Mr. Cele hasn’t been very happy tonight. He’s grumpy, getting mad about everything. He’s even complaining that the malt he was served has too much sugar. Tokunbo, who never minds her business, asks him if everything is alright at home. Eddie suggests that maybe his kids have spoiled the TV remote again. We laugh. I […]
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A live band is playing in the background tonight at Metroville. Everybody around is swaying their body to the rhythm of the elite highlife sounds of the performers. Even Mallam Hassan is casually nodding his head while taking occasional big man puffs out of his cigar. Eddie, being the Lagos boy that he is, has
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Tonight, only myself and Eddie are cheery. Mr. Cele’s sullenness isn’t much of a surprise, but Tokunbo is uncharacteristically grumpy too. When I asked her, she said she was alright, but the more time I’ve spent here tonight, the more I realize how far from the truth she is. Eddie whispers to me, loud enough
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Eddie is uncharacteristically moody tonight. Tokunbo is doing her best to rile him up with her mischief but he’s giving her the blunt end of his reactions. Mr. Cele is explaining to me the wonders of the gbegiri and ewedu combination, a taste he acquired during his NYSC days in Osogbo decades ago, but I’m
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Eddie has been on a video call with a South African lady he’s trying to convince to visit Abuja; all expenses on him. Tokunbo isn’t here yet. Mallam Hassan and Mr. Cele are not here too. After Eddie gets done with his call I tell him that Mr. Cele is going to arrive here complaining
It’s a lethargic evening at Metroville. Mallam Hassan has, as usual, not arrived. Mr. Cele is also yet to arrive. Tokunbo is having a heated Twitter spat with someone, and so her concentration is divided between us and her phone. It’s just Eddie and I actively present. We’re having a casual chit-chat about football when
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Mr. Cele stumbles into the gathering tonight later than usual. You can see the rage burning in his eyes. We know that he’s a grumpy middle-aged man most of the time, but the fury in his eyes tonight tells of a more profound frustration. He sits down after Tokunboh helps him set his seat properly.
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It’s a slow evening tonight. Mallam Hassan has been on a phone call for hours. Mr. Cele isn’t in the right mood to socialize. Tokunbo and I are having a light banter over red wine. Eddie is watching skits on Instagram. Eddie looks up from his phone and swears Mr. Macaroni makes the best comedy
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