Good morning people!!!
Remember I told you guys about the roof people who came to do repairs a few weeks ago… well, they couldn’t agree on a price with the landlord. The landlord said that Julius Berger wouldn’t be that expensive, so they left after two days. I was relieved when they left because honestly, I would rather continue with my bucket-under-holes-in-the-ceiling method of keeping the house dry any time it rains. That would be better than having random labourers trooping in and out of my house… (yes, I realise how foolish that sounds)
Anyway, the landlord sent another set of carpenters last week and work started immediately. These ones are Yoruba men who live in the East (Abia) and insist on practicing the little Igbo they have learnt on me. I am not impressed and I’ve made it clear that English is just fine. They are always laughing, and their oga sings at the top of his voice when he’s working. Sadly, he doesn’t sing sexy Lagbaja-ish or King Sunny Ade-ish songs. He sings razz backwater Yoruba high-life, and he feels compelled to mouth the instrumentals along with the song.
I have to say though that I envy one thing about them. I envy the fact that when they are on the roof working under the sun, or on the ground chopping wood, or cramped in the security house where they stay, they are always happy. They are happy-go-lucky fellas who usually just go about their business and they don’t ask for anything… except that one time their oga asked me for a “plate”. I went in and got a plate from the kitchen and he laughed so hard I thought he might fart. He calmed down eventually and told me that he wanted a plate to watch “feem”. I wanted to break the plate and start my career as a tattoo artist on his face but instead, I went back in and got him some cds. Who the hell says “plate” after 1908?
I can imagine that they think I’m a nasty bitch because this time, I’m not smiling. I learned from the last set that smiling too much will breed insults later. Either that or one of them might ask me out like Chuks the gen man… probably to go see a “feem” at the cinemas. They call me “Madame” and it almost makes me cum every single time 🙂
Anyway, it rained on Sunday morning… in the middle of the night (3:30am). It wasn’t heavy, but the plaster in the ceiling got soaked and the ceiling in my brother’s room caved in and fell on his bed. No, he’s not dead… he wasn’t on the bed when it happened. We were too busy with the buckets then.
Long story short, I now live downstairs in the living room because the top floor is flooded and there’s no ceiling in some parts. It looks like the aftermath of a baby Katrina. And that’s how I spent the whole of Sunday doing up my new living quarters. It looks like a very large master bedroom now and even though I quite like being able to do cartwheels in my new room, I have to maintain a serious frown for the sake of the landlord. He has to know we don’t tolerate shit like this.
The best part about all this is that I no longer have to go all the way downstairs to fix myself a midnight snack… the kitchen is just a few steps away from my bed 😀
How was your weekend people? And does anybody know how you say ‘Shut the f@*k up!’ in Yourba?
ps: This is not what I wanted to tell you guys about!!! I don’t know how this post got this long… 🙁