With Alan Kay
“I just left the hospital and resolved to head straight to this place, to cool off my nerves after so many terrifying sights in the wards that I visited.”
“So what exactly was your mission in the hospital? You went for treatment? Or took a lady Ronaldo there for pre-natal abortion?”
“Ogbonna, wonder why your mind is this corrupt. Well, I was there to see Charles. I learnt he drank 13 bottles of beer, at three sittings cumulatively. So, in the morning, he claimed there was some tintinnabulation at the back of his head, as if someone is ringing the church bell, to call the faithful to worship.”
“Yeeeh!!, Kay, that’s aggravated headache, arising from over-bombardment of the medulla oblongata. Things like that happen once you fire the nerves on all cylinders, through excessive drips of beer quinine.”
“Quack doctor, I hear you. So what’s on the floor? Where is your container, the owner of this dynamic beer parlour? Tell her to give us a bottle each. Even if we are still going to drink 13 bottles each, a journey of one thousand years begins with a step.”
“No be me and you. That’s Charles’ prerogative. So apart from Container serving us beer, she should, on my sponsorship, bring two plates of steaming hot pepper-soup, either dominated by catfish or its tilapia sibling.”
Hmmm… Ogbos, why do you call this woman Container? At least, why not something like, Mama Shade, since that is the name of her beautiful and well-endowed daughter?”
“Alan Kay, are you from the moon or the outer space? Can’t you behold her downward poise and confirm the story that there is a great container? Oh, I’m disappointed.”
“Please, don’t drag me through the mud of sin. I’ve made a personal resolution to do away with philandering, and re-focus my energy on promoting morals among the upcoming ones.”
“Good. But why did your resolution fail to address the issue of beer shelling. At least, you should be able to resolve on abstaining from beer drinking for six out of the 12 months of the year. That way, I would say you are a strong man.”
“Well, if that is the way you want to measure strength, I would rather be weak. To abstain from beer for one week is invitation to nausea, as I will be left with soft drinks. Leaving it for a month will precipitate dizziness which can lead to stroke. To now abandon it for upwards of six months is no more than self-immolation or suicide by method.”
“I trust you; I think I share your sentiment. Were it not for beer shelling, half of the Nigerian population would have been singed, owing largely to the bad situation of the economy.”
“Though some people have been expressing optimism about the populist programmes of President Bola Tinubu, we can only look straight ahead in deep contemplation, as we’ve heard similar songs before.”
“Kay, you know what? The best way to move to greater heights this year is to develop the real sectors, and then work on the security situation of the country, to make Nigeria investor-friendly.”
“Ogbos, the great economist from across the Niger! Good talk on the economy. You also spoke about improving on the security situation. But have you forgotten that we are still trying to recover huge sums of money looted by many past office holders?”
“Yes, let the trial and recovery continue. We will also inject fresh funds into the defence circles for immediate purchase of arms to tackle the Boko Haram insurgency. At least, the country is not bankrupt, we are only broke.”
“You are funny the way you use the word ‘we.’ You think they know you exist? Much less consider you in decision-taking? Please, my friend, let’s finish off our bottles so Container can shell us with more bottles. While I cannot predict the number of bottles we are going to drink tonight, what I can confirm is that none of us will drink 13 bottles.”
“Yes, Kay, the other time, you said you saw terrifying sights in the hospital, when you went to check Charles. What are these sights?”
“Oh, I saw many patients on the bare floor, as the hospital, a teaching hospital, does not have enough beds, even though there is more than enough bed-space. The lucky ones lay on mats. But they, including the ‘princes’ and ‘princesses’ on bed, are all united in one thing: they are wracked by excruciating pains, as most of the medics, especially doctors, were not around.”
“What happened? Where had they been to?”
“I learnt they went to enjoy their weekend. They definitely had thrown their Hippocratic oath to the dogs, which is going to form my story in the newspaper, for the next edition.”
Okay. So, was Charles able to get a bed?”
“Yes, lucky Charles got a bed through the help of a doctor he had once bought four bottles of beer and two plates of pepper soup for. (Laughter)””
“See life, see pay-back day. Yeye guy; if he hadn’t got a bed to sleep in, I would have suggested we gather 13 empty bottles of beer, to form his bed.”
“Bad guy.”