Nice legs.

One day my  friend and I had  visited some  small country villages near Knutsford.  We were walking on the high street and soon we were swallowed by a crowd of shoppers .  The atmosphere was buzzing like the bees at work . Here and there we could hear shrils of laughter.We had almost visited every shop and most of the time we were satisfying our eyes as three quarters of our time was engrossed in window shopping, we laughed as we see things that amuses us or catch our imagination.  So it happened that we met a couple who were both bulky in size, walking hand in hand, and  going opposite direction with  us.   Silently, the couple managed to draw our attention towards them. It began with my friend, “Aha…ahaa,”  he began laughing.  I looked at him with curiosity. “Whats laughious?” I asked him with my colloquial language. “Can’t you see?” he said pointing his finger in the direction of the couple. “What?” I demanded?  “Read,  read that couple’s T-shirts,” he said with emphasising tone.  I strained my eyes towards the couple. I first saw nicely scribbled words on their T-shirts . I started to read the woman’s T-shirt, it was printed in front and  it read: “Nice Legs.”  Then, when I  read the man’s T-shirt  whose words were printed at  the back. The words  scribbled at the man’s T-shirt paused a question to the woman’s statement. The words read: “What Time Are They Going To Open?” “Ahaa,aaah…aaaa,” I laughed continuously,  and my laugh was so infectious that it drew a large crowd to join, that some of the people they just laughed with me but with no clue of what I was laughing. Fortunately, my friend managed to draw their attention as his finger continuously pointing in the direction of the couple, and soon their was an explosion of laughter and even the very couple laughed with the crowd, knowingly they were the centre of the attraction.


“Aaah…ahaa. It’s you baba VaJoe, My husband”

Lizzie was a working hard woman, and always worked an extra mile to fed her family. This day she had just coming from the fields whereby, her husband, children and her have been cultivating their maize. It was nearly lunch hour, when the finally decided to call it a day,  when on a normal day they would have continued till evening time. But the husband of Lizzie had come from town the previous day. The  separation  had always made them feel hunger for each other. To satisfy the well being of their family, the two had decided the that the husband would always work in town to earn some cash whilst he wife stayed in rural areas working in the fields to sustain the family substantially. It worked and they both enjoyed the sweat of their labour as a family.

At home the wife, Lizzie, cooked food for the family. The children gathered and ate their food from one plate, whilst the parents shared their food from their own platter. Quickly after eating the wife packed up the used utensils for washing up. She asked the children to go and fetch some water on a nearby well. The woman bent down like all other African women in rural areas when washing up the plates and pots.  She was very much engrossed as she enthusiastically washed the utensils, and little did she know someone was observing her, admiring her golden revealing thighs.

It happened  so dramatically,  that her dress was lifted up, very high that it revealed the  flesh beneath. Shocked, the woman  leapt into anger. “Who..oo are you, to lift someone ‘s wife dress?”  she flared rapidly. “Don’t touch me, did you hear me? Or  I call my husband.” she glared. I said, “leave me alone,” she kicked and scratching  violently. All along, Lizzie, has shouted angrily  without looking at the person who has grabbed her. When  she finally looked at the attacker who was still holding her as a fugitive,  she was perplexed and smiled. “Aaah….ahaa, It’s you Baba va Joe, my husband,” she uttered softly and letting her head rest peacefully in her husband’s loving arms.