Goodbye, my Sarah

I don’t know the names my neighbours call me behind my back. Many of them would have thought I was an eccentric for not taking advantage of my dear Sarah.
Sarah, that is the name I call her. Many of them would have seen me as simply stupid for going for such an outmodelled lady, when the social space is filled with brand new, and/or remodelled beauties that are willing to be traded for a song.

It is true I did not meet Sarah when she was in her prime and full of innocence. She had already been deflowered and overused by other men by the time we met. But being American, she didn’t look her age. I fell in love with her. That was the beginning of our romance. It was good initially and I did not spare any expense in the bid to make her look her darling self. I tried her to turn her into a beautiful bride, even if I cannot restore her virginity.

In spite of my doting, some of my neighbours still take me to be a poor lover, that I am not romantic enough to give my old love some loving treats. I know that some of the claims they make about me are true. And very true is the fact that I hate to take my Sarah out on a lovely ride because I hate to be harassed by the lustful stare and ogling of other men and I hate to be harassed by uniformed men who are always prowling like hungry hyenas looking for preys.

Why my neighbours should raise an eyebrow over my relationship with Sarah is still a baffle. I look at their ladies, none of them could boast of having a virgin as a companion. But they still complain like the typical Nigerian. They complain that I cannot take my Sarah out and that I allow other men to use her because of my reluctance to be in the driver’s seat. They say behind my back that I am a jelly and so cannot take the wheel. But as they say, talk is cheap. I love my Sarah.

I know many people are jealous of my relationship with Sarah but I never realised the length people can go to cause others great distress until I read in the newspapers that some individuals, using government as a cover, were trying to take my Sarah from me.

Their excuse is that because of people like me and Sarah, the environment is no longer safe. You may be wondering what a safe environment has to do with Sarah. But the hard fact is that my Sarah smokes. She smokes a lot. Apart from smoking, she emits bad breath. She also snores even when she is awake. That is my Sarah. But are those traits enough to cause a love-struck person like me great distress by ordering that my dear old Sarah should no longer walk the street?

I have never made any complaint about the expenses I incurred while trying to cure Sarah of her life-threatening condition to anyone. Why should any government want to bother itself about a problem that is solely my own?

But the good news, for me, is that those neighbours of mine who squeal behind my back are also involved. Their..., whatever their names are, too have been placed on the “most dangerous” list of government. They would no longer be allowed to hold any form of consorting with them outside, anywhere in the streets of the country. Failure to comply with the directive will cause them hell!

I have told Sarah about this new development. I had to break the sad news to her because she couldn’t read. She has also developed this hiccup which is preventing her from taking our normal regular stroll round the neighbourhood. Sarah is in great distress because of the bad decision of government. I am in great pains too because I know very well that there is more than altruistic motives to the government’s contemplated action. I am already looking forward to a life without Sarah, pending the time I will find a virgin, an untouched, un-violated, unbranded and undamaged companion.

The name of my new love may not be Sarah; she could be anything. If I like, I could call her Primera after the Spanish football league which I love to watch. I could go to a Civic centre in a City and reach an Accord with the leaders there in the bid to evade the jealous clutches of my neighbours. I can call my new companion anything that catches my fancy like Elantra or Sonata to adulterate the word, sonnet. In fact, when I meet my new companion I will ask her if she loves to answer the name Rio because of my love for the city of Rio de Janeiro in Brazil. If she doesn’t like that she can take the name of Sorento or Cerrato which I suppose sound very much like Brazilian names.

I have said goodbye to my Sarah, my loving Ford Sierra, my rugged jalopy that the government doesn’t want on the streets of Nigeria.

Post script:

The government of President Umaru Yar’Adua, according to newspaper reports, would start impounding rickety vehicles. What the contemplated action of government means is that there would be improved suffering among the citizenry. In a society where the government does not see the necessity for providing functional transportation services, where there is absence of comfort-giving social amenities, it is the poor that are usually the guinea pigs. They are the ones that are always asked to make the sacrifice while their rulers gorge themselves on the offerings.

Dear Nigerians should better brace themselves for the hard times ahead as vehicle inspectors or VIOs and police fight one another over who should take the largesse that will generate from their search for rickety or jalopies.

As for me, I have made my peace with my rickety Sierra and I am bracing myself (or is it my leg?) for the hard trekking ahead.