‘Another Telephone Conversation’

The rent was okay but location, a problem:
The landlord swore he did not live in the same house.
Like a parishioner before the priest, I had to confess.
“Baba, I hate long story! I am a Nigerian.”
Silence. Silence and self-contentment of a Lagos landlord.
The voice came back perhaps with a long native chewing stick with spittle dripping.
“Did you say an Ibobio or Ibo?”
…the line is breaking.
“I mean, are you from Anambra, Imo or Enugu?”
“Hold on!”
Another call I thought.
A stench from the nearby open gutter near the yellow umbrella
Yellow rickety buses screeching, raising clouds of dust.
Humiliated by long contented silence.
‘Give up? Or
Continue to hold on for a reply?’
I chose the latter.

A Thousand Miles Begins with a Single Step
It was a Blessing in Disguise