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A loquacious Mgbeke at the airport

By Emeka Oparah

The moment I walked into the VIP Lounge of the ramshackle Departure Hall of the local airport, Lagos, I noticed her-a fairly young woman. She was on the phone. Forever on the phone!

Typically, I walked to the end of the lounge so I could see everything and everyone, especially every new entrant (read VIP), a habit I formed on campus, when boys were boys and troublesome. Ighotago? As soon as I settled down I focused on this woman who was talking at the top of her lungs. That got me really irritated, first, because it was so unladylike and, secondly, it is an open, public place for goodness sake. Why would someone, man or woman, worse for a woman, be discussing money, millions of dollars and pounds, business, properties, Banana Island, Abuja, UK, US and even Monaco.

It is rather unusual for a lady to be engaged in fake conversations just to impress, but something told me the lady was just jiving. She didn’t look well-off at all. Even her mobile phone was low-end, what we call ULCH (Ultra Low-Cost Handset). She kept talking and talking, on and on and on. Trust Air Peace, they delayed the flight for two “good” hours and so I was left there to endure the loquacious rants of this empty vessel of a woman.

At a point I started suspecting she wasn’t talking to anyone. I mean, she wasn’t the CEO of Airtel (that’s my boss, you know) and none of the mobile telcos had a female CEO. Where did she get the amount of airtime she was blasting like that talking absolute crap. She went as far as telling the “person” at the other end of her line “I don’t like Banana Island”. And I’m like negodu, an imp saying she didn’t like Banana Island, the most expensive slum in the whole universe. Onye ala!

Chisos! This woman was on the line for almost 2 hours. Again, I was wondering which network could let her talk for 2 hours, except probably Airtel. So, I got more curious. I mean, it would be nice to meet one of our High Value Customers, if indeed she’s one, but perish the thought! That device she was talking with was too pedestrian. I got up, walked past her to check out her shoes and bag and probably get a whiff of her fragrance. Zilch! Everything was anonymous. Inglorious bastard!!!

To cut the story short, this garrulous mgbeke, took the call up on the flight-and the hostess, a pretty gifted sweetheart had to beg her to drop so the flight could take off in peace. Do you know this clown still pled for a little more time to conclude her conversation. Chai! Many people took an interest in her, but I was definitely the keenest of them all. I “followed” her to Abuja. Her travel bag was rubbish. Cheap made in China something. She had no one waiting to pick her in a Bentley or swanky SUV. She stood in the sun haggling with cab drivers. Meanwhile, she was talking about millions and mansions and expensive cities.

I didn’t know babes have joined in this business of yarning dust to attract hailings. If I was a mugu, I could have been tripped by her silly gist and I’d be snookered. To imagine she paid N3,000 to sit in the VIP Lounge shows she’s schooled in the art and science of self-deception and illusion. Fooooolish woman!


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