First thing: Thank you Enwongo Cleopas and Oladejo Oluwatosin. You both are forever in my heart.
Last week Wednesday, before I started that joke about my hair, I put up a post on Facebook about my plan to spend my last kobo on novels. Here is what I posted:
“Dear friends, pray for me.
Tomorrow, I will wake up after the cock has woken up, eaten breakfast and has danced that his stupid dance for his babe. Then I will brush my teeth and slip into one of these jerseys I have. I will yawn like a crocodile and rub my eyes. Then I will put on my glasses, wear my slippers and step into the light.
The sun will be out already. I will make my way to my favourite bookstore in Obafemi Awolowo University. When I get there, I will pick up this beautiful book I saw there yesterday. With red eyes and a crying bank account in GTB, I will bring out my wallet and empty the content before the bookseller. I will walk away while she’s still counting the money.
Friends, I am taking my last card to the bookstore tomorrow to get a novel. A novel! Pray for me brothers. Pray for my bank account. Pray for me!”
I asked for prayers. And then I didn’t mention anything about this again and that drama about my hair started and then I fell in love with Sefi Atta; all in one week! I’m sure some of you must be wondering, if his dude really spent his last card on novels, how come he’s still alive to disturb my news feed? Where did he get the money to pay the barber who performed signs and wonders with his hair? Is this guy to be trusted at all?
I’m sorry for my silence. It was intentional. Here is what really happened.
Of course I woke up that morning as I had planned. I made for the bookstore and lo and behold, the door was locked. The padlock stared at me with big blue eyes as if to say, ‘What is your problem, dude? Don’t you have a family? Come back when the sun is out!’ Disappointed, I decided to go back in the evening.
Before evening however, you people had already climbed Everest for me and my prayers had ascended to my Maker. I put on my data connection and waited for those unnecessary WhatsApp messages to deliver. I watched as the numbers rose: 200 messages from 13 chats, 586 messages from 19 chats., 1857 messages from 42 chats. Who will save from this? After WhatsApp had done its own, Messenger started. I watched in annoyance, not knowing that was where the answer to my prayers was lurking. I checked Messenger first and I got messages from two beautiful friends of mine who had decided to contribute to my ‘novel-buying’. Contribute?
I rushed to the bathroom, washed my face clean, looked at myself in the mirror. After making sure I wasn’t having a realistic dream, I checked my Messenger again and the message was still there. People of God, I wasn’t dreaming. These two ladies asked me to send my bank account number. I did not hesitate. I sent it immediately and watched as I received a credit alert from GTBank. I dropped to my knees in thanksgiving. So I won’t be spending my last card after all.
I love you guys. I love you for praying for me. For climbing Olumo rock for me. And to those who entered my Messenger and asked for my account number, I’m in love you already. You really don’t know how much this means to me. I love books! I love writing! I love reading! I love books more than food! I didn’t expect anything. I just did what I normally do on Facebook: writing what’s on my mind and causing a little bit of trouble. And it turned out that I wasn’t just causing trouble for nothing. I’m happy.
For those of you wondering where I got the money to perform wonders with my hair, I guess this post has answered your question.
PHOTO: The books I bought. I now have the complete Twilight series and a new novel from Francine Rivers (sure my sister is delighted about this one!)
O dabo. (‘Bye bye’ in Yoruba language.)