“Come read this cheery news, Kay. They say China has demanded for Nigeria’s oil, apparently brewing the tonic of a chummy relationship between the two countries.” “Charles I’ve read it, and it does not entice me in any way. Who does not know that China is looking for ways of taking over the Nigerian economy and dominating it? Guy, the truth is that the Buhari administration’s original template is to indigenise our technological growth by empowering Nigerian entrepreneurs to borrow
technology and expertise.”
“Yes, yes, I now understand. They know that the fall in the price of oil will make us submit to any form of bailout, regardless of accompanying subterfuge. And so when the Chinese now come with their existing big industries, they’ll simply take over the economy and turn our army of halfbaked engineering graduates to mere recruits.”
“What have you not seen? See how our young chaps working with them in their textile warehouses are being treated; just like the Marxian-day hoi polloi, the wretched of the earth.” “Haba, Kay, you are rather too hard on them. Or did you ‘toast’ a Chinese lady and didn’t succeed in the aspiration?”
“I beg, ‘woman wrapper’, come of that. Ask your bewitching Joke, the owner of this beer parlour- which you helped brand ‘Liquor Republic’ – to serve us beer, either criminally cold or of room temperature.”
“Perhaps you should have said, ‘bedroom temperature.’ This is because, once I leave this place, I have a project to execute under that temperature. Well, as for you, look eastwards, you will see a lady sitting up there. She is called Mulikat, a successful pepper seller at Mile 12 market. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind to give you her own version of ‘bedroom temperature’.”
“Thank you for the Greek gift. I don’t want. You opted for heavily endowed Joke, a self-reliant B.Sc holder who owns a fantastic pub, and then decided to relegate me to the very background of dating a potentially smelly, illiterate market woman who you would say ‘How are you?’ to, and she would reply, ‘Am feel fine.’”
“That’s the mistake you are making, Kay. Don’t underrate these market women. Many of them are now educated, well dressed and scintillating. Though their chores may attract dirt, once they are out of the market environment, they are one of the best sets of Lady Ronaldo you can get?” “Okay? Tell me more, my dear professor of backwater womanising oh, lest I forget, I hope she is not here because she has been displaced at the Mile 12 Market? Remember Governor Akinwumi Ambode ordered the market closed because of a bloody clash arising from ethnic dissonance.”
“Kay, I love the way you always reframe sensitive matters with grammatical tact. ‘Ethnic dissonance’. When you should have said, ‘A bloody clash between Hausa and Yoruba traders.’”” “Yes, we’ve got to be careful. You know everything in Nigeria is fragile.
Our unity, our economy, our politics and our well-being; all are fragile.” “Excluding my Joke here, she is far from being fragile…but don’t you think the closure of Mile 12 Market for upwards of two weeks will amount to colossal losses and bring untold hardship on the hapless traders?” “Of course; that should be expected. I learnt that the market closure has even extended to Ketu and that many of the traders have been forced to relocate to Carra at the Berger section of the Lagos-Ibadan Expressway.”
“Mulikat, the psychedelic pepper merchant is very close to you here at Joke’s Liquor Republic and yet, you want to walk away, when it is cold out there.” “Charlso, I now understand what they mean by ‘the danger of peer influence.’ Now, you want to conscript me into buying your Mulikat product, and I my resistance is becoming weak.”
“Yes, it must be, especially when you are dealing with an expert like me. Let her draw nearer and let Joke replace our ‘leaking’ bottles and serve our visitor all the way from the Mile 12 war zone as well. After all, this is a comfort zone.” “Clown. Let me also reciprocate your nice gesture by ordering for three plates of steaming hot, goat-meat pepper soup, to make our beer bubble properly, in its journey through the oesophagus.” “I commend your foresight. Hdid you know that Mulikat was brewery
personified; her gender notwithstanding. Her friend told me she could ‘shell’ as many as six bottles of beer at a sitting.” “Really, I saw it on her face and her torso encampment. I have been drinking beer for upwards of 25 years; so I have virtually become an indisputable
psycho-liquor analyst…but that aside, Charles, see the burden you have placed on me-to now date a chronic drunk simply because you want me to explore the world of a Mile 12 pepper seller.”
“Never mind. You will reap the dividends once Mile 12 is re-opened. She will use you and pass you on to the tomato seller, egg seller, ponmo seller, and all the other sellers. What a philandering heist!” “Yeye man; you can invite Mulikat to our table. You can see that she is now upbeat, having successfully eavesdropped on our conversation. She is smiling to the joy of a refreshing escape, from the Mile 12 brouhaha.
