Must Read: Legend Of The Fucckers (18+)

Episode 7 years ago

Must Read: Legend Of The Fucckers (18+)

The Wonders Of Alomo. . .


The craziest things done are always done under the influence of Alomo; and one of such is fvcking my cousin, Joyce.


Do you take local herbs?

I do. I take local herbs; shekpe, monkey-tail, roots, tree barks, ginger and all sorts of local herbs. I take them purposely for my health; that was the way I was raised. But I discovered the wonders of local herbs few years back and ever since then, I don’t leave them by my side. And when the modernized form of the roots was introduced to the market in the form of Alomo bitters, I fell in love with it. It was like a miracle in a small bottle; both for my health, for getting high and for an everlasting libido.



It happened long time ago, and it was on the occasion of the burial of my grandma (God rest her soul, Ezenwanyi the first of egbema, ugo eji aga mba).



As expected, it was a grand burial as her son was the Chief of the community. My family was largely a polygamous family, from my fore-fathers to my grandfather, and down to my old man. So when Ezenwanyi died, the extended family scattered near and wide came down for her burial. It wasn’t surprising when I came back for the burial and met a lot of uncles, nephews, aunts, nieces, cousins, half-sisters, quarter sisters and a whole lot of relations I had not seen before.


Joyce was one of them. She was obviously older than I was. She was the first daughter of her mum, who happened to be Ezenwanyi’s step-daughter married to a Benin man and grew up in Abuja without knowing how to speak any of her native languages; Benin nor igbo.



Joyce was a super-extrovert! I came in for the burial two days to the burial, and within hours, I learnt everything about her. She took to me, following me about everywhere I went to. She claimed no one had really payed attention to her ever since she came for the burial two days back.



She had tried mixing-up with other cousins of us and they all were snobbish. She wanted to learn igbo language within days, she wanted to learn to cook igbo delicacies, she wanted to learn igbo culture, she wanted to learn everything about igbo. There were lots of work to be done in the house, getting ready for the burial. But there also were lots of hands helping out. Since my dad was the chief, all the youths devoted themselves to ensuring things went smooth; so I had enough time for myself, and for my pest Joyce. I took her around. She introduced herself to whoever asked that she was my cousin. The definition of cousin I was thought at primary school did not cover my relationship with her; but since it was easier to be called cousin than to find a name for your grandmother’s step-daughter’s daughter, I flowed with the cousin deal.



When we were exhausted and tired from walking around and gisting all day, we retired to the house. It was already late with all the rooms occupied. We the young generation were to sleep on the big open palour, on the rug, with no foam or pillow. Some of my brothers and cousins that were home-grown went to their friend’s place to sleep. I had lots of friends I could easily sleep in their place; but Joyce insisted I wasn’t leaving her to sleep with other strange cousins.
After showering, we stayed in front of the palour and talked. I brought out my alomo as usual and started sipping. She asked what was that I had been sipping all day. I showed her and asked if she cared for any and she declined. After drowning myself with the remnant of my alomo, I was high enough to sleep.



We went inside the palour and found a convenient spot among other cousins sprawled on the floor. It wasn’t long before I started feeling sleepy. I’m naturally a careless sleeper as I tend to kick and punch at anything obstructing my stretching space. My first blow landed on her shoulders and she let out a loud scream. I woke up and found her staring at me.



“whats that?” I asked.
“you just kicked me!” she exclaimed.
I apologized and told her it wouldn’t happen again. She was still squeezing her face, so I held her close to path her back.
“Ndo!” I said in my native dialect and she started smiling. I kept my hand there, robbing her shoulders lightly and caressing her back. She didn’t move, neither did she object. That was when funny thoughts started entering my mind.