The VSNL Kind of Love

I told my girl, this evening, that what we had was the VSNL kind of love. She’s the wild, audacious and fetchingly frivolous one between us. So I was ten miles totally at sea to find that she was not too oily and buttered-up by my soft soap on our joint jollification. Perhaps the ‘V’ sounded out of place. I could have pretended, for starters, that it referred to a far more delicate delight of mankind, no, womankind. But it doesn’t! Simply taking any one letter on its own demeans the raw, seductive charm of the quartet. I’ve always dreamt of the VSNL kind of love, and, now, I’m living it!

Cumstasis

You Can’t Touch This! When the Walkman was ‘in’, and every fly gal and guy had to be caught dead strapping one and singing or rapping along (though they themselves were spared of their own torment), a girl seeking recognition was overheard saying over and over again – CUMSTASIS, and, then, she’d hum the beat after that. The droning finked to every listener that she was a fake, ill-acquainted with the truth, and that she was playing Hammer’s ‘You Can’t Touch This’. Cumstasis, huh?

The Ugliest Animal

All the animals gathered deep in the forest to make a drum for entertainment. They readily found the tree trunk and bark they needed, and everything was going swimmingly. When the drum was finished, its earth hues, curvy strokes and dulcet timbre took their bestial breaths away. But, alas, it was elephantine and could not be lugged back home without difficulty. Rabbit, whose trap was always as fast as its feet, announced, “The ugliest animal is going to have to carry it.” There was silence for a moment, as each animal mentally measured its own physical appeal. Then, another animal was heard on the whistling forest air accosting Rabbit “I know you’ve never liked me. You’ll always have me do the dirtiest work!” It was Monkey. No name had been given, but it thought the cap fit, so Monkey put it on.

Close Contact

The club was packed and smoky, and stowed senseless with gadabouts reeking rank of dried or burnt grass. It was that much worse with the whiff of bitters or cheaper ethanol.

I was dancing with a girl I know and consider decent enough. It was both disturbing and thrilling to watch her gyrating with open body like she was lone-dancing in her room.

Just when I was forgetting about the nasal assault of the louts, the girl opposite belched her bile up right in my face, and bathed me in the stifling warmth of lager, stout and some mid-way digested chow.

A 17-Bedroom House!

In many folded parts, deep in the cramped closet of the rich-poor City of Accra, you’ll espy a hangar-and-a-half of a house sticking out, like a middle finger, on a dirt-tracked back road with yawning trenches crudely cut into its face by the mocking elements. You’ll see gaping gutters and little wild bush patches festering here and there. You’re also likely to see a termite-gobbled half-board of wood teasing '17-Bedroom House for Sale'!

Now, it didn’t say 17 rooms but 17 bedrooms. Does that reveal anything? Of course! The owner had in mind (assuming their mind was present) a house to live in, and not a public facility. But we know that most families that can count seventeen members are themselves a family of servants in other people’s homes. So, who did you erect this smoke mountain for – a football team? Because its sprawl is uncontrolled enough to hold a playing field. Or did you build it to house one-third of your entombed ego?

The Sum of All Relationships

How perplexing can life be! Imagine yourself in this state:

‘I trust you! But I’m unhappy that you are getting close to XYZ. I really trust you, and have no reason to doubt you, but I’m afraid that you’ll fall for XYZ, and cheat on me or leave me completely. And, yet, I trust you.’

There was a day Maya, Nuti, Eric and I tried to find a meaning of the foundation of all good relations without a dictionary. We wished to get as true and personal as possible. The theme that sounded repeatedly was ‘the peace of mind to expect that no harm will be done to you by a particular person.’ Let’s vacate the point a moment and go on to two closely related feelings, this time going by what ‘Oxford’ says.

The first has two primary meanings. One – a feeling of anger or unhappiness because somebody you like or love is showing interest in somebody else. Two – a feeling of anger or unhappiness because you wish you had something that somebody else has.

The second emotion is defined as ‘the fear or suspicion of other people when there is no evidence of this.’

Trust – the belief that somebody or something is good, sincere, honest etc, and will not try to harm or trick you.’

I reckon that there is a healthy chance of every relationship having some of all these feelings. I have come to believe that giving too much space to any one will lead to the same consequence – HURT!

If you’re still wondering what the full list is, they are Trust, Jealousy and Paranoia.

Man-ipulation

As I was about to leave home early this afternoon, a black VW Golf 4 wheeled past with two ladies in it. They boomed their music so loud that it heaved the carpet of dust on the street into the air in tune with the beat. Something must have been disquieting about their style because the metal grille across a drain leapt up to bite the right rear tyre into shreds. It took the rompers longer than present narrator to hear the tugging tyre over the stadium sound, so they only came to a stop four blocks away. Now, I ordinarily would zip over to help damsels in distress, especially as one bounced gigantic jolly jugs in front of her. But I felt just like the barbaric grille, so I allowed my genteel graces to hide in the gutter. Two ladies all dressed up with somewhere to go to would not lift a fingernail after taking a gas cylinder out of the trunk. It was rare riotous to hear them trying hard to outmanoeuvre each other by pretending not to know that the frigging black pneumatic that lay fastened before their eyes was the spare tyre. As Maxine and I drove slowly past, I caught the man, who was school-boy eager to help them, addressing his questions to the chest level of things.