Feeling Station – a Corper’s Story

Today is Thursday and it’s for CDS – a weekly ritual that permits corps members in my vicinity to visit town for the mundane weekly clearance or other local NYSC activities. Many corpers look forward to this but not me. I detest the CDS like a worm detest salt.

Yet, every Thursdays, I am compelled to navigate the snaky road that connects my PPA town to Oye. The road itself is beyond confusing and and long. Not like it includes a lot of turnings but the many bends and hell-dive at times could make one wants to throw up. To make matter worse, this tortuous trip cost #150. #150 to have a stable 3G network is not much. And again, there are many beautiful girls NYSC saved from the tortuous enclave that I call PPA. These Thursdays are the only days I get to see them.

There’s even one of those “fine face” that I had interest in. Though I can’t remember her name – I never asked – but I vividly remembers she has this slim shape of a lady you can fold and kidnap to the mountain-top. The first CDS I saw her. She was constantly laughing or smiling. In my secondary school days, these are the kind of girls we call “laughing gas”.

There is also this thing about the way she smiles. Like a lady waiting to be headhunt for a toothpaste advert. The locks on her hair constantly trespass to cover her left eye, making her temporary look like beautiful cyclops. And on her parts, she regularly flung the recalcitrant lock back to its place. Her long locks, droll all way from her collars to the two firm mountains on her chest. This reminds me of the two mountains that guide my new home. The ones anyone rarely climb. That Thursday, the lady was wearing a head cover. By the next, she was dressing to kill and “me” would like to save my allawee. Iya Kafaya already warned about this breed of Devils.

At the CDS, the LGI 1 gave out six recharge vouchers. Like the typical Ikire boy who dread darkness, I was charging my phone when the digit was being called. I don’t think I missed anything. Thinking like this would definitely make surviving the torture of going back to the village that’s now my new home.

Normall, I alight at the only filling station in my PPA town whenever I’m heading home. There’s this lady attendant there bearing Monsurah. She dresses nice and acts nice to me always – a trait shares by many indigene of this town. Her niceness however cannot mask her Kiwi-grade black complexion that would have made Ogra Love feel like a more fortunate man.

In one of our discussion, she confessed to me that she feels dark – in the inside – as black seems a lesser description for the sinful polish on her skin. I patiently listened as she told me her nickname was “Monsura Asake, aje omo lemomu”. Literally translates as “Monsura Asake, the witch daughter of an Imam.”

Somehow, I found her nick sexy. And the urgent way she runs back to continue her gist whenever she had to attend to a customer constantly jolt me back to the presence. I think she’s the definition of naive and nice. But all I wanted to do was charge my phone and check out my Bet9ja tickets.

One day, she told me she was thinking of bleaching her skin but she was afraid, that what if the lower layer was also black, won’t she look like a true monster. For the first time, I smiled – then burst into a laughter. She was really amused by the sound of my laughter. She laughed out loud too. I do hope this only ends here at the filling station.

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