Are We to Follow as the World Goes? – 2
Femi Akintunde-Johnson
We promised last time to dive deep into a few of our recorded shame – clips of short videos documenting the current mental and emotional, and even intellectual, status of our young folks, dubiously tagged entertainment. A thoughtful review will also indicate how they relate to one another, and how they express themselves in public… would you dare to imagine what could be going on behind the scenes?
All the following examples were published in 2023, and our first take is from 26 July, on Nons_miraj where a man of average height gives his ‘spec’: “I want my lady tall, slim, and sexy…normal, let the arse (hands demonstrating big buttocks) dey there…any colour…chocolate”. The opposite gender replies: “Actually, I’m short, so I want my man very tall, handsome, hardworking, mature…when I say mature, I mean physically mature… in character…in mindset…I don’t want any young guy. And I want a guy that can take care of me”.
On facing each other, the disappointment is instant. No wonder, he rates her three over 10 – and adds his reason: “She’s not tall, although she’s beautiful…she’s not my spec…I don’t want fat girls (hisses)… because they’re stressful… (Then he goes on to explain the ‘stress’ in a language that suggests acrobatic sexual acts would be challenging – all with a straight face): “this one fit kill me overnight”.
When she is given the chance to rate him, it is “one over zero… Actually, he’s not my spec… how can you come to a blind date with slippers…you didn’t look at yourself before coming out?” And the exchange goes southward.
“Take a look at me (she turns around for more examination)… Look at my skin…you can’t afford me… you look like one of those errand boys …like those ones that use bicycles to buy fuel (for their bosses)”.
Of course, the man will not lie low – just as caustic. Yet, after all the barrage of odious prattle, the hostess perfunctorily goes on to ask the worth of their apparel, and then…: “Is it a Yes or a No?”!
Somewhere else, on a roadside with banana plants in the background, the “blind dates” give their specs to the sporadic Nons-miraj (6 July). She: “I love petite guy, dark-skinned, tall…”
The hostess interjects: “Petite and tall!?”
She insists: “Yes…like you’re small boy but tall… God-fearing…he should be able to take care of himself”.
And he (admittedly much older and seemingly avuncular) submits his spec: “I like her not too fat, not too thin…and she has naughty vibe. She can do the ‘Daddy…’ yes, I like that thing.”
The strange couple is a perfect set-up for defining ‘cantankerous’. The lady is svelte, in a lovely black and red long dress; while the man is in a crappy mafia-like cap, oversized grey jacket (he calls it a coat), worn over a baggy pair of pants and a black T-shirt.
Unsurprisingly, her first words on seeing him arrive with a dismissive wave of her hand: “Sorry…sorry.” The man snaps off his party-bopper white goggles, as if stunned at her looks. And she continues, amidst cheeky giggles: “He’s not what I’m expecting… what is that thing?” She points, while laughing, at his pair of well-worn grey trainers.
Our man’s retort is a dart: “Are you blind? If you’re not blind, you’ll see the quality of what I’m wearing now.” And the naughty hostess adds: “Seriously, it’s not a joke…what is this? You’re coming to a hunt game, and you’re dressed like this…”
He rebuffs both: “I don’t like someone talking to me anyhow… I came because I desire love…what I’m wearing is not anyhow dressing… See her hair…it’s even gummed…it’s not even balanced… my coat is $15,000 (to general laughter; of course, he is not laughing)… High Fashion brand… the pants $12,500…the cap, Louis Vuitton…$6,200-and-sometbing…”. The girls are now beside themselves…but he’s undaunted: “…the sunglasses, Versace 7k pounds…”. The hostess has to blurt out: “Are you really a mechanic, or you own the mechanic shop?”
“Yes, I own a mechanic shop…my shoe is emphh (indistinguishable muttering)… I don’t like the way she’s talking to me…there should be courtesy…”
But his supposed partner is unrelenting: “This is what they call Ngbeke feeling funky…and you expect me to say ‘Yes’ to you?
