Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Let me tell you a story...

I love the art of storytelling and consider myself a storyteller of sorts...well, everyone is to some extent. A while ago, I thought about some experiences I have had over the years and then again yesterday, some of those stories played in my mind. I thought, why not share them, after all, they are what I consider great stories and they sure are interesting, or maybe I'm just biased because I am the storyteller. So, here are the stories and no, they are not works of fiction.

When I was a teenager living in Nigeria, my family lived a few streets away from the church we attended. Since church was so close, there was almost no excuse to not attend every event and all scheduled services. Now, a few streets over, there was this vacant house and some bank workers moved in. Young guys, handsome and rather successful. Let your wandering minds rest please for I was a teenager and I was not interested in them rather, they were more like uncle type figures. I remember a particular Sunday after church, very much like other Sundays. My sister and I were walking back home from church when one of the guys pulled up in his car and offered to give us a ride home. We hopped into the car and began chatting with him when my sister who was a busybody opened up the glove compartment and reached in and pulled out a little cardboard box. Let's just say it wasn't a box of candy. She brought out the box in plain view before she realized what it was, after which the chatty ride home in the fancy car turned into one in a hearse.

Several years ago, probably seven or eight now or maybe more, I remember coming home one day to find my grandmother and sister hunched over the trashcan in the kitchen, meticulously sifting through a day's worth of garbage. Now, if you know my grandmother, she has a habit of having a favorite grandchild of the moment and the sister who was sifting through with her happened to be the favored one at the time. As soon as I walked in, I immediately made inquiries so I could join in the search but my grandmother was determined to keep the details of the search a secret and her eyes ordered my sister to not breathe a word. After asking with no response I left them by the trashcan and made my way to the stove. On the stove was a huge pot of crab peppersoup. I love all kinds of peppersoup and I love crabs to a fault. The soup was made from blue crabs and it is no secret that when blue crabs are cooked, they turn a pinkish kind of orange color with hints of white. Also, this color eerily looks like dentures. My granny enjoyed these crustaceans seeped in the peppery broth so much that...

Have a very Happy New Year my friends!

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