When the cassette tape played, I was seldom interested in the lyrics—how likely was a 6-year-old to care? Yet I could feel sorrow, compassion, and sadness in the singer’s voice. I imagined someone hurting her. Was she hit, betrayed, lonely? Her voice held a mystery I wanted to uncover, but she was miles away from me. Since I could not unravel the enigma, I let the thought go. As I grew older, my mother did not grow tired of playing the cassette tape. I could not hide from hearing it either, unless I could afford a roof over my head. One evening, during the holiday and with no homework to attend to, I had to ask her. ‘Mum, who’s this person always sad when they’re singing?’ ‘You mean all this time, you don’t know it’s Dolly Parton? And who told you she’s sad? When you truly express how you feel, it is not always a sad tale, my girl. Do you even know what this song playing is about?’ ‘Yes, ma. It’s her coat of many colours, just like the one Joseph had, right?’ ‘Eh en. Only hers was give...
THE TAKSI THAT TALKS! If you are A TAXI driver, please do not talk too much. It is not every passenger that is interested in chit-chatting. It is even worse when you have body odour and spit out, leaving long lines of liquid on your car window. Please stop it! Oluwafemi was his name. He picks me up from Berger; we head for Yaba. It is at about 7:00 p.m, the roads are not so free. I am seated in the passenger seat, a decision I regret. I should have been at the back with my eyes glued to my phone. Unfortunately, we all make wrong choices sometimes. “Sister abeg you get USB cord for there? This my phone go soon die.” I replied with a NO and he asked; “why you no go get na? You no carry phone comot for house? And I need this thing badly today o as the one wen I buy for traffic na wash. For that guy mind now e don gba me. Na why I deyhope say one rider (like Me) go dash me cord.” A call comes in to save me from the beginning of what was yet to come. I am on the phone for anoth...