This Changed World

By Fredrick Idehenre

I just woke up to my phone (whether it was morning or the midday I wasn’t sure) and I saw many “Happy Sunday” messages. “O so today na Sunday?” I wondered.

None of our usual reminders are there anymore. Incase my mind strayed and my mental calendar becomes distorted, the Church almost behind my house usually reminded me, by their “Quire Practice” on Saturday evening, that tomorrow was Sunday. And this would be reinforced on Sunday morning by the voiced pre-service activities of early risers in the church. If it was a lazy Sunday for my family we would just glide in the spirit, enjoying every or most bit of their praise and worship sections. But we would definitely miss that Sunday’s message as uniquely served by our real place of worship.

Now that lockdown, as being experienced in Lagos and some parts of Nigeria and the world, has locked everything else up, every day seems like Monday, Tuesday…or Saturday.

No more natural morning nor night. Everything is now everything. You wake up and sleep. You sleep and wake up. You sleep anywhere it met you in the house. No pallor no bedroom. Perhaps, only the kitchen has to remain undesecrated!

You hunger just as soon as you have eaten. You hunger for everything yet you hunger for just nothing in particular. Everywhere is dining – on the bed or on the WC.
Successive meals served stops tasting as nice as it had ever been. You dare to create your own new recipe so you can eat something new. You end up cooking the most distasteful meal ever, that would even incur the wrought of inmates.

If you were unlucky, like yours sincerely was the other day – and is still nursing – you’d secure a second degree burnt from hot oil. (Because I wanted to take my children to Meager Chicken eatery inside my house!)

Such is what the Chinese Virus has caused us. I didn’t add that most of our Eves have become so or too enhanced in their body proportions, possibly casting doubt in the earlier charm they radiate (You do not have to quote me guys; it’s your cup of tea. Drink it.). God help us!

Well, if that heavy body has been one of your family’s utmost aspirations, please accept my congratulations in earnest. I will join others to be at your place in December or sometime in the wee days of the new year! Otherwise may we not reckon an increase in the number of persons in our homes any time so soon, because a cup of garri and akamu may never be as cheap as a pre-Coro Nigeria.

The other day, I involuntarily teased my banker neighbour, Ahmed, of excessive increase in his mid posterior. Whether that was offensive to him I really can’t tell. But very trimmed and admirable Ahmed had suddenly grown big bele too. How would he not, when he wakes up at 4 am so he could be off to work at 5, to be back only at a God-knows-when? Never really having the opportunity of sharing proper communion with his family at breakfast, lunch or dinner, except on rare weekends.

This Coro has also helped in no small way to test the integrity or otherwise of man’s promises of eternal fidelity to his spouse, family, friends and sundry. Husband now truly know the woman he’s lived with like strangers in the past ten years or more; vice versa. She now knows that he snored as a result of his hectic day’s job. She’s after all not actually as “unkempt” as he had been aggrieved about; she only has hardly had time to keep up with shaving the interior divisions as regularly as he wished. The children are now more emotionally fulfilled, sharing quality moments with their parents together. They even pray this moment will last forever. You don’t blame their ignorance. Do you? When real hunger strikes their reggae will turn to blues.

But not to worry friends. Last last, we shall all be fine again, and of better quality – like good gold.

Happy Sunday, and do have a Coro-free week.

By Fredrick Idehenre