Who do u think u are, Stirling Moss Lewis Hamilton?

Hola peeps. No es tan malo después de todos.

The day began like any other. The man was excited at the news he just received. In less than two years he had gone from new kid on the block to the ichiban of the local scene. It didn’t matter that his profession was not as prestigious as medicine or architecture; he brings utmost professionalism to his job and most importantly, makes his clients extremely happy and that’s all that matters to him.

But he knew he was lying to himself. He still valued the opinion of Chief. Yes, the one from whose loins he was birthed, and one who had an invaluable influence on his life. Chief on one hand appeared to be the most liberal of parents, but on the other wanted his ‘suggestions’, or so he called them, followed. “U know I never chose a career path for u or any of my other children, but if u had followed my advice and returned to Nigeria when I suggested u’d have been better established by now and most likely married.” Yes, the marriage word always seemed to magically crop up in recent conversations with Chief. Come to think of it variations of the ‘M’ word were always present in conversations from as far as he could remember. “So how was ur first day at kindergarten? I hear u already have a small wife there”…….. “So u wanna have a party to celebrate ur 10th birthday? Any special someone u want us to invite?”….. “Who’s that girl that I just met? So what does it matter if she’s ur ex-girlfriend’s best friend? There’s a reason why u used that word ‘ex’.”

He couldn’t help from cracking up at his recollection of bonding sessions with Chief. He knew with the news he was about to convey his father would go through his usual 3-step response to such updates. Step 1: Joy. Step 2: The speech that invariably ends in the ‘M’ word. Step 3: Pride and the bullhorn to announce the latest accomplishment to family, friends, neighbours, total strangers, Martians, anybody.

The guy sat on the bed and stared around the hotel room that was to become his home for the next year. Switched on the TV, but there was nothing of interest blaring out at him, just the same disappointing drivel: the latest effort by a military dictator - he was glad it wasn’t an African despot for a change - on his last legs to add fuel to the dying embers of his rule, the two-timing former ruler supported by the West with overt ambitions to succeed the General, mounting death toll in Iraq, and a country trying to cope after a recent scandal involving the highest ranking female politician brought down by avariciousness. Don’t these politicians ever learn, he wondered aloud to no one in particular. As is his wont when he watches TV his mind wandered along a totally unrelated tangent. Phew, this country can finally move on from this scandal that has plagued us for what seemed like eons. A friend recently emailed a YouTube video of the blows that were exchanged in the lower house of assembly. Good thing the issue got resolved amiably else I can imagine some of our elected members spoiling for another fight. Hey, wouldn’t it be crazy hilarious if underneath their expensive clothes our representatives wore costumes, a la Clark Kent, but instead of superhero gear they donned wrestling outfits?

We could also get Michael Buffer to announce the fight: In the red corner wearing the mask (to hide her zits) and fighting for no just cause is the Representative from erm, erm, no one’s quite sure where she’s from but we know the erstwhile President has her back. In the blue corner is…..look no one cares, let’s get ready to rummmmbbblllleeeee!!!!!
Lol…now that would get folk interested in politics for sure. Oops, I gotta make a call, don’t I?

He turned off the TV to stop his mind from wandering some more and dialled Chief’s number.

Chief: Hello?
Stripper (aka Chief’s son): E ku ale, sir.
Chief: E ku ale o. Ta ni yen?
Stripper (*Thinking to himself: “I don’t get why he always acts as if he doesn’t know who I am whenever I attempt a conversation in Yoruba. Does he not have my number stored on his phone? Or maybe dude doesn’t expect to hear me speak Yoruba. Or maybe my voice sounds different when I am not speaking English…”*): It’s me, sir.
Chief: Yeah, how are u? How’s Warri?
Stripper: Warri’s fine, sir. Yeah, u know that major exam I sat for last month? The one where u’ve been asking for the results every week since? The one that’ll ensure I can sit another exam that’ll allow me practise as a stripper anywhere in the world? Well, I passed.
Chief: Thanks God. Congratulations. So what did u score, and where does that rank among others that sat for the exam?
Stripper (*Thinking to himself: “Yup, that’s my father, forever competitive.”*): With this exam we weren’t given grades. One either passed or didn’t. If it’s any indication the pass mark is 70%.
Chief: That’s good.
Stripper: Thanks. Good night, sir.
Chief: Good night. I am so proud of u, MY son.

He ended the call and stared at his image in the mirror, lost in his thoughts, not sure of what to do about the emotions he was experiencing. There’s never been a question about his legitimacy, but this was probably the first time he had heard Chief use ‘My son’ in a one-on-one conversation. An abbreviation of his first name, ‘Son’, even ‘Babbie Joe’, Chief’s favourite childhood nickname for him, he had heard uttered his entire life, but never ‘My son’. If he wasn’t so macho with rock hard abs he might have shed a tear, because this moment was a landmark bonding moment between father and son. Who would have thunk – yes, he loved the word ‘thunk’ and the way it rolls off the tongue – that the prefix My could arouse such feelings.

He said to himself, This makes no sense; two little words shouldn’t generate so much emotion, should they? Could it be because I half-expected him to follow his congratulatory messages with a speech on marriage? He didn’t, and maybe that’s why those two words, My son, resonate so deeply. Maybe for once, in a real long time, he is indeed truly proud of me and doesn’t see my life as incomplete because I appear not to have seriously thought of marriage. Aaaahhh, this is a great feeling. I don’t think any two African men have shared such a bond since Mufasa's ghost and Simba in The Lion King. Uh oh, my mind’s wandering again….

He called his mother to deliver the news of his exam results, but she already knew. It appears Chief had already engaged full Step 3 mode. He laughed at how some things appear different, yet somehow remain the same. Nothing else he could do, but tell her, “Tot ziens and God bless.” She wanted to ask him what Tot ziens meant, but he had ended the call by then. “My son sure acts strange”, she wondered aloud to no one in particular.