This morning I felt like crap like I always felt after a night shift.
Siphokazi’s velvety voice was pouring out from the modest speakers of the Kia Hatchback. Her song ‘Amacala’ was playing. I don’t understand Zulu or Afrikaans so I couldn’t make out what she was singing about, it didn’t sound like a happy song either. A heartbreak must have inspired this number, I thought to myself. Anyway, this song for me had become some kind of sedative. It created a place I could go to for comfort, where I could escape from this antagonistic world, at least for 5.04 minutes.
On a really bad day I often hit the repeat button…
At 7am I decided to let Siphokazi take a breather and switched the tuner to catch the news…
Global Economic melt down, recession, terrorism, an absentee president, earthquakes… “Crap!... Switch!” A growing line of cars parked up ahead indicated a gas station and a quick glance at my fuel gauge confirmed my fears...I had to join the queue. “na wa…I might just have to marry Siphokazi so she can sing ’amacala’ to me all my life!” I mused.
30 cars and growing and the station attendants stuck to selling from one nozzle! I parked right behind a sleek Toyota Camry and shifted my weight to get comfortable for a very long day at the gas station.
A gentle tap on my window and I looked up into the face of a goddess. She was smiling and was saying something to me while pointing to my car stereo.
I guess she wasn’t trying to tell me she had the same exact car stereo because she seemed very enthusiastic. So I wound down to hear her out.
“Oh my God! Is that Siphokazi…I just love her!” she bellowed.” My name’s Peace, I’m South African…never expected to hear this in Lagos!”
5 ft 10, her flawlessly dark skin complimented her eyes and teeth which were silvery white. She had a figure that’d make Tyra banks go neon green with envy. She drove a Camry…and she liked my Siphokazi. Stephen's Siphokazi...
The song that bought me peace had brought me Peace…pun intended.
‘Hello guys, welcome to my humble attempt at a blog’.
(Sniff) it’s the rainy season in this part of west Africa and my sinuses get congested because the weather gets really chilly but the nasal blockage can solely be blamed on the rain droplets that send dust particles into the air. (Sniff) then again, maybe I’m just trying to stifle a sob.
If you ask me, the best remedy for a blocked nose is unarguably, ‘pepper soup’. I don’t care what your doctor tells you but I’m sure he’ll be writing you a prescription while sipping on a plate of steamy hot ‘pepper soup’. No jokes.
The rain had washed out the dust that once obscured the zinc roofs of the decent semi detached houses that made up Adeniyi estate and now they gave off an auburn glow in the setting sun. I casually took in the ambiance of Ubah bar as I slurped my soup.
Susan was very generous with the pepper in the soup this time. Two bottles of guiness stout and my tongue is still burning like summertime in hell! “Suzie, na wa o.” I managed to blurt out when she returned with my third bottle of guiness. “you mean me this time o” She gave me that shy grin she reserved specially for me. ‘oga , I hope say you dey enjoy am o, na fres’ cat fis’ I put for inside’. I nodded in agreement to the freshness of the fish. ‘but the pepper too much na’ I complained. She nodded as if to assure me. ‘oga, na speshal ingredence o, no be pepper’ she pointed towards the kitchen. ‘ na mama fisayo traffle go Ibadan to buy the ingredence’ she continued. ‘ e dey cure cold and catarrh’ .
There! Susan, mama Fisayo and probably hundreds of thousands of people in Ibadan agree that ‘pepper soup’ is to nasal congestion what aspirin is to headache. (Sniff)
Well, this is my first post on my blog. Oh, the pressure!
I, sincerely, did not understand the amount of preparation one needed to start these things! For instance, If you like my blog templates please do not hesitate to compliment me as I spent irredeemable man hours designing it up to its present level.
Allow me to trace a few steps backwards because I’m running ahead of myself here.
The very first step to starting a blog is the thought. Yes. You would have to think it to create it. You must also have a passion for writing. (God help me) . Let’s just say, you should thrive to be creative in choosing this hobby. OK, please do not lose sleep on this as creativity is overrated these days. All I’m trying to say is just be you. I got some insights from blogger friends and also had to do some online research on blog providers. There are quite a few out there and ‘the best blog providers are free’ in this context.
OK, that’s enough on the blogging tutorial jare.
I intend to post a story or two as frequently as time would allow me to. I also plan to keep you coming back for more. All in good time. Now…permit me to get back to my soup (Sniff)
