TAM (That Awkward Moment)
Many faces wear this countenance at owambe where food is unnecessarily delayed. (credit: social media)
Durojaiye was the first to arrive at the reception hall and 25 minutes later a pretty lady had joined him and 10 minutes passed before people began to arrive in twos and threes … and before long the whole facility was filled to the brim.
Durojaiye had lent one of his friends money and a family member and while one promised to refund in 3 days the other said 3 weeks but both failed due to circumstances beyond their control. And so Durojaiye became helpless. Lender turning to borrower.
He decided to borrow money from his friends but they were ‘rich’ and so couldn’t help him. And Durojaiye became broke, matter-of-factly his ‘broke’ could break and even set a new record of cash-strapped people in his socioeconomic class.
When a man or woman is broke (s)he exhibits some behaviours to cope and since Durojaiye couldn’t fuel his car he couldn’t attend the church service and so he opted for reception which is just about 1km from his home. He trekked and felt jolly good knowing full well that he’ll eat and enjoy party jollof rice.
Fast forward to item 7. The first server had approached Durojaiye’s table and as she was dropping the rice in front of Durojaiye the usher signaled to her to take the food to the front row and start from there.
And the water welling and jumping in Durojaiye’s mouth suddenly became sad and subsequently withdrew into its cocoon. One female server later approached Durojaiye and told him not to accept jollof but fried rice because the latter had two pieces of meat unlike the former which uploaded just one.
Durojaiye nodded in affirmation and felt ‘Yes this babe is a bae; she truly knows my class and worth and honestly speaking I deserve 3 or 4 meats NOT even 2.’
Not long after, jollof rice finished, same with fried. Amala ran out of gas; pounded yam slumped and died same with semo and before you say hunger Durojaiye knew he was in big trouble but kept forming till he knew that hunger is no respecter of gender, class, creed or whatever.
He became a scanner. And so he got up and began to scan for the server who misled him into the territory of hunger and anger, but couldn’t find her so he went back to the hall but hey his chair had disappeared. His blood boiled and he suffered indignation.
With red hot eyes and face which became distributor of anger Durojaiye searched for the intruder, usurper but couldn’t find and as he was thinking of his next moves a man in snow-white agbada approached a server and pointed to Durojaiye and with the loudest voice ever he opened up, “See, that man got to the hall before anyone of us yet all of us had kept your food in our tummies …. Please don’t discriminate here; no one is a nobody … if you feel he lives in a room and palour today he could have ten duplexes tomorrow!” The last straw.
At this juncture Durojaiye realized hunger and anger were the very best things to happen to him at the event and now the worst had come. His eyes wanted to run inside his brains; his hands wanted to cover his face to hide his shame, cover his name, conceal his embarrassment. He began to sweat, no he felt he was sweating … his face became hell and was burning him atrociously.
And Durojaiye prayed for earthquake to come into the hall – to swallow no other but him. He couldn’t walk away from the same spot and his legs became heavier than rocks. He felt ‘what a devil who might feel he was an angel. Alas an audacious and insensitive man’.
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