| superstitious man of habit! |
| Posted on 19/04/05 at 07:09 by NGONGE |
Every now and then, normal daily tasks grab ones attention for taking longer than usual to complete. When one cries, it takes so long, and so many tears are inexplicably shed that one ends up suffering from dehydration! When one visits the toilets, the act of reliving oneself (from either end) feels like an eternity, and, in my opinion, is bound to cost a stone or two in weight. Sometimes, after a bit of the usual exercise in the gym I find that Im sweating more than is customary for such an activity in such a short space of time! Even (kids in the back might want to shut their eyes at this point) Sex has a queer and irregular habit of lasting longer than the internationally accepted standard of three minutes!
Yesterday was one of those days. To the best of my knowledge though, I did not partake in any of the above activities. Yesterdays abnormality was to do with the walk to work! On any normal day, it takes me ten minutes (give or take a couple of seconds) to get from my house to the station. Yesterday was not, a normal day.
Im a superstitious man of habit. When I wake up in the morning and get out of bed, I have to stand next to the bed for at least a minute, fully awake and thinking whether today is a good day for going to work! It usually is. I always rinse my mouth thoroughly, have a drink or something to eat and then brush my teeth. Most people who observed me do this think Im mad, but then, Im not really the one walking around with bits of cornflakes stuck between my teeth.
When I leave the house, I have a choice of turning left, where I could go to the bus stop and take a bus to the station, or turning right, to walk the back streets to the station. I normally turn right. I take the first left after that. I then take the second right and walk to the end of the road before taking the third left.
This left is where I had my first problem yesterday. There I was, leisurely strolling, looking forward to the day ahead and humming a mixture of Briteny's and Notorious B.I.Gs One More Chance songs! When, I saw a group of bin men who parked their truck in the middle of the road and were kicking the hell out of some driver! I panicked. The sight of aggression always makes me panic. I was not necessarily scared, but I was wearing a suit and slip-on shoes. Such garb, all wise men would agree, was not made for fighting, despite my infinite courage and limitless stamina.
I turned around and took the next left instead. This was out of character for me. I was in new territory here. If anything went wrong today Ill know its because Ive taken the wrong left. However, since it was a choice between walking amongst fighting men (meaning a sure change to my day) or the possible risk of ruining the rest of my day; it wasnt a hard choice to make.
The street was empty and every peaceful! I carried on humming my song and looking at the various cars parked on the sides. Just as I reached the middle of the street, I heard a voice! The words were not clear the first time; they were low and muffled. I carried on walking. I heard the voice again! I froze! This time the words were very clear. It was a womans voice and the words were excuse me!
Now, those two words, when put together, are amongst the most polite words in the English language. However, depending on the way theyre uttered and the person saying them, they also can be two of the scariest. In my case, and here nobody wins any prizes for guessing, it was the latter! This woman (for a woman she indeed was) must have been a former headmistress or something. When she said excuse me, I instantly knew that she meant come here right this minute, young man. I had no choice but to walk back to her and hope whatever she wanted will not take long. As I walked back, I quickly checked with myself if I did anything wrong as I was walking down this new street. I didnt spit, throw chewing gum, tissue or kick any cars. I had nothing to worry about.
I also had time to have a quick look at my caller and ascertain the level of her hostility. She was an old woman, in her mid to late seventies. She was wearing a white ill-fitting nightdress (with tiny pictures of blue ducks all over it). The dress stopped just above her ankles and on those, she had odd colour socks on top of old slippers that the colour had faded from, probably, in the early sixteenth century.
I tentatively approached her and nodded. If I could see her face under all those wrinkles, I could swear she was frowning. She grunted and said I need your help, young man. I meekly smiled, shrugged my shoulders and didnt reply (as Ive always done with all my head masters in the past). She said well, arent you going to offer it?! By now, I was already staring at her hair and wondering how she managed, at her age; to still have a few black hairs left! In my panic at being caught staring, I replied offer what?. Her voice grew louder and she said your help, young man, your help. I quickly nodded, her eyes seemed to narrow and her wrinkles thickened! She asked me to follow her and walked back into her house! I panicked. Im a young (ish) black man and shes a white, probably widowed, probably living alone, probably holding millions of pounds in a secret hole in her mattress, old woman! Men like me and women like her only meet in the crime pages of newspapers or scary stories of wicked witches. Walking into her house was a risk either way and I had no witness to speak up for me when the police came or call the missing peoples phone number if Im still not out in a couple of days!
She clicked her fingers and said that she doesnt have all day (Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble). I managed to follow her in while keeping my right hand close to where, if I had one, my gun holster would be.
In her living room, there was a big box. It was so big that at least two normal size fridges would fit in it with space to spare for a family of mice! I knew that I couldnt carry that box alone, even if it was empty. I told her so. She said, Im not asking you to carry it. I need you to fill it for me. I panicked! I mentally prepared myself for the coming trick that she was bound to pull. I am not going into that box no matter what sob story she concocts to convince me. What if I listen to her and she locks me in there, then when I eventually, out of exhaustion, fall asleep, she fills it with boiling water and starts chopping onions on top of me?
She said, do you see all those books on those shelves over there? I instantly replied in the negative and assumed my tried and tested defensive posture. There were signs of irritation in her voice as she said, pay attention, young man. I straightened up and did as I was told. We spent the next fifteen minutes emptying shelves and organising books in alphabetical order! This old woman was a perfectionist and she was barking orders, as if I were her son or servant! I tried to tell her several times that Ill be late for work and that I really had to go, but she would just ignore me and bark more orders.
When we managed to empty all the shelves and store them all in the box, I was relieved and ready to go. She though, seemed to have more work for me. She said, we have to go to the bedroom now. I almost fainted. I told her that I really have to leave because Im late for work. She said, this would not take a minute. I thought, I bet it wont! But, I still insisted that I couldnt. There was no way Im going to walk into a single womans bedroom. What if, while we were in her bedroom, her brain finally gave up (which is not a farfetched possibility at her age) and she madly started shouting RAPE?
We went to her bedroom. It was very nice, clean and grand but it smelled of urine. I saw her looking at my nose, so smiled and inhaled. There were a couple of small boxes under her bed that she wanted me to take out (is that where she hides her money, I thought). I took the first box from under the bed, took it downstairs and came for the second box. She followed me downstairs the second time.
Back in her living room, she wanted me to empty the two small boxes into the big box (in alphabetical order again, for they were full of books). This time, I had to put my foot down and tell her that Im already late for work. She tried to bully me again but saw my trade mark steely determination and knew not to provoke the lion. Two minutes later, I was out of her house and on my way to work, having promised to return in the evening to help with all the other boxes.
Ive been back to her house twice already but I still think that yesterday (and today) is one of those abnormal days that dont take place so often (even though its now my habit to walk down her street in my way to work! Im a superstitious man of habit after all).
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