Mogbo moya

My fanciest clothes are always out on the weekends

I don’t struggle with ironing. For a fee, Ahmed who lives in front of the compound makes sure I’m wrinkle free.

I usually babysit Gboyega’s car during the weekends too. He was recently transferred to an out of country office, has not found need to ship his car over, and would not sell because he had the car done up to suit his taste. It’s a 2015 Toyota Avensis. Considering how ugly I thought the earlier models were, I never thought driving an Avensis would excite me as much as the thought of the weekends do now.

My name is Dasola,  and this is how I spend my Saturdays.

I usually wake at 5 am because I prefer to fix my breakfast before my traditional run (usually starts up as run and ends as a long walk).I’m kitted and out the door by 6am, God forbid I forget my earphones. I “run” and I’m back within the hour, shower and have my breakfast. Ordinarily I’d have my laundry sorted while Mercy,my young Igbo friend whose mother fries akara across the street, cleaned the house. But recently Mercy begged for her brother to do the washing, for a token of course. She sounded like he really needed the money and since she has never stolen anything from me before now, I thought I’d oblige her.

“Bia Nwoke,  as you can see, I’m only letting you go through my stuff because your sister is my girl. This is lagos, if I shout “ole” we will lynch you and then ask questions later,you understand?” I tried to sound stern and pull off the little Igbo I’d picked while warning Mercy’s brother. Mercy was behind me and I caught her from the corner of my eye nodding in agreement.

So now that the usual chores are out of the way, I take the time to go grocery shopping and buy supplies for my workplace if need be.

Whatever the case, I make sure I’m home by 3pm, to head out at 4pm.

You see, the reason my best clothes are out in the weekend is because I have a habit.

I’m a gate-crasher. I’d gate-crash your parties, weddings, whatever event.

I have been doing this for so long now that the bouncers know me. Some of the caterers and the servers too. I’d blush and find it embarrassing, except that it’s a really good rep if you asked me. It means your “invitation only” event already has me on the list. It means that no matter when I show up, the waiter at your event has small chops saved for me.

I am a huge fan of Owambes. I figured if someone already paid for entertainment there is no need for me to go and spend money at a bar or lounge or whatever, buying drinks and forming “living the life”.

You may wonder how I hear about what events may be happening. When the bible said all things work together for the good of those who love God it wasn’t playing AT ALL!

Instagram comes in handy. When your fancy pre-wedding pictures come online, I find out if I know somebody that knows somebody. When I do find, I holla at them for details.

Fortunately, I have the most non-judgemental friends, they always indulge my habits and provide these info willingly. If they use it to yab me behind my back (I have heard a couple of gist,*rme), consign them really!

Also my hot cake caterer-turned allies also help me with details and what not. Sometimes I’m even spoilt for choice (Ha!I know right!).

Anyways, today is a beautiful sunny day in the city, and my face beat is so fleek you can cut through a crowd with the wings of my eyeliner. I’m feeling particularly good about today’s event. My favourite dessert person is catering the event,  and I cannot wait to dig in.

My inner fat girl is coming out to play but looking at my reflection, you can never tell. I smile at my reflection and as the highlight on my face hits the mirror, I feel it’s ray hit all the way across town.


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