BY THE L♥VATORY SIDE

CREDIT:www.clker.com

If not for the fact that stomach upset is nearly as painful as having your balls stepped on or having menstrual complication, I would have wished that we both have it under the same conditions so we meet again.  But whether stomach upset or not I am still waiting by this public lavatory like I have been doing for the past three months hoping to see her just one more time.

Daavi’s  Gari and Beans was extra delectable earlier that afternoon; the oil was so  red like my dream lady’s lipstick, the beans was round and shinny like her eyes and the Gari ,OMG, was so white and refined like her teeth. As for the fried plantain, I just could not wait to have my tongue around its soft, beautiful skin.

Before I could mention my name Drew, I was on the third plate with my bill soaring higher than the money in my pocket. But since Daavi perfectly understood the mathematical concept of remainder or carry forward, I did not have to worry about the bill. All I had to worry about was how to get home just in time to watch the Oprah Winfrey show.

*Belching*. I belched so loud that Dela, the baby swaddled at Daavi’s back woke up screaming. “Sorry little one, blame your mother’s delicious food” I whispered as I  tried to put her back to sleep but she wailed even louder. I stopped and put the GH ₵2.00 part payment under a cup on Daavi’s stall and jumped into a cab, belching even louder. *Belching again*

Half way through the journey, I began feeling like the Biblical Rebecca, when she was pregnant with Jacob and Esau; there was rumbling and scrambling here and there in my stomach. For a moment I thought it was Dela getting back at me for rudely interrupting her sleep but I noticed the seatbelt strapped across my stomach was also guilty. So I removed it.

At first the driver thought the foul fragrance was radiating from the Korle Lagoon because we had reached that area  but upon driving 200m past it and the smell still lingered on, he got suspicious, rolled down all the windows of the car and stuck his head out briefly for fresh air. He turned to look at me but I quickly looked away and started singing Shaggy’s “It Wasn’t Me” as though that was the song I was listening to via the earpiece in my ears.

Just about another 200m, the worst happened; we were stuck in a heavy traffic. The pain increased, I started sweating not like a pregnant fish but like a woman in labour whose water has broken. I loosened my belt I took off my tie, my wrist watch and even my glasses but still the pain wouldn’t subside. Nature was calling and I really needed to answer the call or I would regret it.

Then I did the unthinkable. I opened the door slowly and run out of the cab with one hand holding my glasses, phone and tie and the other guarding the body’s gate of no return just in case the fickle matter wanted to escape.  Surprisingly, the driver did not chase me. I guess he was happy I did not soil his car just because of Gh₵1.50.

image source: www.ghanasan.wordpress.com

I was lucky. The third building I saw was a public lavatory. Without paying attention to the sign at the entrance or minding the caretaker who calling me to stop I entered the female section. And there something happened that made the throbbing in my belly vanish but for a while.

I bumped into my dream lady; a lady whose lips were as red as Daavi’s oil , eyes round and shinny like  the beans, teeth so white and refined like the Gari and  skin ,soft and beautiful like the fried ripe plantain.

She screamed and dropped her hand bag. After helping her put her comb, make up kit, shower cap, flip flops, diary, phone and all the unimaginable items that had fallen out of the bag due to the crush, I apologized.  Instead of raining insults on me for being at the ladies’ cubicle, she smiled and gave me tissue and asked me to hurry up assuring me that she would be waiting for me. 

A lot happened in the “labour ward”; the sounds alone could be a hit if recorded and sold. I came out sweating but very relieved. “Aahh Fresh air!”, I whispered as I tucked in my shirt. I put on my tie, watch and glasses ready to meet the lady whose beauty could dissolve my pain. But when I stepped out she was gone. 

I tried catching up with her via the route the caretaker had directed but I could not find her. I waited for three hours that day and have been waiting around the same time each day for the past three months hoping to see her again but no sign of her.

All the regular patrons of that public lavatory now know me. Some after listening to my story conclude that I am crazy and others think I am just lost in love. But before you also judge me I have a brief announcement to make.

If you see any lady whose lips are as red as Daavi’s oil, eyes round and shinny like her beans, teeth so white and refined like Bawjiase Gari and skin, soft and beautiful like Daavi’s fried ripe plantain, tell her I am waiting for her  by the lavatory side. 

DEDICATED TO MY DUDE , ANDREW TETTEH OF www.andrewtetteh.blogspot.com ,WHOSE LOVE FOR BEANS AND GARI INSPIRED THIS STORY AND MY MUM WHO ACTUALLY SELLS BEANS AND GARI.