“This is where you live?” said Dingaan looking at me astounded when we arrived at my place after the gala dinner. “Yes.” I replied
“How do you study with such hullaballoos?”
“Uhm, I study at school. The library.”
“Okay. Let me walk you to your door-” he said unfastening his seat belt
“No it’s alright, I will be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded. Are you sure? I live here!
“Okay, I will call you.” he said
“Alright, and thank you for tonight. I had a nice time Dingaan.”
His driver opened the door for me. He watched me as I went through the gate. I waved goodbye and they drove off.
I strolled through the complex pavement thinking about how my life was about to change. I envisioned my blooming future in a few weeks and definitely counting. My own Apartment, A new car, American Swiss on an Ornate Gold dressing table and a new wardrobe fit for a Barbie!
I noticed Omowumi’s curtain shifting. I shook my head; bless my friend. As always it was a party at the house. It’s a party almost every day! The place was jam-packed.
“Hooo, Ethiopia’s Barbie you are back! How was Dingaan?” she squeezed me against her huge breasts laughing. Oh how she smelled of puke. It was Portia standing at the door. She was smashed and staggering, holding a glass of wine in her right hand.
“What do you have in that brown bag Ethiopia!” she shouted. “Just food, doggy bag.” I responded
“What?” of course she couldn’t hear me. The music was too loud.
Omowumi came running and grasped my hand; – “Come! Come with me. I want to hear!” she said. We rushed to her bedroom, and she closed the door behind her.
We sat on the bed. “Barbie, open your legs!”
“My friend, we didn’t do it! He likes me.”
“Abi!” she yelled. She was intoxicated too. “I’m seeing him again soon. I can feel it…this is it my friend!” I said beaming
“Dingaan my friend? He-he!” she clapped her hands together
“My friend!” I said grinning
“Oh My friend!” she shouted now in stitches. “What now my friend?”
I always looked forward to Omowumi’s ebullience especially when drunk. We share such a special correlation and friendship.
“You should go online now, now!” she said trying to contain her laughter
“Why?” I asked
“Your rich miss celebrity he-he-he! ….her nudes are out! She is there naked on the internet!” she shouted with her coarse Nigerian accent
“Now P-O-R-N-tso Abi!” her ribs were about to break. “Are you serious? When did they leak?”
“I don’t know…that ashawo got what was coming to her! Walking around like she is all that. I just got back from shooting and-”
“I should call her.” I said standing up
“Call her for what? For who abeg? You ode don’t value sef. Leave that ashawo! I want her to hate herself first!”
She raised her glass as if making a toast; – “I say burn, burn, burn to that rich tart!” she exclaimed.
“She’s my best friend Wumi; she must be devastated. I should call her later then.”
“Ehen? What if she is the one who posted them? That ashawo would do anything to trend you know! Her pretty boy Deejay is also there…pity he is covered.” she cracked up again. “Wumi Haba!” I managed a laugh too
“My friend. I am tired of hearing you complain about that arrogant girl! Burn, burn, burn!” she raised her glass again,-“Now come. Let’s go drink my friend …don’t vex over that tart; come now.” She said standing up.
She was staggering. I then said -“Wait let me put this bag in my room.” but she was out of the room already. Screaming and singing along to Nigeria’ Flavour’s “Nwa baby ashawo”:
Waka, waka baby (oh yes).
Wuru, wuru baby (oh yes).
And I go tell my mama (oh yes).
And I go tell my papa (oh yes).
And I go tell dem say (oh yes).
You be waka, waka baby (oh yes).
You be chuku, chuku baby (oh yes).
Baby sawa le-
Sawa, sawa, sawa le,
Sawa, sawa, sawa le …..Ashhh.
I moved my long legs with the loud sound heading to my bedroom. Nigerian songs were abruptly big everywhere, even in South Africa.