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Two Worlds - Season 1 - Episode 35
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Source: olaxali


The leather covering her car seat looked new and not mended, but it was; the thread lines, though vague, weren’t invisible. The carpenter approached and talked to Jide with the pidgin diction. Jide did not reply with same this time, but with the popular Yoruba and talked fluently with it. Before she could open her purse, he had already brought out some notes from his pocket. Though she preferred paying, no complaints. She could use the moment. She skirted hands round him and smiled, sU-Cked all his lemon and tried to reach his abdominal muscles. They were so far into his polo-shirt that she couldn’t feel them even when she leaned forward. “Thank you.”
“Go straight home,” he said.
If he couldn’t find better words, he should best stay quiet. “I never knew you were Yoruba.”

“I’m not. I’m from the eastern Nigeria. I’m Igbo.”
“I believe what I heard you speak with the carpenter was the Yoruba everyone speaks.”
“Yes. Maybe after three years in Lagos, you will be able to speak that.”
She ambled to her car, waved at him and started.

He watched her drive, and she watched him through the rear-view mirror. He was so young in the shorts. Yes, he was, and anyone would guess middle twenties, but no, not middle twenties; he was in his thirties, hard to accept, but true. He entered his car and zoomed.

She parted open her brains and brought out some of the lemon. Bit by bit, she let them crawl out of her head. Then, she thought of home. Mum home, dad home, aunt home, a full house. Her smile widened.

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