As I lay in bed two nights ago, he kissed my fingers, he kissed me once again on the skin between my thumb and finger, finally he kissed me on my cheek before whispering sweet nothings in my ear. But it wasn’t a whisper, more of a buzzing, a pesky mosquito had found its way into my room, but I give it points for the way in which it had devoured the upper half of my body, only in a Francophone country would the mosquito be so romantic. It was too late to get my room sprayed so I switched on the A-C and covered myself in the blanket. The following morning I called down to reception to get my room sprayed and it was done. That is service.
Last night on the way home, well as usual travelling on an African airline it was like travelling by tro-tro. Normally, when your on an international airline the first thing they do is spray the plane with bug spray. It’s path of the course, who knows what kind of malarial infecting creature has decided to hitch a ride home. Air Nigeria, well you travel at your own risk. To be honest it escaped me when we boarded on the plane at Douala. I was too busy wondering why I had been given a seat number and then been told to sit anywhere in coach. I was also paralysed by the cold air which was so biting annoyed that there were no blankets on a three hour flight. It was when we stopped at Contonu that I could see something flying around my leg area. So I called the attendant and asked if he was going to spray the area.
He said “no mam, we don’t spray. It is only a tharty minute flight”, I could come down with malaria in 10 mate I said, but to no avail. Although I did notice that he had sprayed around the area he was seated at. Well at least one of us would have a comfortable flight back. So I spent the next 30 minutes holding vigil and praying that I didn’t get bitten, and that we landed safely (got into a bit of turbulence which wasn’t pretty).
After a thud and a being thrown forward a bit we arrived at Murtala Muhammed International Airport. We got there at 8 and the flight was supposed to leave an hour later, but of course, this didn’t happen.
In my previous life as a case manager, we prosecuted drug mules, or as it is called stuffers and swallowers. When you hear what these people go through, I wonder why they go through all that. Getting the drugs into the body is bad enough but then you are playing with your life until you get to your final destination, that’s if you get to your final destination. Being caught, well that’s probably the best case scenario, those packages are in the body’s system and it is like a ticking time bomb until finally it comes out, if there is a delay in getting to your destination. It is between you and God as to whether your time will be prematurely up. On an African airline, the flight may be only an hour, 2 hour tops but with the delays that may occur, well you could have gone to Europe and back.
It had been an hour after we were supposed to board and we were still waiting. Then one of the passangers needed to go and pray, so they had to find the right location for him to be facing the right direction, that took some more time before finally it was home bound back to Accra. I was so shattered I totally ignored the attendant disturbing me to take the dry cake and biscuit. He looked like he was going to be there for a while so I gave him a wave, to say no and did not open my eye until the thud onto the tarmac at Kotoka (I really don’t understand how these pilots cannot get the landing right).
So I’m back home now, dad went to a meeting so stayed at his brothers last night, smother decided at 11pm she wanted to fill me in on her week, the body however was weak and her voice kind of faded into the background as I fell into a slumber.
I have taken my car for a wash, she’s kinda dirty and sitting at my spot. The lady who runs the place was kind of worried that I haven’t been here for the week, probably and her fridge is stacked full of lucozade.
Normal service has resumed.