My boyfriend; the pink lipped guy you try so hard to avoid.
Have you ever been to Ikeja Along? That place with the bridge and the rail track where 1 train carrying at least 500,000 people runs through. I shit you not: 500,000 is not an exaggerated figure. They sit on, in, by, with (insert any other adjective that qualifies being on the train). They occupy every damn space. The trains look like they must be feeling: rickety, worn out, butted out, exhausted.
The yellow coat that I’m guessing was never new and beautiful looks like spirogyra yellow (I don’t know if that exists, but as disgusting as spirogyra yellow would look if it was a real thing.) There are no windows too, because people NEED seats duh.
Whenever, I pass through the beauty that is Ikeja Along, I always want to take pictures and share with my very little Instagram followers who could give three shits anyway, open them up to the beauty of the traders on the rail who do not make their wares heavy so when a train is coming it’s faster and easier to move at once.
Or the KAI truck situated right after the rail, always haggling with different people. I want to do this, but then I remember that this is the same spot where they stole my phone a while ago and it occurs to me that they’ll be fine.
Right after Ikeja Along comes computer village. The Silicon Valley of Nigeria, yes Silicon Valley! Damn you with your eye rolling and conceit disguised as concern. That’s our Silicon Valley and we are proud.
Anyways, Silicon Valley is about 8 minutes from Ikeja along, during this walk, you see various traders, various phone kiosks and one marketing strategy I’ve always wondered about its effectiveness. This is how it works. A company hires dancers, prints its logo and name on t shirts. These dancers then wear these t shirts and display their not so God given talents on the road whilst you’re on your way to computer village or wherever. Some are really good, you could get distracted for about 15 seconds, some even stop to watch, depends on how busy you are really.
And lastly on the list of distractions on your way to computer village lie the Pink lipped, dreaded men. You know, them ones shouting “pink lips, pink lips, sister, pink lips, hips enlargement, breast enlargements, nipple piercing” they’re usually holding a tiny white container, trying to shove it in your face. They’re there every single day, at every single time, trying to sell this product. They’re the weird looking guys, with pale looking, pink lips. Yes. That’s the product.
Hey, if you’re tryna get your Trey Songs on with pink lips and a huge dick, holla, I can hook you up with my boyfriend.
You can’t ask the writer how she knows Trey Songs has a big D.
Respect the writer-reader boundary please.
So, on this faithful day, I’m walking, past the KAI Truck, past the hawkers, I even stopped to watch the marketing dancers this time. They were playing a song I liked, I even put it up on Snapchat (this part of Ikeja Along is less deadly). Here i am, posting the video, trying to decide on the right filter, to put it with the audio or not? You know, regular Snapchat indecision; when I notice one of “them” holding the plastic staring into my phone with me.
He notices I’ve noticed and I notice he’s smiling with his not so nasty pink lips, his is manageable (maybe he just started the treatment). So we’re standing there, noticing each other when he finally speaks. He speaks to the part he must assume I have a problem with:
“Sister, breast enlargement “?