Let Desmond Crack you Up!
Published Feb 18, 2014
Updated Apr 27, 2017
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Growing up, I had the rare privilege of always being cracked up by my younger brother, Desmond (pictured above). He is a natural comedian and will regularly submit jokes to this blog. Continue reading to see his story about hunger… rotf!
Never never never never never never… I do not know about uncles but never go to an Aunty’s house with an empty stomach and you have the other motive for visiting except the obvious. I bet you, you will “pick your shocks” or better still “your shocks will pick you.” Either way, there will be some picking. As you may have noticed, there are two types of hunger. Deep research and explicit library archives provide for a third type of hunger. Huh. Anyways watch out for my post on the types of hunger.
So I arrived my Aunt’s house on a Saturday morning working tirelessly and back “breakingly” until when she made me stop. You know how it feels when you think you have seen a gracious and kind woman? She wasn’t she isn’t and she will never come close to being that gracious and kind woman because of what she did to me on this day.I was so hungry and a hungry man is not only an angry man but a dying man.
My Aunt kept engaging me in conversations but I was too hungry to talk. So I had to find a way to keep her quiet. After working and working, I went and sat on the chair hoping that they will fill my empty stomach as a welldeserved reward. Instead my Aunt got dressed and hurried out saying she was late for her “contry meeting”. Women and meetings!
Her going did not make me lose hope. I was sure she had instructed her children to serve me some food. I waited and waited but no one told me the words I wanted to hear. I was expecting something like, “Will you eat rice?” or better still, “There is fufu and eru!”. No one made a statement and it didn’t seem like they were going to say anything even in the next hour!
So I mustered courage and spoke, “Errrrm what did you cook today?”
With the multitude of people that were in the house, the stutterer chose to answer: “Is is… rice bu..bu..but mummy my my sa… sa… says that no.. bobo….bobobo oh…dy shud go… gogogogo to to the..po po…”
I slammed the door behind me, stumbled home and begged for garri from my neighbor.I soaked the garri in a bowl with the lone cube of sugar I had left and swallowed it rapidly. Then I lay on my bed and as I looked at the wall, I said, “NEVER!”
