My first love was my mother and my second love was my smart phone. Mum bought me my mobile phone (first phone i ever used) during my birthday, last three years. I practically went everywhere with my smart phone. I slept with it lying on my chest most nights, i went for dates with it and i even usually go to the toilet with it. Infact, there was a time it had mistakenly dropped inside our water closet while i was holding it and “doing business”. That was the day i thought it would die, but luckily for me, after i picked it out of the closet, removed the battery immediately, sun-ed it and hid it under the bag of rice in our store, i fixed back the battery and pushed the power button and Viola! It worked!
It had been a very loyal and faithful lover, up till last 2 weeks when it decided to jilt me. I felt so depressed and heart broken but when my mum asked me to go to the market to check for the price of a moderate phone she could afford, I was so happy. I quickly wore my “skin tight” trouser and a blouse to match, did light makeup, carried my handbag and left for the phone market, ecstatic.
When i got to the market, i was very disappointed. They said the price of dollar had increased and hence price of phones had also increased. All the phones i had in mind were all above my 100k mark and i was expecting mum to give me 70k while i added the last 30k i had to my name. I was about leaving one of the phone shop outlets i had been haggling prices, to head back home and think of a way to get additional money, when he met me.
“Good afternoon missus” He said with a lovely smile.
I looked back and our eyes met. He was dark skinned, averagely tall and had a slightly concealed yoruba mark on his left cheek. Even with his polished English, you wouldn’t need an “expo” to tell he was yoruba. I have a couple of yoruba friends but there was just something different about him that made him seem distinct from my male yoruba friends. I still haven’t been able to place that “something”. Ordinarilly, i usually snob stranger’s that try to talk to me on the road. This is lagos, computer village at that. No one trusts anyone, especially during this festive period when horrid tales abound.
“Good afternoon sir” i replied politely, returning his smile.
I quickly sized him up. He should be wearing close to 400k on him. His shoes and suit were Italian. His wrist watch, although slightly concealed, was an expensive piece of rolex and he wore a perfume that smelled expensive. He was dangling his car key with his left small finger.
“I was just stepping out, and i was wondering if you might be going my direction. I could drop you off with ease” he began, still smilling.
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