Baba Rere

The setting is Baba Rere’s 5th living room- the one with the projector. This is where he hosts the individuals or groups who have come to pitch their start-up ideas to him. Baba Rere is an eccentric, wealthy man. He is known for sponsoring start-ups and SMEs as an angel investor- and generously too. However, this stroke of luck is a rarity indeed.

Today, Baba Rere is listening to Folarin’s pitch. Folarin is eager to impress, as he quotes the projected growth rate statistics. Suddenly, Baba Rere interrupts the presentation by coughing. Folarin begins to sweat. He was told by a couple of guys who had pitched to Baba Rere in the past that this coughing was a sign of bad news to come.

When Baba Rere sees that he has gotten Folarin’s attention, he speaks. “So, bọ̀bọ́, what did you say your name was again?”

“Folarin sah. Folarin Akinwale.”

“Isokay. Folarin. Good thing you didn’t call one yẹ̀yẹ́ nickname. Children of nowadays want to use nicknames for everything.” Baba Rere rambles on for a bit before coming back to the point. Folarin’s heart continues to beat fast.

“So, ehen. I have heard all your grammar o, and I just have one question to ask you.”

“Ah, sah. You could have stopped me at any point during the presentation to ask me the question.”

“No, no. Isokay. I can see that you are a bright chap. Gbogbo statistics to quote fún mi shows that ọpọlọ ẹ pẹ́. And my question is a very simple question. No need for grammar.”

“Ah, okay sah. Please what is the question?”

“How much is it that you really need? For this your tech business?”

Folarin halts, dumbfounded.

“Àbí you didn’t hear me ni-I said, how much do you need? Ṣebí you have been speaking all this grammar since morning, sweating under AC, telling me about forecasts and feasibility. I have kúkú been listening to you. Now I ask you, wobí, how much do you want me to give you?”

“Erm, sah, you know- erm. Ah, sah, let me just write it. It is too heavy for my mouth to say,” Folarin stutters.

He then tears a sheet of paper quickly to scribble down a figure and promptly hands the piece of paper to Baba Rere.

Baba Rere replies, “Orhhh, chicken change. Come to my office tomorrow. 10am. I will write the cheque.”

Folarin prostrates for the umpteenth time, his “Ah, thank you very much sah. Thank you sah” repeated every couple of minutes.

“Ehen. When you get out, tell the others waiting outside to come back next week. I am going to play golf jàre.”