Freewriting: Lagos is mad and we are all crazy.
“Madam I will deliver this to you on Wednesday at the latest”; says the elusive voice on the other line only know as Furniture Man.
And as you do, you hope but know deep down that furniture man will string you along, play you for a fool and remind you of all the empty promises that have been made in this city.
The sun sets and its Thursday.
The signs are beginning to show,
She calls and the voice is ever so faint
Confidence begins to wane, his voice a few decibels lower
A lot of grumbling on her end and comments on how he really shouldn’t test her, on how her crazy comes out when tested, on how he is looking for trouble and when he finds this thing/person/place he won’t be so thrilled.
Friday we get the voice, shriller a bit less coherent with loaded excuses
The dance begins, back and forth
Saturday she explodes
“Don’t you dare call my number until you deliver my goods.”
My mother is an actor and I her audience, we burst out laughing after she hangs up
Everything is normal once more.
She tells me that I need to be slightly crazy to deal with it all
He decides her outburst wasn’t enough and so he calls back and tries to match her tone
“I called you but you didn’t pick up an-”
“Don’t you dare lie to me I see no missed calls.”
Here I make my entrance, I’m called on to partake in this game
Her finger on the speaker button
His breath envelopes the whole room, you can see it and it feels hot
“Ada do you see any missed calls?”
“No”; I murmur whilst giggling
“Louder so he can hear”
She hangs up
He calls one last time a few minutes after
“I’m sorry Ma I thought I had called you but it seems like it was someone else”
She laughs; “Are you not crazy?
Aren’t we all.
And so it begins again tomorrow
The slow dance first according to the pianists hands.
then a little hastened till our feets are sore and his fingers are bleeding