Madam
come, see if e go size you, try now e fit size you….” This was a shoe
seller at Balogun Market enticing me to take a seat in his tiny shed
and try on a pair which he proceeded to place on the ground over a
carefully spread sheet of paper to protect his inventory from the dirt
of Lagos. It is a novel concept is it not? This idea that the shoe has
in some way to conform to your perfect foot. It has to fit you, not the
other way round.
This is almost as
plaintive as that other typical Nigerian construction. “I came to your
house the other day, but I met your absence.” There is something so
poetic about the sound of that. It conveys in such a dignified way the
regret at not finding you home, without suggesting any remission on your
part for not being there.
In the same vein
comes: “How is your mother, say me well to her when you see her.” This
could mean speak well of me to her, but the real import is give her my
good tidings and that is so much more than say hello to her or greet her
for me.
Then there are those
constructions that we have seized on and sized to fit our usage. We
have an intermittent relationship with electric power, and exercise
whatever control we can by ‘oning’ it and offing it, with a vengeance.
Nothing so genteel as switch it off or turn it on, we dispense with all
protocol and off it or on it, snatching those brief opportunities we
have to do so.
Likewise, or should I
say, in this wise, we get to the kernel of the issue. Why else would
one sit around cracking palm nuts? The British coined the phrase, To be
forewarned is to be forearmed, whereas, we just know that to be for war
is to be for army. Finish. Case closed! Think before you enlist.
Not to put too fine a
point on it, Lagos is a city where traffic takes such a toll on our
time there is little left for other things. Subsequently getting to the
point quickly and efficiently is an important part of any discourse. You
want that goat leg cut into pieces? Don’t confuse the butcher, just ask
him to “pieces it”. Much quicker; three words versus two.
Driving along Broad
Street many years ago, and searching in vain for a parking spot, my
father pointed to what he thought looked like an available space, but
the driver knew better. “Oga there is no true fare there,” he
volunteered. Of course he was right. It was supposed to be a
thoroughfare but the Lagos municipality in its infinite wisdom had
blocked the road off with giant cement boulders. There truly was no way
for a car to get through to that tempting parking space.
And while we are on
the subject of driving and looking for destinations, there is nothing so
taxing as trying to find an address in a country that is still very
much a work in progress, a construction consistently under different
management, plans incomplete, or new wings abandoned: this house in not
for sale! So there is this story of asking for directions somewhere in
the middle of a busy metropolis, just about mid south of anywhere in
this blessed land…
“E dey for alon.”
“Which side for alon?” “Dhown.” “Which side for dhown?” “Dhown,
dhown.” Believe it
or not this is clearer than asking about an address and being told to
drive “two poles.” What in the name of sweet tombo is a pole?
Ours is a society
with such a multiplicity of cultures that we have honed the ability to
convey a world of meaning with the simple, curt, phrase. A good and
homely wife, anxious to fulfil her maternal instincts and envelop her
home with the sound of many children’s voices, literally drags her
abstemious spouse to her gynaecologist because he won’t ‘do’ to her
satisfaction. The embarrassed man offers this one explanation to the
doctor’s gentle enquiry.
“I am tinkin.”
Determined not to let the issue die the wife counters:
“You are tinkin?
What are you tinkin?” This is akin to that example of Lagos road rage,
“What are you driving?” which has nothing to do with the make of the
car.
What indeed.
Now if this were a
case of, “I am reading,” all Madam Missis would have to do would be to
off the light and proceed to pieces the whole argument.
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