THE HOBO AND THE DAMES

I hate weddings but there seems to be nothing as ridiculous as a middle-aged local woman in a cheap brown iro and buba rocking to ‘give it to me - da prince’…it all happened at this Muslim wedding (they can be such a drag), only God knows how I happen to be there…oh FYI, she knew the words. Ah! That definitely caught ma attention, but it was short-lived.

While discreetly nursing a can of shine shine bobo (illegally ofcourse), I shifted my gaze to this hobo with a ‘I AM DEAF, PLS HELP ME’ placard hanging from a rope on his neck eating hungrily from a crowded plate…dragging in air with the same pace he was gulping down huge morsels of what seemed like a mixture of semovita/eba (it was hard to tell) complimented with huge chunks of vegetable. He’s gonna choke anytime soon, I thought as I concluded with another large swig.

Three kids, one in same matching native attire as the rocking ‘mama’, stare at him, intrigued. The hobo coincidentally looks up, his soup dripping hand halts mid-air, surprised, he holds their gaze then smiles awkwardly at the trio. The hobo’s smile widens, showing yellow teeth with vegetable draped on the crevices of decaying gum, Frightened, the kids scurry off, he chuckles as the hand proceeds to its destination. 

Half of the food gone, he decides it’s time to down one of the three ‘pure waters’ in his front. KWAM 1 blasts loudly from twin speakers (he succeeded in knocking the Mo‘ Hits member off the chart)…unconsciously nodding his dirty dreadlocked head gently to the music, his eyes catches the green-veined huge cream tits that is trying extremely hard to pop out of  the tube-tops of two bleached out girls chatting in fake UK accent as they exchange photographic poses. Here comes the grin again, he licks his charred oily lips sloppily…the food can’t be that delicious.

Their excited giggles dies out as one of the girls notices the soup-messy hobo staring openly, after notifying her friend, they both assume a shocked, disgusting expression as they immediately suspend their blackberry photo shoot. He widens that heinous grin and spices it up with a wink…he’s still bobbing his head.

Ugh!…Pschew!…comes out alongside the disgusted looks the girls gave in return. Unfazed, with a snort he returns to his meal.

Three more huge morsels to go, one of the three kids drags the dancing mama over, unwilling to part with KWAM 1’s Fuji music, she gyrates her hips while trying with no avail to convince the kid, all was well. She stops, both her gyration and her soothing when she sees our hobo, who is now grooving a little too hard to the music, his placard doing the African dougie on his neck. She goes mute with surprise, the lower jaw drops south.

‘Hey!’…she hollers.

The hobo stops immediately and…oh God, not again, the dirty grin spreads out once more. He holds out his placard with a stained hand.

‘He can’t hear‘…one of the girls offers.

The woman looks at her incredulously.

‘Don’t blame her, she can’t read‘…the other girl nudges her friend…