The man seemed besotted with my hair. As he spoke, he kept staring. Only God knew what was going thru his head.
To further compound his problem, I kept pulling at the curls and playing with the hair. This kept his gaze and I wondered what concern my hair for this matter o.
So in between civil war stories and his foray in international diplomacy, the gaze kept going to my hair. I’m sure he would be thinking that there was dandruff, but I saw some envy because when he raised his cap, I saw a total bald palate the type they call gorimapa.
Finally, his aged wisdom came to the fore and he told us a story of his grandson who just came back from England the previous night with uncombed and twisted hair. According to him, the boy jumped on him and said ‘grandpa, I did this for you’ and he replied ‘ you know I would not like it’.
That was him using old man sense to tell me say he no like my hair.
Well wetin concern me, the most important thing be say, I don come and he no give me food.
At the end of the over two hour meeting, he looked at me one last time and smiled knowingly as he acknowledged the fact that Aremu would be seen by one million people and ‘he no matter say na mad man bring the project come’.