“Us
Africans have a problem....” The man dribbles down his stripped
shirt and straightens the belt on his bulging kacki pants. His
muscular hand firmly clenches his Mosi brand beer as his reddened eye
balls gaze with affection at my sunburned peeling bare arms. Oh,
this aught to be good I chuckle to myself and raise my eyes up
past the cracked wooden stool and glare up at this flirtatious
harmless buffoon. The only place in town with a fridge and cold
soft drinks HAS to be a bar, I
giggle and glance
through the tattered azure floral print cloth. It is hanging over the
shaded doorway. Pandemic The Magic Bicycle is waiting patiently in
clear view outside under a orange tree in the midday humidity.
“Us
Africans have a problem, we like your skin, I want to marry you.”
Mr. Pants-A-Tingling (P.A.T) lovingly slurs again as the older
protective gentleman behind the dusty gray wooden bar shifts his feet
and curiously peers on. His reserved elderly pink lips seem ready to
pounce on his drunken buddy if need be.
“I
am sorry Sir, but I am not sure I want to do that” I politely smirk
with as much soft sincerity as I can muster as the elderly gentleman
barkeep laughs in support.
“Will
you marry me....?” Mr P.A.T. continues on deeper into matrimonial
hot pursuit, somersaulting over cumbersome formalities such as
knowing my name.
“Casper,
my husband wouldn't like that much” I grin as my pinocchio nose
begins to grow and tall tales of Casper (the ghost), my fictitious
husband begin to rise.
“Your
children then, I will marry your children!” Mr. P.A.T stumbles
forward and perseveres deeper into never never land. I am now
chugging my cold coke-cola trying not to laugh, chock or spray soda
out my nose.
“I
will tell my unborn children all about you Mr. P.A.T., nice to have
met you.” I sarcastically utter as I head for the door and hop on
Pandemic for a quick get away. Minutes later while cycling, as the
heavy stench of testosterone ricochets off my panniers, I
realized how brilliant WOW (Women On Wheels) co-contributor HelenLloyd truly is. She counted the many marriage proposals while she
cycle toured throughout western Africa. I'm definitely gonn'a
need a calculator, I reason to
myself as I carry on crossing from East into West Africa.
4 comments:
Once again great work stay safe hugs from Australia.
Gosh, lucky ya. Proposals after proposals. Haha. "Me Gombo Chief,.. Marry me!" haha
Anyway, stay cool and safe. Ride on Loretta .
Hmmmm. Cuba was where I received the most marriage proposals. Sounds like I have more to look forward to when I finally make it to Africa.
P.S. I get quite a lot of internet proposals, too, from people who haven't actually even met me! I find that quite odd.
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