Eating In The Middle Of A Tsunami

By Ikenga Chronicles April 19, 2019

Eating In The Middle Of A Tsunami

–Onyemaechi Ogbunwezeh

Diarrhea is a terrorist.Any lactose intolerant stomach; that refuses to respect itself; has booked an appointment with embarrassment.

One day, that thunderous experience of watery matter, racing and roaring through your bowels like a rogue rocket, which bypassed everything to end up at your ass, would remind you that diarrhea is no respecter of titles.

I was on the German Autobahn racing back home. I felt that tiredness, which every driver that has had many hours under his belt knows too well.

Falling asleep on the wheels or any wheels for that matter; was never a part of my plans. Neither is it my portion. I still have a lot of beautiful feminine “ifediche” to look at and admire. After all, I am still young and strong; willing and able!

I decided to do something about it. If I was driving on any Nigerian pretense of an express way; I could have stopped at four corners, or Obollo Afor, and restocked on my Kolanuts. That shit can send sleep to the Sahara desert; and keep your eyes as wide and awake as an armed robber’s torch.

Nigeria is 5000 km away. That is one of the downsides of being a Nigerian in the Diaspora. Kolanut hawkers, are not to be found anywhere on German Autobahns.

I weighed my options. Weeks of un-slept sleep were coming for their pounds of flesh. The weeks spent reading books, just for the fun of learning something new; are now all coming to inform me of the foolishness of what I claimed to be my wisdom.

As a Naija man, I told myself that the ever popular “village people” were never gonna be on my case today.

I decided that, “wetin dey for Sokoto, must find a way to dey for Shokoto!”

The important element is Caffeine in my system. I decided to exit this crazy racetrack without speed-limits, that the Germans call Autobahn. “True to God“, I swore like an 042 kid, the next gas station will see me buying coffee. A little caffeine in my system, would chase this sleep away I thought. Since Kolanuts; that is “Gworo”, are not available; Coffee would help.

I saw the signpost. The next gas station was 5 kilometers away. Doing close to 200 kilometers an hour, on this sunny day, got me there in less than a minute.

I bore down on the brakes. The car obeyed with a promptitude that was an applause, to the ingenuity of German engineering. I parked and got out in no time. Got into the Station shop and went straight for the coffee machine.

Grabbed a paper cup. Added the quantity of sugar that would make my mum scream, „you will drink yourself into diabetes one day“! Poured enough milk to turn the coffee light brown. Covered that steamy, creamy nectar, that Mayan Kings used to savor.

My appointment in Frankfurt was one I dared not arrive late to. I rushed into my car, with the coffee making intermittent journeys to my lips.

The taste was heavenly. I gulped that stuff down in 2 gulps. Sat the paper cup down in between the seats, and concentrated on my ambition to floor the gas pedal, and got my black behind down to frankfurt on time for my meeting.

Scarcely had I settled down on my
cruising speed, than it seemed the coffee missed my stomach and dived straight for my ass.


That was when I realized that I have not had any breakfast and secondly that my stomach and lactose are not friends.

My eyes were struggling not to pop out of my head, as I engaged all the muscles of my anal sphincter, to hold back the floodgates of shit, that were threatening to be let loose any moment, unless I find the next toilet in a minute.

All the alarm bells in my head were ringing. The waves and waves of watery inconvenience kept rolling from my bowels; only to meet the stiff resistance of my ass muscles, which I was tightening mercilessly like a screw. I looked up to see how far the next toilet was. It was 55 f…king kilometers. I was not gonna make it there. The thunderous congress in my stomach was growing into a tsunami. Amadioha was about to disgrace his son, in White man’s country.

How could I start cleaning a car full of the watery stuff, if these floodgates of angry shit, were breached.

Amadioha! Where are you, when I need help?

As if our ancestors were not sleeping on my case, I looked up to be greeted by a signpost that screamed „Werthheim village in 10 Kilometers“!

I summoned all the horses dragging my car. And the whole 300 of them responded with a roar. The car was gliding on the Autobahn like a gate away car fleeing a bank robbery.

I got off the exit without glitch and eased slowly through the gates of this shopping mall. I was never going to make it to the parking lot, which is another 300 meters from the toilet. I drove my car straight to the nearest opening; which was marked as parking space for the Disabled.

The magnitude of the tsunami that my ass is battling to hold off, actually classified me as disabled in this moment, although I had no official badge to that effect. And I was not about to stand and explain to anyone, why I should not be classified as mentally disabled as to have willfully parked on that spot.

The car door would have hated me on this day, if it could talk. The velocity with which I slammed it shut was inhuman. Usain Bolt, would have looked like an amateur compared to the speed with which I sped into the toilet area.

The tragedy struck.

You know, such are the days you would screaming that you are not lucky; and bad luck would join your luckless circumstance to literarily kick your butt.

That was my case on this day.

As I got into the toilet area, I saw a long line of men, waiting to use the convenience. On this day of days. On this day that all my sins conspired to catch up with me. On this day that the battle raging between my bowels and my ass, was going nuclear. On this day that my ass is running the risk of losing this war any second.

Trust the Germans. They respect the queues like the would the German constitution. This is not a place you can say „Bros Abeg, I chop Ewa that has a lot of pepper in it and my stomach is running“!

You have to sit down in your misery, and wait for your turn.

But the army of shit in my stomach were an impatient lot. They want to get out Now!

If you have ever flown in an airplane, you may have heard one of those safety updates by air-stewardesses. They always say, „the nearest exit may be behind you“!

That is what I heard in my ears, in this split second that I was in the pain occasioned by serious anal inconvenience.

I turned around; and the female toilet stared at me. And there was only one lady walking into those boots. I experienced a system override. My whole sense of shame and decorum and decency were overridden by that emergency. The emergency was so dire that I was afraid to pass gas. I don’t wanna be caught passing liquids that packs the Olfactory toxicity of a Chernobly, in my bid to pass gas. If I had had some solids to eat on this day, gas would have been possible. But on this day of days, that Coffee and milk have decided to torment the bejesus out of me, gas can wait.

I dashed off into the female toilet. I could hear the murmurings following me as my steps
receded with the speed of a rocket into the toilet booth.

My jeans flew off my waist with an inhuman speed. And I sat down, in what in this moment, I would prefer to all kingly thrones of the earth.

Then came the tsunami!

I was in the middle of this raging Tsunami, when I heard the chatter.

“I just met this guy,” the first female voice continued; “we got talking and shit”! He is lovely and brilliant. I wanted to invite him over today. So I called him yesterday to ask what he likes eating!”

I held my ass tight. The sound of the Tsuanmi I was generating, was too thunderous for those female ears, I thought.

“And what does he say he likes eating,” the second female voice asked, in perfect German!

The irony couldn’t escape me. Here I was in the female house of shit, unauthorized, and dropping loads of bomb down their toilet. Keeping my mouth shut as I do it.

And here were two women, discussing food and eating; in the house of shit!!!

“He told me that he is a lion,“ the first voice continued.

“That means, he eats animals,” the second one countered!

„Funny“ countered the first one!

That was when out of the blues, I was made to realize that women have the most fertile imagination in the universe.

From nowhere, retorted the second voice, “Does it mean that he will eat you too?”

Both of them burst into laughter!

That was when I realized that shit smells.

Gwazia ndi yard unu!

Write a comment

No Comments

No Comments Yet!

Let me tell You a sad story ! There are no comments yet, but You can be first one to comment this article.

Write a comment
View comments

Write a comment