The things I hear in cabs and buses in this city are enough to make me not want to buy a car. These modes of public transportation are a writer's dream.
So, I board this keke. There are three ladies at the back, soI have to sit in front with the driver. I'm one part terrified and one part excited. I hope I don't fall out.
The keke trundles along and the ladies behind are conversing. The topic, to my eternal consternation, soon turns Kanye West.
Lady 1: "Wetin dem say do am?"
Lady 2: "He was hospitalized....you know, because of stress."
Lady 1: "I hear that Kim wants to divorce him. These Kardashians sef. They just destroy all the men in their lives."
Lady 2: "No, she no go divorce am."
Lady 1: "If not for Black Chyna that saved Rob, he would have been like Kanye."
Lady 2: "The thing be like curse."
Lady 3: "That Black Chyna, I like her nyash. The thing just dey stand, but it looks soft."
Lady 1: "No oooo! I prefer Kim nyash. Have you seen her latest video? That her nyash just standa kpekem!"
"Lady 2: "No, I no like Kim nyash. It's fake. E be like dem carry cement block gum for her back. Black Chyna's nyash is better."
At this point, I can't help it anymore. I turn around and give them the once-over. They look to be in their thirties.
Recession.
Christmas.
Dollar rate.
High prices of food.
Family.
Work.
Harmattan.
MMM.
Boyfriend.
Husband.
Toaster.
An infinite number of relevant topics to discuss, and they chose the shapes, contours and textures of two women's behinds?
dusting my passport
Kenya, please I'm seeking asylum....
