By Tony Ubani

Love unspoken is love denied.  And that has been the predicament of many who do not speak Portuguese in a land that is full with honey and milk. The Brazilian people are exciting and love visitors. They are also daring and make all the moves with signs but the unspoken word has hindered many moves and restricted many adventurers.

But knowing that love is like good music which can be enjoyed without necessarily understanding the language, roads have been entered and laughter and emotions created. Sabella has shown so much attention to me at my hotel residence in Gran Corona. We met in the bar downing assorted alcohol to chase out the cold. ‘’Bem Vendo”, she greeted in a sweet voice that would make David.  She was tall with figures like Agbani Darego and a toothpaste smile and immaculate teeth that must have been arranged after many years of wearing braces. I could not resist exchanging banters as I spoke little of the Portuguese I gathered in the course of staying in Portugal and covering the All Africa Games in Maputo, Mozambique and many trips to Angola with different Nigerian clubs. Her eyes lit up and she hugged me and now unleashed para terrobro indignane para  something, something. ‘’I don enter wahala’, I exclaimed quietly. More Portuguese but I ran flat but figured from the burning desire in her eyes.

The bar man was like a Daniel coming to judgment. He speaks passable English and had to be my interpreter. Like most Portuguese, nothing goes for nothing. He asked for drinks and I obliged him. After more shots of Fatferry whisky, it appeared that the drink had ignited her love mission. As I dabbled in my pidgin Portuguese, she reeled out more and laughed signaling me to go to the room. We had been warned that they come in different colours and genders.

Danger averted!
 
Communication is one of the sore points of covering the World Cup here in Brazil. It is difficult to make international calls from your GSM except you buy a call card. Reasons have been advanced that it is one way the Government monitors calls going out of the country.

My two lines, Tim, a name for the network recommended by Nigerians have become headaches to me. Imagine not speaking with my family since I landed here. Imagine not speaking to Ogas at the top – roaring Eze Anaba who does not recognise friendship or brother in the discharge of his editorial duties. Imagine not speaking with Onochie Anibeze who has decided to oversee sports with his already head-banging duties of editing Weekend Vanguard. What a massive combination and show of love and professionalism by Dagama.  Imagine not speaking with my colleagues on the desk, Solo, John and Jacob. I know they would be grumbling by now. Imagine not fulfilling promises made to friends especially those who requested I come back with a container of Brazilian hairs for them. By now, they would think I have done the Maradona on them. No. Imagine not reaching out to Innocent Anaba, Prince Osuagwu, Ehigiator, Akanwa(PE), Hugo, the best ‘criminal’ Editor Emma Nnadozie, Adeshere, et all. All those who make the newsroom of Vanguard tick. Imagine not reaching out to Helen and the Financial Controller to tell them that the money released to me would not see me stay till the end of the World Cup. With the way things are going, moving from hotel to hotel and moving to far-flung flats, the coy taxi drivers and eating all the funny food to avoid my stomach churning. Communication here is a kill-joy!