Kuku’s Nest. Episode 02

Uncle Ex:

“Let me teach you to drive”


“With a Jeep? So I’ll now jam something and… Alakoba!”

Sir Beau:

“Girl come and learn to drive na”


“With a Benz? So I can use all my money on petrol? Why not fear God?”


*sitted at Daddy’s feet, facing him*

“Daddy shebi you know I’m old enough to drive now. When would you start teaching me?”


*jaw drops*

“You didn’t forget that discussion? Since 2004?!”

*Dupe frowns, looks like a child whose ice-cream suddenly vanished *

“Aah Modupe mi, ma binu.”

*reaches hands out, cuddles her*

“You should have known I’m too impatient to teach you to drive”

*Song about a broken heart resumes in background*



Kuku’s Nest. 01

*Rain is threatening with heavy winds*
“See your mummy. I told her not to put the groceries in the corridor! She said she wants to sort it out first. Now she has gone out and rain wants to fall. Come let’s carry these things in”
*Goes to fetch the grocery cartons from the kitchen. On her return, Dad has taken some things into the sitting room. A sound at the gate.*
“It’s like you mummy has come”
*Dupe goes to fetch Mummy from the gate. When Mum gets in:*
“Modupe thank you! I was scared when it got windy. Because that your daddy will just say he warned me and leave it there for me.”
“Ah well. I just said I should pity you small”
“Oko mi -my husband-, shey you’ll please come and help me carry these bags of salt? They’ll be too heavy for my daughter.”
“You’re not serious. You and your daughter. Why not come and break my back? I carried everything inside, it’s your daughter you told thank you. Now I should… Look! Leave me alone o! Me too I have mother”
*Falls over self laughing.*


Making it Home

The sun is the orange orb in the sky lashing earthlings with heat this afternoon. I’m in a library supposedly reading, but the sweat beads covering my body have succeeded in distracting me from all such pursuits. The fans are at the highest, grass unkissed by winds stare at me from beyond wide-open windows, and I’m craving a tub. I would very much like to get out of these clothes and into a cold bath. I promise I would not close my eyes and enjoy the blissful coolness; no, I would continue reading. But wishes are not horses, and I’m left to desolate rambling on the internet.

Somewhere in the middle of my sadness I start to note Alsina’s lyrics, playing through my earphones.

If I don’t make it home tonight

Tell my Mamma that I love her,

Leave some flowers for my brother…

And I’m thinking: if I don’t make it home tonight, tell my Momma I’m home; in a tub somewhere.