Have you ever gone to a Nigerian social gathering, and suddenly wished you’d stayed home and not showed up, in the first place?
Well I have!
I attended a social gathering that was supposedly for networking. It was nice, filled with hard working young Nigerian men and women. One tiny problem, everyone looked alike; they all had their certificates or professions mapped on their foreheads with no personality!
You know what I mean. Now, we (proud Nigerians) are hard working people, we love life, and we love to live it. However, something has been bugging me for the longest time, and It’s time I asked a simple question…
Why are we so UNIFORM?
Have you not noticed? At social gatherings, 98% of the ladies have fake weaves (usually almost as long as Rapunzel’s hair), makeup looking like they just came from a face painting contest (looking like clowns), attitude as if they’ve been beaten and warned not to talk to strangers (even if na them dress up and drive 50 miles to come find husband O). The only thing that comes out of their mouths are: “well, I’m in Med School.” They have no personalities, they won’t even be nice or smile at a fellow sista! They’re so programmed that even if you ask these ladies: “what is your father’s name?” They will respond: “hahaha, I’m in Med School…”
The men nko, oh boy, the men! They are standing around in corners, with their often bushy (uncombed/unbrushed) hair, all of them have a Ralph Lauren Polo shirt on (with fly-collars and a Bluetooth ear piece on one ear), clumped in groups, talking amongst themselves. Maybe because they’re scared to step up and approach the drag-queen look alike(s), or they just don’t know watin “social gathering” mean. If you feel me say AMEN!
And I stand in my little space just watching everyone. Body language, eye connection, fake smiles, one is scratching her stinky-greasy weave, the other one is bad-eye-ing another girl that looks better than her, one dude is talking about soccer, while the other is checking his cell phone (that has no reception in the area) for the 20th time e.t.c.
And don’t be the new person who enters the room; you will be the new exhibit on display for the next five minutes. Everyone (and I mean EVERYONE) will stare at you and size you up. The ones wey go judge you, go look you and detect say you get 3 parents, you be igbo girl, and you wear a size 6 shoe, you must be 25 years old, used to date their best friend’s papa-brother’s-pinkin’s-aunty’s-son’s-cousin, in 1999. Worst of all, she dares to not be a doctor? She’s an economist? What taboo! Yet, they don’t know your name.
It’s time to grow up and be human for a second. We wonder why we no get husband/wife? Well, you need a personality makeover! No one wants to be with a “Zombie” *in my Fela accent*. If this is you (and you know it is), give that weave back to lady Gaga, tone down the makeup (it’s ugly) and use colors made for black women. Fellas, step up and talk to that chick you like, be RESPECTFUL, try not to ask stupid (LAME) questions. Be yourself! You don’t owe anyone any explanation!
Variety is good!