was. I was having an out of body experience and I could not do anything.
Gently, I picked myself up from the heavy trash; I found myself and chewed the meat on my left hand.
Hmmm, this taste nice, I said to myself like a ninny having fun, as I continued devouring the pieces of chicken in my hand and scratching my head overgrown with scattered and unkept hair, only God knows where I got this meat from. I need a liquid to wash down the grounded cuds in my system…Water.
“Give me water,” I shouted at the man sitting at a shop a few walks from the dump-site, because I was not comfortable with their boring eyes looking towards my chest region…and the advanced man among them looked with pity, but the young men there looked with interest and lust.
Give me water I assertively said. the men did not flicker a bit.
“What are you looking at? Oh, my breast (as I cupped my soft round buxom breast) you want to suck…are you a baby? Huuhuu, shameless boys,”

I went close and snatched the water from the advance man who didn’t resist me.
I drank the water and walked away in blissful ignorance.
I noticed that people were looking at me, some with lust, some with desires, some with pity and remorse as I made my way to the main tarred road.
The noise, the hot northern sun now in the south, three legged moving machine amazed me, most especially the way the drivers had to adjust when he’s sitting with someone in the front. I burst into laughter.
I saw some unshirted boys with funny looking torso and shorts dropping down from their waist hanging onto the doors of blue and white painted buses and shouting “along, along, okere market, garage, Hausa quarter, You dey go?” They asked as they beckon at any passerby who exchanged any glance at them, some entered their buses while some walked past…then I walked to one of the bus,
Who be this one?
You sure say you dey craze?
”Kor-moni fly komot from here? Abi, dem tell you say Uduaghan bus dey carry mad woman? Get out from here…and I was shoved away.”

Words rushed into my head and images were born out of these bullet coated words, as I continued my walk along the road.
Craze, Uduaghan, Mad woman…I’m I mad? “I’m insane?”  What is the difference between me and these unshirted boys who precluded me from entering these buses?  (I pointed at a slowing bus)
These boys are shouting like demented men while I am smiling like a ninnny.
They are without shirts, just shorts in a daredevil combat to stay on their waist, and me wearing skirt, plus my skirt is not falling off my waist.

I am a loner enjoying the ride I am getting from my feet and they are not sitting inside the buses but hanging onto it as if they are chasing them out of it.
They are looking tattered and dirty so am I…so do you see any difference? I Guess I am really mad, because I am actually asking myself these questions.
What is a car supposed to do on the road? Stay behind each other in a single file and the drivers shouting at each other, under the scorching sun? While the leg users like me, zoom past them?

The road was so rowdy, fumes from bumped up vehicles perfumed the ether, tempers flared,  argument ensued, the road was jam…uncontrollable traffic jam…now the cars are stucked no coming and going, this is a traffic catastrophy…

“You know go carry your Kabukabu commot there?”

“Na ur Caravan be kabukabu, for your mind na jeep you enter? See your bend head like ur mind, carry that ekpetiughe commot there… Olibonfu.”

The arguments, quarrels and traffic warden job, these unshirted boys (learnt they are called conductors) tried doing, produced no result. In Few minutes time, I was at Hausa quarter; I said to myself I think this is the foundation of this hold up,
“HOW DO I GET THIS ANGRY MAD PEOPLE OUT OF THIS TRAFFIC JAM?”   I asked myself, as far as am concerned,  none of them is doing enough to clear the road just selfishly trying to maneuver their way, thereby causing more traffic jam.
The cars were moving at snail speed and the situation was not getting any better.  With the speed of a space shuttle I got to Hausa quarter from garage, I was shocked to see that Lorries where parked at both side discharging loads, and policemen and traffic wardens where in their booths drinking sachet water and having a quiet chat.

Angry I was, I walked to the policemen, and screamed at them, “you are all good for nothing, see hold up and you doing nothing about it, drinking water.”

“See this mad woman oo, comm’on gerrout of this place.
“Na you wan teach us our job? Abeg craze dey go.” (What can I do to these unrighteous public servants, I said to myself biting my index finger…Ummm)
I picked a bowl of dirty water and poured at them and they ran away, hmmm
“Hey, Ehen, na so,” the market women cheered me on, I was motivated.
“Una sit down there dey collect money, see hold up,” one of the market women said,
In anger one of the police men brought out a whip… and rushed towards my direction to use it on me…
Oh that’s right a sane policeman wanting to flog an unshirted mad young woman, who’s mad?
I went close to him and screamed at him “do something about the go slow, flog if that will be the solution,” his colleague held him back, oh at least someone is sane here, was it because he was sane or the fear of the rugged looking army men that was coming from both directions flogging and bulldozing everyone on the roads.
I find this puerile, as I turned on the market women whose wares were on the tarred road both left and right, I threw away the trays and whatever that was on the road, none dared to react because they knew they were wrong, the long vehicles that was on both side, their drivers took good bulala from the mobile men and as they entered their truck and drove into nearby gasoline stations to discharge their goods.
In less than twenty minutes of doing the right thing, the road was free, smiles returned, the road was cleared, buses with their conductors moved freely and the market women went to their shops to sell their goods.
The joy that came with doing something good made me laugh out aloud to myself as I walked away…Was that why I am laughing or I’m laughing because I am the insane sane mad warri woman?

waffarian

Admin, @WarriUpdate

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