Reliving my yankee experience (Part 2)

Sooner or later, I knew I would embarrass myself someday – and yours truly obliged. It happened when I went with my buddy to his friend's house in Brooklyn one day. As we sat down kulee in this guy's house (after trudging some streets in Manhattan and Flatbush shopping on this rather humid day), he asked my buddy and myself in Yoruba what drink we would like to have. By this time, my throat was so dry I discarded all "formalities" and said Coke would be ideal for me (and jokingly inferred that I would very much prefer the black one). As soon as I said this, I noticed a smug expression on the guy's face that was immediately replaced by a coy grin. He then turned to ask my buddy the question, and to my utter dismay, he replied by saying SODA.

Now folks,” soda” in Yoruba is an exclamatory question that literally translates as: "Is it good?" So as soon as the guy turned away after saying "Okay", (this was I thinking he had answered my buddy’s question by saying "yeah, the drink's fine") I wondered why he would ask such a ludicrous question. It then dawned on me almost immediately that SODA represented all forms of drink, be it Coke, Fanta, "soft drink", "mineral" or "refreshment".

As I remarked earlier, it wasn't my first time in the States, yet I had a lapse of memory of certain norms that understandably, I am not yet immune to. Probably, I need to reside in America for about six months to fit in properly. Just the other day, this neighbourhood dude, aware I was visiting from England, wanted to become overzealously friendly with me. Of course I knew he was straight, as I had seen him a couple of times with his girlfriend. Ergo, I go come let one dude chat me up. Even if she was a “babe”, I still have to be cautious as the "babe” might turn out to be a guy.

Nonetheless, I wasn't going to let my guard down. This is America where people have a predilection of doing crazy things, with scant regard for the accompanying consequences. So this guy came up to me and said: "Sup dawg. Hi doin'. Me and me homies gon' shoot some hoops today. You down?"

As soon as I heard the word "shoot", my heart skipped a bit. What with the sporadic drive-by shootings occurring on a daily basis in America. Huh! Huh!! Mba! Since I did not want to entertain the thought of any trouble, I said "no thanks".

"Okay, man. See ya lera", he retorted.

As I watched him leave, I quickly dashed towards the house panicking like mad. Hen! Person no dey see fire for inside well. ME! Ibon? (Gun?). Tufia! 'coz if I hear gun shot "peren", I would race frantically away in top speed. Even Maurice Green (the World record holder at the time) could not have caught up with me - wind assisted or not. What was I supposed to do, as there was no one presently at home then? On reflection, I thought maybe I was on Candid Camera, but shikena, I wasn't about to wait to find out.

At that precise moment, an array of indecisive thoughts began to pervade my mind. Should I call the cops? What do I tell them? That some poor "hoops" as he called them were going to get shot today. I had never encountered anything like that before. Meeeen!! (ALA Chris Tucker), the guy even had the affront to tell it to my face. What boldness! How could he adopt a cold and indifferent attitude towards the life of another human being? Some people are heartless o.

Wait o! Didn't the guy say "you down!". Hen! Was I next? What could I have done to the guy? It's not as if I made a pass at his girl ke. To cap it all, he said, "see you later". Is this some kind of sinister joke? It's like him saying, "Have you been shot today?" And I replied NO. And he replying by saying "see you later". Meaning what? Usually, I like suspense. But this was certainly an exception I could do without.

Anyway, as soon as I opened the door to the house (in moments of panic or when you are about to quickly do "Number 2", why do doors fail to open on time?) and entered. By now I was sweating profusely. I was pacing the living room (what do yanky peeps call it?) back and forth and couldn't sit still for much longer. As the minutes ticked perilously away, in what seemed like an eternity, it saddened me that "some souls will be lost today". Then it happened. In my moment of confusion and indecision, I was startled to hear the lock of our doorknob turning. In that instant, you could hear a pin drop. The silence was palpable. I knew I had no where to hide or run.

Who said men don’t scream? Well, I was about to do just that when the door opened and it turned out to be my buddy. The sigh of relief that engulfed me and the calmness that enveloped the whole living room made me want to shout for joy. I hugged him immediately without saying why, whilst ignoring the blank expression on his face. I quickly replaced my fear with a macho stance as I narrated everything that transpired between the guy and I......and it wasn't pretty.

Still halfway into my narration, my friend belted out a lengthy irritating (Eegbe sort of) laugh that had me even more confused and equally angry. He said "hoops" was a colloquial ghetto phrase for basketball, and by "shooting", he meant playing basketball. And by saying "you down", he simply wanted to know if I would like to join them. You guys can't really apportion any blame on me. It could have happened to anyone.

