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Let Desmond Crack you Up!

Let Desmond Crack you Up!

Growing up, we had the rare privilege of always being cracked up by our younger brother, Desmond (pictured above). He is a natural comedian and will regularly submit jokes to this blog. Continue reading to see his story about hunger… rotf!

Never never never never never never… we do not know about uncles but never go to an Aunty’s house with an empty stomach and you have the other motive for visiting except the obvious. We bet you, you will “pick your shocks” or better still “your shocks will pick you.” Either way, there will be some picking. As you may have noticed, there are two types of hunger. Deep research and explicit library archives provide for a third type of hunger. Huh. Anyways watch out for our post on the types of hunger.

So we arrived our Aunt’s house on a Saturday morning working tirelessly and back “breakingly” until when she made us stop. You know how it feels when you think you have seen a gracious and kind woman? She wasn’t she isn’t and she will never come close to being that gracious and kind woman because of what she did to us on this day.We were so hungry and a hungry man is not only an angry man but a dying man.

Our Aunt kept engaging us in conversations but we were too hungry to talk. So we had to find a way to keep her quiet. After working and working, we went and sat on the chair hoping that they will fill our empty stomach as a welldeserved reward. Instead our Aunt got dressed and hurried out saying she was late for her “contry meeting”. Women and meetings!

Her going did not make us lose hope. We were sure she had instructed her children to serve us some food. We waited and waited but no one told us the words we wanted to hear. We were expecting something like, “Will you eat rice?” or better still, “There is fufu and eru!”. No one made a statement and it didn’t seem like they were going to say anything even in the next hour!

So we mustered courage and spoke, “Errrrm what did you cook today?”

With the multitude of people that were in the house, the stutterer chose to answer: “Is is… rice bu..bu..but mummy our our sa… sa… says that no.. bobo….bobobo oh…dy shud go… gogogogo to to the..po po…”

We slammed the door behind us, stumbled home and begged for garri from our neighbor.We soaked the garri in a bowl with the lone cube of sugar we had left and swallowed it rapidly. Then we lay on our bed and as we looked at the wall, we said, “NEVER!”

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