My dear Samira,
It is yet another Saturday, but this time, I am not waking up from sleep, and neither am I going to bed. I am in a trotro, my favorite means of travel, just cruising in town. I am just visiting close friends and brothers I haven’t seen in a long while. I know you may be wondering in your room why this is happening-visiting friends. Well! I promise you the shortest of my Saturday writing in the bonker called a Trotro. As Deirdre La Pin indicates, the role of the storyteller is “not to show the listener what is familiar in human experience, but what is uncommon and irregular.” I am just gisting you on some of the things we have taken for granted; things we haven’t fancy much, which probably drive the world on its wheels now.
I happened to have boarded the car from Madina to Roman Ridge. A lady sitting at a seat next to the last seat signaled me to come to sit by her when there were indeed three vacant seats behind her. I humbly obliged not knowing what was in store for me. I sat by her on a seat next to the backseat. At first, she shifted towards the woman at the far end of the seat as if to accommodate me on the seat while tilting a little with her back towards the woman and fully exposing the cleavage lying between two big rounded boobs. The boobs provocatively poked at me, humbling my slouched body on the rusty seat. They simply look like low-slung dancers waddling at me: bouncing up and down, sending an invitation to my douce eyes.
Do you remember what you told me on one of the days I visited you at Volta Hall? Aha! How will you remember your famous statement “we are free to choose.” This has been in my head for a very long period now. It has become my guardian angel. Of course, I thought it was only men of these days who were fascinated with boobs until I queried my grandmother. She proves me wrong. I am not fascinated by the female body. Hence, I didn’t give much attention to this trend until I was in this trotro and a young lady with a lot of boobs trying to catch my attention with it. I didn’t even know that was her intention. Isn’t it fascinating that a young lady could be doing this on public transport containing so many eyes? An embarrassment was an understatement!! I peeped at her intermittently as I had my eyes fixated on the dashboard of the trotro.
And to be honest with you, I have heard so many stories of erected nipples but never have I come face to face with them. Not even in the comfort of my room or in my wildest dream. Yet on this day, my eyes were fully exposed to erected nipples drooling under a light transparent dress. I don’t know if she had intentionally dressed that way (‘dress to kill’ as they call it) or if it was her everyday thing. I don’t know how you would’ve described such a situation as you have often done. But well, I have to behave and comport myself. My discomfort was noticed by a woman at the far end, and she came to my rescue by asking the young damsel to at least close her cleavage if she wouldn’t entirely cover her boobs. Embarrassing, right?
Well! It is not an easy journey when a hunter knows that they are passing through the jungle of lions, bordered by deep rivers on either side, waiting in anticipation to swallow whoever has been able to successfully pass through the lions’ den. This was the debacle I was confronted with when I jumped into the trotro. Boobs have become one of the easy conversations in town. Boobs and butts are major shareholders of social media platforms, especially Facebook, Ticktock, Instagram, and Snapchat. They are displayed, grouped, and regrouped in easily accessible formations than the tomato sellers at Shukura Market.
You can even buy them at shops, roadside sellers, and gym centers. However, those who don’t want to sweat before getting it to go to specialized hospitals. The method used is called liposuction in other jurisdictions. But wouldn’t you wonder why people have to go through these rigorous processes to have bigger breasts? The funny thing though, they called what has given us life–our mother’s breast–Sagging. They want theirs to stand as erect as the angry young man in-between my thighs. But in doing so, the once-erected nipples have been swallowed by an erected boob, making it more eccentric and superficial. Imagine a boob without a nipple. Is that one too a boob?
Indeed, if you could remember when I first took you to KFC at Baweleshi? On our entry, a large boob lady rose from an all-female table to hug me before I could pass their table. You couldn’t ask me who she was? Or why she robs her heavy chest on a lanky guy who has just walked in with another lady? I believe you often attributed these happenings to my involvement in students’ politics on campus. That is partly true. But a lot of it emanates from me presenting myself as an “in-demand” guy ready to mingle. You have often amused me with your reactions.
This lady carries some of these superficial boobs around. I got to know this from one of her colleagues who envies the heavy chest she embraces and attracts attention with. I know you didn’t have a proper look at her that day, and I don’t know if you’ve ever seen her again. But if you have done, you will realize the boobs, though superficial, gives her a neatly arranged figure which matches her widen thighs to cumulatively give a befitting figure that most contemporary men yearned for, social media pamper for views
and gives confidence to the human being carrying it.