He comes back hard: “…is it a dog’s chain you’re putting on? You’re not even my type… I’ll not even rate her zero… how will I rate this kind of thing? Why are you turning? You don’t have back, you don’t have front…empty barrel, making noise… This is my type (pointing at the bemused hostess oozing sexiness).”
And then the needless question: “Is it a Yes or a No”. He goes first: “God forbid! I’d rather not marry… even if I come to this earth 20 times, and still meet this Nwope, I’ll never…under my bare foot… (stamps around) I march am! Then, she counters: “C’mon, I’m above your limit…” and more expletives.
On a 14 June skit, in Abuja, the man wants a “tall, chubby, curvy and wife material”. And the lady: “fine, nice man, tall, chocolate in colour…he must have money…” The last word is well-stressed.
On sighting each other, heads start shaking. He: “She’s nothing like my spec… she’s two over 10 (rating).
And she: “He’s one over 10, please…”
He: “It’s a no-no…
She: “It’s a no…Uber official? I don’t want…
He: “Do you know how much I earn?
She: “How much is my hair? You cannot take care of me…”
He: “How much is your hair?”
She: “100k!”
Hostess: “How much do you earn?”
He: “120k” – without breaking his strides.
Hostess: “So what kind of guy do you want?”
She: “I want a sweet boy… a Yahoo boy is okay… Odogwu…”
The man smiles in awe: “I want a wife material…not a street girl…”. The noise level goes up again.
A skit by Calebnorth_official (24 August) turns violent as two strangers go up each other’s throats. But it starts calmly.
She: “He’s okay (as per her spec)… him dey ok… physically, looks, but him pocket… I don’t know if him get money…
He (stammers) tells her to turn; she does. “I like her back very well…” (unabated stammering).
She, to the host: “Why you come bring me somebody wey no sabi talk…? I no go fit…even if he get money…”
He: “I wan manage am…see what she dey talk…? You dey craze… thunder will punish your Papa…”
She: “See man wey no sabi talk they abuse me…”.
He drops his bag…to fight: “Talk again, I go slap you.”
She: “Person wey suppose beg they (para) for me.”
He: “Me beg…? In fact, you be Ashawo…” to which she instantly moves to deliver a high slap. He pulls off his shirt, preparing for battle. The lady goes for his throat, and like a mannequin, he falls down immediately.
Lady on top of man: “Don’t ever try call me Ashawo again…” Sad but hilarious.
How many can we capture to pass the dire message of our slide to a wildly fragmented society? And how many articles would we need? What about the familiar ‘Sugar Mummy’ called Lady B who wants to “change the life” of a much younger man, Tomiwa, if he “is well behaved and performs well”…until she finds out he has a wife and two kids. Lady B cannot stand the idea of a family-oriented gigolo, unlike her dream man, someone called Sly. She not only pays off Tomiwa for showing up, and trying to woo her with two bundles of naira cash (denomination unconfirmed)…she also doles one bundle to the anchor of the show (‘Scottlamar comedian’), encouraging him to get a better vetted and attractive ‘plaything’ for her…in the mould of Sly!
Or the girl who jumps from her “unserious” boyfriend to his uncle, both living in the same house, and no one the wiser who owns her pregnancy. Or the man who travels all the way from Malaysia for the final wedding plans with his Facebook fiancée, only to meet a disdainful girl who does not hide her amazement that her online man is much older than her (14-year difference) and “he looks as if I’m marrying my father…it cannot work!”. Or the slim guy that wants a big woman, and on meeting his spec becomes enraged for one small matter: when they are asked to hug, the big girl has the temerity to lift him up. “Why did she carry me up? I tell am make she carry me up?” And that’s the end of the ‘love game’.
Thousands of this stuff fill our daily existence, seeking to dilute the humdrum of life’s woes and trying times, as seen in the millions of followers and viewers who gobble this ‘entertaining’ morally bankrupt confetti on Facebook, Instagram, Tik-Tok, etc. A sigh.
