Published on June 14th, 2012 | by thetoolsman18
43 Fafunwa S2 Ep4 : Sanitary Concerns
Previously on 43 Fafunwa
“As you all know, I, Ifeanyi Okafor and the beautiful Ibiyemi have been together for a while now.”
“Well, it is my pleasure to inform you all, that by the special grace of God, in exactly two months from today, we will be joined together as man and wife.”
“Madam where?” The driver of the taxi leaned across as he spoke to her through the passenger’s window.
“Fafunwa Street.” She tried her best to get some kind of Nigerian accent on it. A tough endeavour.
Sparrow woke up and assessed himself…
He was alone on the bed. He looked at the sheets. Floral print and cozy. A dream? He shook his head to clear it. Definitely not a dream. He was in a hotel room. His maga had come to pay. He smiled contentedly and threw himself back on the pillows. Then a sharp intake of breath and…
“Hmmmmm!” the smell. The awful smell. Sparrow looked around with an expression of fear on his face. Was there a dead body in the room? Was the oyinbo lady a murderer using him as a front in Nigeria? What had he gotten himself into? That smell. Oh the smell!
Then he heard the sound of the toilet being flushed. He was overcome by both relief and disgust. For one, he was glad he wasn’t involved in the mass murder of the modern era. On the other hand…
“Wetin you dey chop??!” Sparrow yelled in the general direction of the toilet as he scampered off the bed and dragged the sheets off with him to cover his nose. He couldn’t even be bothered to speak his phony attempt at English.
“You chop live fish wey come die inside ya belle? Madam wetin be dis???” He yelled. Alicia composed herself in the toilet. Damn. The stupid man had to wake up. She hadn’t gone since before she’d boarded the flight to Nigeria. She’d been here two days now and this morning, her bowels finally behaved. “Damn,” she muttered. “It really does smell like dead animals in here.” She scrunched her face up one last time. Then she opened the door to the toilet.
And greeted him with a smile.
“Good morning love,” she chirped.
“Hmmm. Is that how American womens use to greet their boyfriends? With hot Igbe? Sparrow couldn’t help but use the Yoruba word for ‘poop’. This was a lot to take in. For one thing, all his preconceived notions as to what white women were like had been completely shattered by Alicia Smith: she was tough, she was alert when you tried to scam her, she didn’t have that much of a problem with local cuisine and worst of all – as he had just learnt the hard way – she shytted like (if not worse than) the average Nigerian.
Alicia walked to the wardrobe where she’d kept most of her things. Some things were as yet unpacked and still in suitcases, while some others were arranged on shelves in the wardrobe. She picked up a bottle of perfume. “Heat” by Beyonce. She gave the bottle a once over and was headed back to the toilet to try and ameliorate the situation.
All Sparrow saw were the four letters on the glass bottle. And he went crazy.
“So as this tin smell reach, you wan carry heat join the matter??? Abi you dey crase?! Na kill you wan kill me sha?”
Alicia just stood there. Stunned at his outburst. Sparrow moved and quickly snatched the bottle from her hand. Now he whispered:
“Na God go punish you!”
Ifeanyi was walking home. He decided to close his pharmacy early today. A lot was on his mind. The wedding was drawing ever closer and he was making plans and trying to put things in order for himself and Ibiyemi his bride to be. He’d checked off a few things already. The next thing to cater for was the medical test. Being a pharmacist himself, Ifeanyi knew the essence of the testing for couples about to wed. He knew a reliable friend who ran a lab where he could get affordable rates.
The issue was that he really trusted Ibiyemi. Granted, she may have committed some indiscretions in the past but clearly she had turned a new leaf, he thought. She also had some unsavory and unhygienic habits but still… who was a saint? On some level, it appeared to Ifeanyi that once he shoved Ibiyemi into a lab for testing, it was akin to him calling her lifestyle and choices into question. Almost a breach of trust in fact. The first time he’d broached the subject, she had also seemed reluctant. He didn’t push any further then and now he was wondering whether or not he should bother still.
He was now at the entrance to his room. He took out his key. Ibiyemi was probably home but he figured she’d be sleeping at this time. It was a few minutes past seven and Ibiyemi would often nap around this time so that she would be fresh and sprightly when he came home – normally around nine-thirty. He stuck his key in and turned. As soon as he turned the handle, he heard moaning. Ifeanyi feared the worst…
Instead, he was astounded by what he saw rather than angry. There was Ibiyemi standing in the corner of the room. One foot on the bed, fully clothed in jeans and a t-shirt…
And scratching away at her crotch without a care in the world!
Ifeanyi’s bewilderment turned to chagrin.
“You can’t even greet me?!” He bellowed. In reply, she sucked in air through clenched teeth as she basked in the sensations her fingers were creating as she itched.
“Oooooh,” she shuddered, “Anyi, sorry… oooh. Welcome…” Ifeanyi was at once by her side yanking her right hand away from where it was. Ibiyemi’s face registered her displeasure.
“What is it now?” she groaned.
“What is it? What is it???? What are you scratching eh? Pig. OId pig!”
“But Anyi, it’s sweeting me…”
“Why won’t it sweet you? Old woman carrying craw-craw! Why won’t it sweet you?!”
“It’s not craw-craw joo. Leave me now!” Ifeanyi shook his head. Disgusted. He didn’t release her hand.
“I’ve been warning you about your dirty habits. Once you wear pant one day, remove it and change to another one. Change your pant! Change your pant!!! Is that so hard? You wear, you wash. You wear you wash! Look at how you are scratching now. Look at yourself!”
“Oooooh. Ifeanyi, I’ve been changing pant joo. The one I’m wearing now is new sef. I bought new pant last week.”
“Oh… so if it is not craw-craw that means you have carried disease abi? Ibiyemi, are you a fuck-licant?”
Ehn? What? Fo-kini?”
“Fucklicant. Applicants look for work, republicans look for political power. Ibiyemi, I put it to you that you are a fucklicant!”
“Ahn ahn. What kind of accusation is that? What is the meaning of this?”
“Oya come let’s go. Let us go now!” Ifeanyi finally released her hands from his grip and walked briskly to the door. He made to open it.
“Go where?” Ibiyemi quizzed.
“To the lab of course. Mr. Enyi’s lab.”
“For what now?”
“We are going to test you for everything.” Ifeanyi began to list them with his fingers as he expantiated.
“Cough, catarrh, fever, typhoid, HIV, gono, cut-cut, staphylococcus, scratchy-lococcus, every ‘coccus’ in this world! Before you’ll make me scratch on my wedding day. Ibiyemi! Ibiyemi!!”
She was ignoring him. She was facing the wall. Still scratching…
Thanks for reading. Please drop your comments below. For those new to #43F, I write it with @cikko and you can catch up on the previous episodes here. Cheers.