Diary of the Crazy Shaniqua Bello

Log Forty-seven: CONVERSATION

FORTY-SEVEN
CONVERSATION

Tuesday

4:50 pm

Dear, Diary

There's a massive queue in the particular filling station where Elvis likes buying his fuel and he's stepped outside to speak to a friend and colleague of his that I do not recognize at all— one of those wanna-be actors that still need to go and wash their heads in the river of fame.

Anyway, we had a little talk in the car that I thought to share with you, my dear Amebo friend, as that's the only food, drink, and air that you survive on. Take no offense though.

...

As soon as we stepped into the car to leave, he reminded me to fasten my seatbelt as usual but there was a calmness about his voice that has been missing since I started working with him—which now that I'm thinking of it, was only yesterday. Why does it seem like a decade ago though? Damn!

Anyway, I obeyed and I started counting from number 1 in my head because I knew we were just going to have, "the talk" and he didn't disappoint. He started at 147.

"I'm really sorry for Esosa's behavior—I'll understand if you choose to file an assault case or something."

"People can do that in this country?" I heard myself ask in unbelief and I quickly gathered myself when I saw the evident sadness that mounted his face still.

"Of course, Shaniqua. We run a democratic system in this country after all and it's just that the majority are too busy hustling for money to ascertain their rights that's why it looks as if it's only the rich that know the way to the lawyer's office."

"Broke people just sort it out right away, jungle justice, violence, or Babalawo." I laughed, feeling relieved that he wasn't so tense anymore, and now that I think of it, what's my business if he was tensed or not. Shebi you can see that I'm moving mad low-key bah?

"Babalawo is the Yoruba term for herbalist right?"

"That's alagbo—Babalawo is the word used for spiritual and diabolical practitioners." I corrected him in my father's specific words and I just knew that he'd be smiling at me from heaven. He always loved clarifying Yoruba words.

"That's... quite descriptive," he nodded to himself like he'd just learned something and I adjusted in my seat and started considering a career in Yoruba education. He finally cleared his throat and said, "I'll really appreciate it, Shaniqua, if no one at work hears about this. I'll pay for whatever damage she must have caused," and I know he expected me to say something like, "Oh, don't worry about it sir, it's all good," but I disappointed him when I said,

"I'll send the bill to you on WhatsApp by the end of the day." He just scoffed with his usual perfect smile on his face, informing me about his need for fuel minutes later.

I've never been grateful for a fight in my entire life.

Second day and I'm about to cash out again! If I continue like this, I might just open a boutique or something.

Bye for now, he's coming to move his car forward.

The cash-out queen: Shaniqua.

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