On another occasion, I was in a car with a friend (oops! Buddy) of mine driving along Jamaica Avenue in Queens, one sunny afternoon - whilst listening to Ja Rule's stylish hit single called "Every little thing that you do" - and we were hungry and decided to go into Burger King. On the way in, I noticed a "nutritionally inflated" guy, who was also "gravity challenged", trying to wriggle his way through the doors of BK.

I even half expected the alarms in B.K to go off – not as a result of any imminent danger, but as a signal to B.K staff that their most valuable customer (MVC) was around. I could just picture the B.K staff scampering around hysterically trying to get his gigantic meal ready before he managed to get in through the doors by screaming: “HE’S HERE. HE’S HERE. BIG D IS HERE. OUTTA MY WAY. MOVE IT!! MOVE IT!!”

But really, what was he doing in BK? Isn't he making any concerted effort to lose weight instead of pilling it on? Mmmh! As with all things, I guess size does matter after all, although in a more complimentary way, I hasten to add. Anyway, I dare not laugh (and I am really bad at this) because one single blow from this guy, if landed flush on my jaw, might send me into coma. But before then, I would need to have relied on my buddy to pick up my scattered teeth off the floor from the impact caused from the blow.


With hindsight, I don't know if would have preferred a bear hug to a blow - probably the former. In America, I seem to notice that if people are big like “Orobo”, they are really big. And if they are thin as “Lepa Shandy”, they are really thin.

Anyway, I digressed unintentionally. As I stood in the queue (oops! Line) while my buddy was busy parking the car, I decided to tease this Black brother on the opposite line to me by sounding American. I hoped it worked 'coz I had really tried hard at mimicking the American accent. I just wanted to find out first hand how it felt to sound American.

"Hey gee, 'sup" I said, as a heightened sense of trepidation gripped me. I even offered him the "knuckle" handshake.

The guy looked me up and I fervently prayed he wouldn't pull out a gun. If he did, I think I would have stood transfixed and pissed myself, walai. Imagine if he had said in a guttural aggressive voice, "What! Yo gat a problem?"

I would have replied by saying, "No ....no.....I .I.....was....s..s..s.ss...ss...

er....em.....jus...s.ss.s...........gonna....ask...what ti...me...it ......was...ss". But he didn't.

"Hi doin", he replied, reciprocating my greeting gesture.

Encouraged by this, I changed my posture and I said "Listen man, I'm kinda lost, for real, man. I 'mo try get to “Ndigboville” (just plucked out a name sha)......., been cruising around town, but kin't seem to find the gaddem place, you know wha' am saying. You gotta clue, 'coz I dunno and gatta hustle there real fast man, know wha' am saying".

I felt good after saying this and wanted to watch the guy's expression. At least, if I was adjudged to be American for one day, I would be extremely pleased with myself.

"Yo from England, right?", the guy asked. Damn.
"Yeah, that's right", (But really, I was so disappointed the guy had burst my bubble so easily by deciphering my accent straightaway. I guess I'm not adept at mimicking accents properly after all).

"Yo said you trying to get to Di.....bo Ville, here in Nu York siri?"
"Yes"
"No man. Do ya mean Nashville?"

"No. Ndigboville"
"Gerrout' of 'ere, man", he said with a chuckle.
"No. I can't. Me buddy and I have actually come into BK to buy some food before we leave"
"Diboville? Yeah right. Man yo shitting me?" he replied sarcastically.
"No. NO SHIT" (As soon as I said this, I hoped my words were not prophetic. Coz' if it came to pass.........) The guy, still chuckling to himself, turned to face three Hispanic guys at the back of the line. ( I noticed that when Americans make fun of you, they laugh hysterically non-stop)

"Hey, do y'all know where Diboville is in Nu York siri", he asked.

The three guys shook their heads sideways, and continued with their silent conversation.

"Sorry dawg, can't help you", the guy said with resignation registered on his face.

Unruffled, I masked my embarrassment with a considerable degree of composure and proceeded to buy our food. Just when it appeared to be my turn to be served, one of the staff of BK said I should go to another cash register. I said but I haven't purchased my food yet, so why would I need to pay for something I haven't bought. He wasn't sure what I meant.

Later, he explained the cash register was where I needed to purchase and pay for my food. Cash register? Mmmm.....here in England, we refer to it as cash till. I placed our orders by requesting for two big whoppers with cheese, chips and two large drinks.

The attendant gave me another enquiring look and said, "Chips? Do ya mean fries?"

"Yeah, chip fries" I realised I had put my foot in it again.

"What drink would you like, sir?”

Since it had been on my mind all day, I said "Kunu", without thinking.

To be continued...................