Mehn, this fuel scarcity is biting haaarrrrrdddd. I am not sure I have seen any fuel scarcity that has lasted this long, or been as intense as this since I was born. No light, no fuel, leading to no water. The whole thing is just depressing.
My mum is cranky, my brothers are annoying, and even my sister is getting on my nerves, all the way from her husband’s house.
Due to my recent resort to ayuverdic obsession, in order to achieve healthy hair, I found myself having to thoroughly rinse my hair this weekend. When after 20 or 30 minutes, I was still rinsing out all the mask and clay, to make sure nothing is left behind, my mum started screaming
“Anna, you know there is no water. Why are you wasting water since morning?”
I did not answer. I just continued, because I mean, I can just stop in the middle of the washing and start replying her.
“Anna, you heard me o. Do fast, and stop wasting water. Your hair did not contribute 1 naira to the 140 naira a litre fuel I had to buy to pump that water o.” she continued her harassment.
“Ahn ahn, mummy. Will I now finish the water?” I said, the sound of my voice muffled by the water dripping down my lips into the bath tub.
“I know you. Only you will use water three people are supposed to use to wash all their clothes to wash that hair of yours. Your hair is like mattress that soaks all the water in the world. Please leave that bathroom, now before I come to drag you out.”
I didn’t talk. I had yet felt another dried mud on a part of my hair which needed thorough cleansing, so I knew I still had some more minutes to spend in the bathroom. And I hadn’t even done my ACV rinse or tea rinse!
She continued. “I swear if you finish that water, I will personally make sure you pay for the next fuel to pump another set of water o.”
Chai for this woman to continuously harass me this way, the social amenity issue must be biting her really hard.
After some more statements of harassment, I was glad that I was able to finish washing. As I was about to do one more overall rinse, the tap gave a large gurgling sound, which indicated that the water had finished… or more like I had finished the water.
I was in deep soup!
My hair had put me in trouble with my mum – once again!
I just wanted to do this over and over again, till I probably exploded.
“Haa, this water couldn’t even wait for me to step out of the bathroom before it set me up.” I thought.
I dried my hair, but my mother did not even allow me to do my LOC procedure on it, before she used her voice to drag me out of her room, and thrust a 25 litre keg into my hands. “Now go and look for fuel, madam.”
I angrily stormed out, wondering what to do. I have never bought fuel in my life. Why should i? I don’t have a car, and my mum and brothers sort the ones for the generator out.
Anxiously, I called Dimeji, who told me not to panic. I stood outside for about one hour before he came, and we drove to one filling station, and queued for over 4 hours to finally buy fuel. It wasn’t even funny, but at least, the suffering was endured in the company of my sweetheart.
I finally got home, and dropped the keg filled with on the verandah before walking into the living room.
As soon as my mum saw me, she didn’t even care that I had stayed out for so long. All she said was “hope you have bought the fuel or else, you are going back out there!”
“What kind of mother is this?”
Or maybe I should say “What kind of hair is this? Always landing me in trouble.” *sigh*
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