Do you know that she now works with one of the best transport companies, in Ghana? I met her at the yard of the transport company at Circle, together with her coworkers who all have big boobs and nicely decorated cleavage aligning in the middle of the long white sleeves She hugged me again immediately when she saw me at their office. She directed to another lady behind a counter, equally having big boobs. However, hers looks naturally big, flustered yet erected by strings under her lightly worn white long-sleeves. The lady behind the counter reminded me of an experience I had with a lady in the trotro. Only that, she was smartly dressed, intelligently poised for the business of the day.
Conspicuously missing was her customer service while presenting a well-nurtured cleavage in-between a halved buttoned white long-sleeved hovering over two big boobs and directly proportional to the red glossed lips. At the height of every successful business, where human interaction is key, is Good Customer Service. In the contemporary generation, client attention shifted to what’s before them, or perhaps what their eyes immediately capture becomes their main concern. Socially, there is signage; there’s a trademark, and there’s a tradition. This is where it all began.
This puts the ethical demand of Customer Service perpetually in waiting, inaudible, unexhausted, unfulfilled, and perhaps forever, in principle, unfulfillable, and inexhaustible–the sovereign expression of life is however always already fulfilled and complete; though not by choice, but spontaneously without being demanded. Good Customer Service has driven itself into self-perpetuity, bondage, and susceptible dormancy. Other things have gained prominence, not by the will of nature but by the insufferable demands of a furtive generation, slovenly dictated and sensualized in many ways.
My dear Samira, I have been a little naughty these days. I know that. It was Nyasses the other time. And now boobs. Next time, it may be gbola. Well! I am sure we will talk about gbola anytime soon, for what has been happening to boobs is the same thing happening to gbola. I am not in any way saying there isn’t a craving about gbola, but that’s like entering a lion’s den to steal its most cherished grand orphan whose mother has fallen to a bullet of the hunter. Regardless, the grand orphan displays its mystic skills in the trials of the most wanted hunter, who by coincidence, also intends to hunt down the old lion to complete a greater position in hunting history.
But you know what? When we were young and without experience, we all imagined that the story of the boob was easy, that one of us could get up each time and tell it. That is not always so. True, we all have our little scraps of the tale bubbling in us. What we tell is like the middle of a mighty BOA, which a foolish hunter mistakes for a TREE TRUNK and settles upon to take his snuff. Out of naivety, we lay into our little tale with wild eyes and vigorous tongues. This is the “beginning of the mighty rise and fall guided by what brought us this far.” Boobs have given man life. Boobs saved generations just like the Biblical Jesus has done before. The story of boobs can be likened to Jesus Christ; everyone has his version.
Nonetheless, you may now understand why boobs spurred this writing in a very awkward situation when I was supposed to be discussing the collapsing economy of Ghana. I know you don’t understand much of historical antecedents but you might have come across the mighty rise of Biblical Sampson or the great Kingdom of Damascus or even might have heard of the Great dynasty of Egypt through Classical Historical records. They all possess one thing in common. Their rise came from a single suck of the ‘boobian’ nipple. And the fall came from the same
My dear Samira, I know you aren’t an avid reader as I would love you to be. I know you don’t read any book that is not connected to highpoint economics. But I know Efo Mawugbe’s in the chest of women resonates well with you. In it, he says that in the chest of a woman is not only the extension of the breast but a burning desire for power. What you have often dreaded. I know you dislike my venturing into politics when I raised it during one of our encounters at KFC. If recalled the day, we had a youthful discussion on youth affairs in ghana.
Today’s quote hovers on the “dog chase a car moment.” I know you understand this better than I anticipated. At that moment, when dogs think they are better sprinters than cars and they begin to chase their owner’s car. They think of catching it but didn’t know that they will never be able to catch it. They tried their best, perfected their sprints, and augmented their bodies yet……You must recognize that you are your unique individual with your life path. The Good Lord knows why you aren’t gifted plentiful boobs. Do not fall for the tricks as others have fallen and never regret it for a second. Have you ever considered why you have academic brains and others don’t?
By now, we know that apples and oranges can not be compared. And if you ever do, prepare yourself for the stress and anxiety. The atmosphere is crazy these days. The result is stunning. The vibe is the modernist imaginary soliloquy. There is no shame in making mistakes while trying to figure things out. The goal is to live a fulfilling life, not a perfect one. Yet, our contemporaries have perfected the world and perfected their boobs. I may be wrong or right, but I have certainly faced boobs my eyes can’t describe this today. Something not like yours, neither the KFC lady nor even that of Efo Mawugbe’s description. It is different. Yes! Different.
You may not know or hear or see; now you know, heard, and seen. I can sleep now on a Saturday night, feeling fulfilled and relieved.
Written by
Al Latif Kambo-Naa