June 23rd, 2014
There are 365 days in a year, divided into 12 whole months oh! As if not enough, there are 24 hours of the day and 7 days in a week!!! Why did it have to be at that very Year-Month-Week-Hour and second that toothpick and I had to stand at the same spot, seeking exactly the same cab?
If only I had known, I would have left the cab for her to take.
ko gbe oshi e ko ma lo
I would have just pretentiously smiled and wished her a good day or something. Anything but this mess I’m in.
Should I deny or accept that indeed She knew me? Do I insist on having an imaginary violent identical twin sister to blame the unfortunate incident on? Do I claim to be schizophrenic- Of course she wouldn’t fall for that!
Ma’am I was Joking earlier
She definitely won’t fall for that. I seriously doubt she can be as stupid as she’s thin. A million thoughts swept through my head at that split-second as her ‘question-like statement’ still hung in the air of the room; suspended, as Toothpick and the whole audience stared at me, eagerly awaiting my response.
My voluble gregarious self vapourized into thin air, leaving a stammering mess whose hands quivered more than an epileptic having violent seizures. Toothpick was winning this ‘war of nerves’! I suddenly felt weepy as I could feel the sense of defeat welling up within me, consuming my pride indiscrimnately like a wrap of gala. This was it. No mother Earth to blame. No Iya Korede to accuse; just me! I had single-handedly sealed my own faith by my singular erratic decision to shove her out of my way. I was busy wallowing in self-pity, wan and tired as sweat trickled down my face, cheek and even my armpit despite the -0 freezing temperature of the room which seemingly would have giving the artic and artactica regions a run for their money- even on their coldest days!
It was the father of all misfortunes which in a matter of minutes had been bestowed upon me; the jinx had reached its peak indeed! Even my overly optimistic alter-ego ‘Shakara’ knew better; my doom was sealed!
“I… I am…I”
Using my hands to demonstrate, I managed to stutter. Desperately seeking the right words to fall into place, but sill, none came to my rescue. Even my Judas tongue was stuck to the upper cavity of my mouth. No words. No rescue.
“I see”, she finally replied, her expression unreadable.
“Ehn, see what?!”
My inner voice screamed back at her but got no response as she simply turned to the bald yoruba man to her right who had fat tribal marks worthy of monumental recognitionon his two cheeks, spanning 3 lines from ear to lips on both sides of his face, as if what his monstrous parents had inflicted on him wasn’t enough to scare the ladies away, running and screaming in opposite directions with their feeets touching the backs of their heads whilst they ran; he just had to go ahead and add more salt to the injury by letting his stomach resemble a father christmas parody , that is if…
“Next agenda please, who presents 1st?”, she asked him.
“Ehm” checking through a sheet of paper I suspect our names were listed on.
“Alex Dele Thompson” he finally called out.
“Sir?”
A voice called out confidently from the back of the room and a well-dressed chap in his twenties stepped out of his seat, bouncing majestically, headed towards a corner of the room ushered to him by a lady I guess was a secretary or something. in no particular order, a series of names were also called out, and they all presented thus. I was trying so hard to ease the tension I was under as cold electric ants ran up and down my spine…
I kept going over my speech, again and again, I usually had no problem giving public speeches- but today was an exception. Today wasn’t just another day, it was THE day. Totally unaware of my newly assume role as the prayer warrior of the year, chanting some ‘power points’ over and over again like some Terry G song I have on my playlist- ‘Jump and Pass’. under my breath, I kept whispering
“Father, I donate my enemies as burnt offering for you, let them serve as ‘firewood’ for your hell fire”...
“In me is a weak heart, but inside it, is a strong God”
As if trying to bribe him to answer my prayer as fast as he did my cab prayer, earlier- As the cab thought came back to me , I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I remembered how this overly comported and strikingly beautiful boss lady in her 30′s was busy throwing a tantrum, stomping up and down like a child, in the middle of the road. She looked so different seated here not like the waif I had presumed; so calm and mature, unlike earlier- that was just hilarious! It soon also occurred to me that she must have owned the black BMW X6 our bus halted next to on the bridge- car problems, I presume. no wonder she was in such a haste to get here in time, she had to lead by example afterall.
Part of me now pitied her, maybe what I did was somewhat irresponsible, selfish and mean, but why did she stare me down like a piece of rag too? she begged for what she got jhoor ‘poetic justice’ we both shared the blame 50:50 (ok, maybe not 50:50; more like 60:40 or 55:45, something of sort). I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in that head of hers, maybe she was…
“Miss Bukola Ariette James”
The sound of my name dragged me by the heart (just like how the vampire-werewolf hybrid ‘Klaus’ in ‘Vampire Diaries’ usually did to other vampires!), yanking me out of my deep thought.
“To the podium, please”
The secretary ushered me, pointing towards it.
“Thank you” I immediately replied, getting up.
Eyes fixated on me like a Yoruba horror movie, I cautiously made my way to the podium, ignoring the stern eyes staring- especially Miss toothpicks’.
#Game of Thrones, season 4: Let the massacre begin… I encouraged myself.
WATCH OUT FOR THE NEXT EPISODE TO KNOW THE OUTCOME OF THE INTERVIEW…
Ps. Dear Diary, Do you think I would nail the interview or not?
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