BN Prose: What Am I Doing Here? by Amara Nnaji

Eleda mi o, how can my spirit sit here while my soul wanders through the streets of Lagos? A few hours earlier, it was traipsing, like Tarzan, through those Isale Eko markets and window shopping. But now, it just meanders through, peering around. 

“Which kain wahala be dis? What precisely are you searching for?” I hissed a sharp rebuke as I side-eyed her.

Then my soul turned, stared at me with an impish smile and mouthed before striding off.

“You can sit there and pretend all you want, but you know what I need right now.”

I stare out the window while cradling the mug. With a start, I realise that the cup has gone cold. 

“How did this happen?” I blurted out angrily. One minute ago, as I picked it up from the barista, it was searing hot. So hot that the cappuccino scalded my tongue and misted my glasses as I tasted it. But now, all I have is a cold cup and a tepid drink. 

“So that is it? My £4.50! Just like that. For a drink I have not even finished,” I mused as I peered inside the cup. 

Meanwhile, the ache in my leg was dispatching feedback. The cold, seeping inside its marrow, urged me to act fast. I stood up to buy another cup. Maybe cinnamon cinnamon-sprinkled latte this time. Then, as I joined the queue, I heard the unmistakable snigger and turned. 

“Why are you wasting money? You and I both know you will derive no marginal utility from that latte.”

“Ah, you are back. Did you derive satisfaction from your steaming pepper soup? And where did you get it eventually?”

“That eatery at Idejo where we go to buy food sometimes. I had yam pepper soup, and you needed to taste the aroma. Here, smell my hands and…”

I swatted her hands as the Barista called out for my order. Ambling back to my table with the drink, I burst out laughing, then quickly reined it in before dem go think say I don kolo. 

“What is funny?” My soul presses forward

“This, all this. Imagine spending more than £10 for coffee and yet, no pleasure. It’s not even like I have taken anything. You know if this were in Lagos, the aroma alone would start caressing your nostrils before the pepper soup arrives?”

“I know, right? And by the time your order arrives, you are already salivating. In fact, you would have used your eyes to eat another patron’s own.”

“Patron? Must you use big-big words for everything?”

“Okay, give me another word for patron.”

“Customer. You say,  another customer. Don’t be speaking all these your highfalutin words here, na Naija we dey.”

“Naija bi bawo?” I glance outside at the sterile grey weather.

“Ehn, is it not me and you? You know it is only the body that is here; we are already in Lagos drinking pepper soup.”

“You and who? I thought you already had your yam pepper soup? Why did you come back so soon anyway?” I glared at her again as I gulped a mouthful of the foamy latte.

“Ah, if I didn’t come back by now, you would have created a panic in here.”

“Panic?”

“Yes ke, imagine that I was still out there, roaming through Lagos and enjoying myself by drinking in the sights and sounds. You no think am? By now, the paramedics would be trying to resuscitate you.”

“You mean, I would have been …?”

“Yes ke, what are you without me? If the soul flies away, the spirit simply returns home, and they will just carry the body away.”

“I really am not in the mood for your theatrics. I just want to be left in peace.” I muttered 

“Ha ha, to do what? Keep wasting money on a drink which offers no utility? When you could have followed me to Lasgidi to eat real food?”

Taking off my spectacles, I cast my eyes towards the window, lost in thought. What precisely am I doing here? In this strange land, where the sun is very stingy, a land where the sun is more grey than blue. How did I get here? 

A cough and a stirring reel me back to the present. It was my soul. Now, she sat across from me, eyes folded on her chin, peering at me intently.

I matched her stare.

“You okay?” She whispers, reaching for my arms.

“No,” I whisper, plaintively.

“Ogini?”She gives me that I-can-see-into-you look, as she caresses my hand.

“I would give anything now for a hot bowl of point and kill from that woman at Ọgbà.”

“Let’s go home”, she stood up and pulled me into her for a tight embrace.