‘Shakara and football na bastards’ by Eketi Edima Ette

“Have I ever gisted you of what shakara did to me one time like that? I haven’t?
Oya, let me gist you.

Once upon a time, when I was in SS2, we had after school lessons at a primary school close to the school.
I also had a crush on one boy like that. We’ll call him Boy-Wey-I-Like.

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My friends and I, Fine Girls Gang, often went for the lessons as a group.
One particular day, when we got there, some boys were in the field in front of the classroom, playing football.

I never liked football until I was about eight years old. To me, it was that boring game that usually came on the television after the WWF wrestling on NTA. I didn’t understand it and saw nothing interesting about men chasing a ball around. Not when my heroes Hulk Hogan, Two by Four and The Kid had just finished thrashing their opponents.

But I grew older and started watching football with the boys, in order to avoid cooking with my Mum.
It was a perfect bonding time with Dad, who taught me all the football lingo; offside, free kick, throw in, foul, penalty etc.

And just like that, my love for football was born, grew and continues to this day. I loved it so much and showed some promise at it, that I had a brief stint as the captain of my secondary school Green House football team.

*
Nna meehhn! See digression.
Back to the gist.
*

As the boys were playing football, the girls strolled or sat in cliques talking, crocheting or reading romance novels.

You know how you’re 15 years old and you think you’re sexy and you know everything and the world is at your feet?
Yes, that’s how my friends and I felt. So, instead of taking the road, we deliberately sashayed across the field, our intent being to distract the boys and become the cynosure of their eyes.

When I spotted Boy-Wey-I-Like among the players, I increased the swing of my hips. I went from catwalk to donkey-waka. When he smiled at me, I almost twerked with joy.

Thin as a wooden ruler, my newly shortened and fitted skirt hugging my non-existent butt and hips, I moonwalked across the makeshift football field.

Some of the boys ignored us and went on playing; others let out shrill catcalls.
The rest ordered us to get off their field. Pure bad belle. Boys that can’t do simple admiration….are those ones boys? Mtscheeeeew!

I’d almost made it to the other side, when someone kicked the ball in my direction. It hit the ground, bounced and rolled to a stop at my feet. Knowing that Boy-Wey-I-Like was watching, I picked it up, set it down again and lined it up for a shot.

On seeing this, the boys began to cheer me on, chanting, “Kick it high! Into the net!”

Oh, the adrenaline that rushed through my body at those cheers. Gingered and swaggered and eager to show off my skills, I bent forward just so, set my right leg at a forty-five degree angle, looked down at the ball, looked up at the goalpost, winked at Boy-Wey-I-Like, took a deep breath and let loose a hot kick.

The ball sailed into the air.
Then I heard it.

Tiiaaaaaaaaaarrrrhhhh…..

I neva esperrerit.
One minute, I was watching the ball sail over our heads, towards the goalpost, the next, breeze, fresh breeze, was caressing my bumbum.
The hotness of the shot had raised my leg so high, the demure slit at the back of my skirt tore.

A shaft of shock and dismay ran through my slim frame.
The students behind me, who now had an unrestricted view of my bumbum, burst into uproarious laughter.

I wan die!

Tears gathered in my eyes. I prayed for the ground to open up and swallow me. It didn’t happen.

I turned the skirt so the slit was now by the side. It had split all the way to the waistline. My fair thigh was on display. I firmly gripped the waist band to avoid it completely slipping off and tried to hold the sides together with my other hand.

Everyone who was now aware of my predicament was laughing.

I prayed for those laughing to become blind. Nothing happened. In fact, my Crush, was laughing the loudest. I prayed for him to be struck by lightening. It didn’t happen.

Now wailing, I limped and waddled sideways off the field, like a duck with a bad case of itching kraw-kraw.
Half-naked, I got to my friend’s house and repaired the skirt.

I learned my lessons.
1. No matter how hard you try, you cannot die from embarrassment.

1. Never play football while wearing a skirt. Tie wrapper instead.
2. If your crush ever laughs at you when in an embarrassing situation, don’t wait for lightening to strike them. Kill him on the spot.
   Else, he’ll grow up to become a very handsome, kind, considerate, and industrious young man and ask you out and you can’t say no. (I’m not saying this is what happened o. Stop thinking things. Aproko like you).”

(Meme by Onuora Onianwa)

By: Eketi Edima Ette

cyber Agbero

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