Being Vivian: The Everyday Life Of A Lagos Big Girl (Episode 13: Moving On)
The fiasco with Segun didn’t deter me from enjoying the Christmas holiday; if anything, I felt free and reveled in my independence.
Segun tried calling me a couple of times but I never answered. Then he sent me a bunch of texts asking that we meet and talk. Boy, bye!
Ronke didn’t even call to ask me my own side of the story, she just went mute on me and I really didn’t care. I warned her in the beginning that this would happen one day but did she listen to me? No.
The days that followed were spent in the company of my entire family and longtime friends, some of whom subtly asked if I finally had a boyfriend yet and I gleefully replied with a resounding no. Life was sweet again! Yass gurrlll…
“If I didn’t know better, I would have thought you’re very happy about your breakup with Segun,” my younger sister, Esther remarked as we cooked together in the kitchen on New Year’s Eve.
One of our uncles who lived in Ughelli was in town and had taken it upon himself to visit every of his known relative in Lagos. Today was our turn to host him.
“Why shouldn’t I be happy?” I asked her nonchalantly as I munched a piece of fried chicken that was supposed to join its mates in the boiling pot of stew.
“Ahn ahn, I thought you really liked him?” My sister queried.
“Liked who?” My other sister, Florence asked as she glided into the kitchen looking like Kate Middleton in her prim Ankara dress and perfectly coiffed Ghana weaving hairstyle. Something about Florence’s ever poised demeanor grated on my nerves. My mood soured immediately.
“Mind your business,” I snapped at her.
My harsh tone caught her by surprise. “Are we fighting?” She asked me.
I ignored her.
“As I was saying,” Esther continued firmly. “I thought you liked him? What did he do wrong? Did he cheat on you?”
“Please, one question at a time,” I said.
“And no, he didn’t cheat. He wouldn’t have had the balls to try that bullshit with me.”
“Language please!” Florence huffed like a proper schoolmarm.
“Nobody invited you here in the first place, Queen Elizabeth!” I told her.
“Can you please stop with the name calling?” She asked icily.
“We can have a conversation without slinging guns.”
“Whatever,” I replied absently.
“Oya answer my question!” Esther insisted.
My phone rang.
“Saved by the bell,” I said and hurried out of the kitchen to answer my phone. Mom had strict rules about not answering phones in the kitchen.
“Hello,” I answered the call without even checking the caller ID.
“Hello Yarinya,” came the response from the other end.
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I instantly recognized the voice even though I hadn’t heard it in a long while. That singsong voice with the lilting Hausa accent was hard to miss.
“Hajiya Hajara! So you still have my phone number. How are you na?”
“I’m fine o, my sister,” she replied with that girly laugh of hers. “You just forgot me ba?”
“Abeg don’t start. You’re the one who’s busy flying up and down with your husband and children. I even saw your recent photos on Instagram. Are you guys back from Dubai?”
“Yes, yes. We came back like two weeks ago and went straight to Kano. We just returned to Lagos this morning.”
“Hmm, Hajara Living the Good Life!” I said digging up a nickname I coined for her after she married Alhaji Bashir Tanko seven years ago and spent the first year travelling the world with him
“Abeg stop it joor. We are all living the good life,” she said demurely.
“Walahi, I have missed you fa. I can’t remember the last time I spoke pidgin!”
“Oh, so I’m the one you call when you want to be razz abi? You dey crase” she laughed for two minutes straight before catching her breath and speaking again.
''Vivian please tell me you don’t have any plans for tomorrow. Please!”
“Ahn ahn, wetin happen?”
“Do you have plans?”
“As of right now, no. What’s up?”
“Great! Alhaji is hosting some of his friends and business associates at our place tomorrow. He said I can invite my friends too. Please come, will you? I really wish to see you.”
Now that’s the reason Hajara and I became friends in the first place way back in UNILAG. She was so child-like, innocent and very sincere. She’s not stuck up like most rich kids and even now, she doesn’t act like a woman who is married to a billionaire. Whereas, Florence, my sister that is married to an ordinary investment banker is acting as if she is Mrs. Bill Gates. Mstchewww!
“Okay love. It would be nice to see you again too,” I replied Hajara.
“Yay!” She squealed.
“I can’t wait to see you. Shebi you know my place? You’ve been here once ba?”
“Yeah, like a hundred years ago. Abeg send me your address again joor. Abi you want make I go lost for Banana Island?”She laughed.
“You know that’s not possible. Ok, I’ll send it once I hang up now.”
“Hey wait,” I said hurriedly before she hung up. “I hope it won’t be an old people’s party? Will there be young guys there?” Hajara chuckled mischievously.
“You this silly girl, why would I invite you to an old people’s party? Is my husband an old man?”
“Erm… Hajara, he’s 62.” I reminded her.
“Shut up joor. He works with young people and he’s not old” I laughed.
“If you say so.”
“I do. And make sure you come here looking spicy hot. I promise you, you won’t be disappointed.”
“Oshey Hajaratu! You shall see me there like fire. Oya hang up, lemme go and arrange my outfit.”
“Razzite!” She yelled in between fits of laughter and hung up. Now this is what I’m talkin’ about! Time to go a-fishing…
** To be continued in episode 14**