April 17

Following from my previous post, here goes my first Seinfeld Productivity Story…

The dry northern harmattan winds blew over Nii’s face as he calmly walked towards the kiosk in his sadly, filthy neighborhood. Nii had grown to hate everything about this place; its people, the streets, the dilapidated and menacing buildings, not even the greenery was spared from his hate.

If there was one thing he relished about the harmattan, it was the fact that, for most of the day, the stench no one else seems to have noticed from all the rubbish lying about was absent. All the moisture had evaporated and thus considerably reduced the smell.

Despite knowing this, he stench-o-meter could still pick up signals from all around him. Nii really hated this neighborhood. He didn’t understand how people could happily live in such a place.

He almost had a seizure the first time he had moved into the neighborhood with his dad following his mum’s death. His mum had always been the breadwinner and his dad could barely sustain a job because of his deteriorating health and incredible hospital bills.

His dad had been disgusted at the sight of their new neighborhood much like his son, but being the father he was, assured it was only temporary, they would move out within a matter of months. He had after all, recently landed a job that seemed to have considered sustaining him especially because of his health. It was one of the many corporations striving to stand out from the rest by discarding the widely held view of them as anti-humanists.

Nii, hating everything about the Queens Regent Street hadn’t so much as had a five minute conversation with anyone in the neighborhood. The locals proudly boasted about their street because of its name and Nii had hated his neighborhood even more. For him, Bola street was more than apt what it should be called. And what the hell was it with naming a street all the way in Ghana after some old woman on a throne, ruling over a bunch of people very different from those of his country anyway.

He couldn’t fathom why anyone would do such a thing. Then again he reasoned, it was something that had been done since before Nkrumah and ever more so after his overthrow.

Nii was famed for his hate for the neighborhood and had thus earned the nickname, “BD” which stood for Broke Dadaba. He wasn’t dadaba now or when his mum was alive. At best, his family bordered on the thin line between poor and middle class.

Wearing his infamous scowl as he strode down the street, no one dared make conversation with him. He had often wondered if anyone respected and admired him. He knew people spoke behind his back and had seen and experienced enough to know he wasn’t in the least esteemed in his neighborhood.

He had increasingly seen the burly men in the hood over-zealously return his scowls with even more frightening venom than he could imagine, that made him shudder each time he saw a gym rat on TV.

His hate for the people in the neighborhood “infinitepuled” when his house, the only clean and decent looking building despite being broken and in need of desperate repairs was shitbombed. It took weeks to get rid of the stuff because no one would help clean it, and somehow, the water tankers hadn’t visited the hood for a long time.

Nii suspected all the residents of his neighborhood as co-conspirators, especially considering they were without water for a couple of weeks and there wasn’t the usual uproar and increase in filth.

Despite all these however, Nii still wondered if perhaps, just perhaps, there was a conscientious soul who admired and respected him for his boldness to discuss the issues affecting them and lead by example, examples which sadly, were only implemented by him and his father.

Nii got to the kiosk where he bought himself some airtime. He scratched it and proceeded to load it onto his phone.

There was someone else by his side who had also bought airtime along with some biscuits. As some sort of rule to perhaps minimize her chances of being poisoned, waste food or maybe just out of habit or, Nii didn’t know, she threw about four of the bisucits onto the street.

Nii looked at her with a raised eyebrow and had begun fuming when some poultry run across the street, seemingly from nowhere and quickly pecked on, and eventually gobbled down the biscuits. Nii conjectured the other or might be to feed stray animals.

The lady proceeded to drink from a sachet of water she had bought and to his dismay, mindlessly and casually threw the airtime vouchers she had just bought, three of them into the middle of the street.

As if to taunt him, the sachet she had just emptied followed. Awash with fury, Nii turned to her to give her a verbal scolding only to be dumfounded by the actions of a scantily clad, excessively made up yet radiant and beautiful dreadlocked girl, touted as the area whore who was passing by.

She grabbed the perpetrator by her fake, lusterless and plain ugly hair and dragged her to the middle of the street, ordering her to pick up the litter she had just dropped. The perpetrator managed an intimidated and yet bold quip at the dreadlocked whore.

“just because you’ve been sleeping around with Tankas (town council) fools doesn’t make you an inspector. Or is it the color of your clothes? Are you deceived into thinking you’re Zoom Lion just because you’re in orange and blue?”

What happened next blew his mind, the vendor he had just bought from whom Nii considered the worst dirtmonger replied:

“they say little drops of water make a mighty ocean. Do you think the people here just up and decided one day to bring all manner of filth here?”

Nii didn’t condone violence of any kind, especially when it came to women not just violence from men; he couldn’t recount the number of times he had stopped fights between girls in his class.

Nii simply walked back home, beaming within himself despite the perpetrator receiving a trashing from the two ladies who were considerably larger and stronger than her. Nii’s brain told him to go break up the fight, one glance back, Nii listened to his heart instead.

The perpetrator’s fake hair was all over the place and she looked like a maniac. Somehow, she had been made to start picking some of the plastic bags on the side of the street.

Nii was impressed and almost swallowed his tongue when he thought he saw the supposed “whore” smirk at him, the kind of smirk seen in movies that signaled a girl was interested in a guy like that.

Nii had his answer.

PS. No review was done so please forgive me. 🙂

I hope I wasn’t sexist or seem to advocate violence.


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