The Corper Diaries (Pt 4) - C for Calabar Kitchen, C for Cynthia

It's been a while abi? Sorry about that jare. So much on my mind. Anyways, about me and Cynthia. Hmm... Me and Cynthia.. And now you are wondering what's wrong. Truth is, we are absolutely fantastic!! And the kisses?? Oh God!! Oh God!! Okay, I am getting ahead of myself so let me start slow and easy.

 That evening, I had a date to meet Cynthia at the mammy market. The mammy market is a conglomeration of sights, sounds and smells all combined to do one thing: make you part with your money. Shall I begin to talk about the wondrous delights of the Calabar Kitchen and the delicateness of the heavenly taste of the food sold there on my palate? The explosions of paradise it sends to my brain? Or the watery deliciousness that runs down my throat as I bite into the apples and watermelons sold by Aunty Bola? Ah, mammy market!

 Now, I am not saying the food served at the camp's kitchen was/is not good. Afterall, I have helped in preparing the meals whenever my platoon was on kitchen duty. Okay, maybe I didn't exactly do any cooking but washing the food coolers or containers (or whatever Oyinbo people call it. English is not my mother tongue jare), the serving spoons and other things plus carrying firewood and things like that; it counts as help, right? Long story short, food at the mammy market is way more tastier and filling than what the camp kitchen prepares. One good advice though: carry plenty money along to the mammy market because one might get carried away. And if you are broke, please and please, let no one convince, confuse, cajole or entice you into going. You will just enter correct debt!! I am speaking from (not personal o) experience.

 So there I was at Calabar Kitchen waiting for Cynthia and counting the money in my wallet. I didn't want anything to ruin the evening plus, they say first impressions count and I had to make a very lasting and wonderful one. I looked up and beheld a wondrous visage, an entity not of this world; clad in white like a shining angel. Sorry, it's a habit from my days of writing poetry. I mean, I looked up and saw Cynthia coming. She was beaming that 1000MW smile that lit up my intestines and.........what? Who cares if it's infatuation? Man no fit dey alone na. Anyways, she sat carefully so as not to stain her white outfit (oh yes, we are obligated to wear white at all times except when going to Sunday services or the Mosque or if otherwise stated) and we ordered for white rice with stew and meat.

 We sat there making conversation, talking about the schools we attended and sharing funny stories. Cynthia has such a beautiful smile. And this very cute thing she does when she is talking and she tucks her hair away from her face? Captivating!! I had a good time chatting with her and when we left Calabar Kitchen, we were holding hands like.......well, we were holding hands. We were just walking and chatting about inconsequential stuff and we decided to pop into the hall and check out whatever social activity was on that evening. It was Platoon 5 that was on display with their very boring drama. Honestly, some people just don't have any concept of good stagecraft and how to keep an audience entertained. I would rather stab myself in the eye than watch them so we left. Pretty soon, it was time for everyone to go back to their appointed hostels and like a good gentleman, I escorted Cynthia for some part of the way. At the point where it was wise for me to turn back (since I do not enjoy doing frog jumps or press-ups, especially at night), we said our 'goodbyes' and 'see you tomorrows'. And she gave me a quick peck on the cheek then went in quickly. I was stunned for a moment. Then with a big smile on my face, I went to my hostel to lie down and reminisce.

 And I am still reminiscing. That's that. Oh! For more details, you'll just have to wait. I may decide to divulge, I may not. Just keep your fingers crossed, hehehe.. I'll write about SAED next but of course, that's for next time. Now? Make I fantasize small about Cynthia..

By Oluwasina Niran
https://www.facebook.com/niranneil?fref=ts