It wasn’t a joke when he heard what happened. He had just been robbed of the money he had been saving for that special project. ‘This life ehn' was all he muttered when he saw it for himself. Someone must have been watching him but he wasn’t sure who. ‘Omo mehn, person wey don die no know wetin dey’, he told someone when the person asked ‘how you dey?’. The response would have been weird but George was different shades of weird already so any air of weirdness around him seemed normal.
Life had been easy for him. If he wanted to tell his story ten years ago, there would have been no point because he had no battles but now, everything is different. If he had been on that plane with them, he’d have crashed too. Sometimes he’s grateful he wasn’t with them but most times, he’s not so sure anymore. If he could tell his story, it would be titled ‘endless struggle’ because he hadn’t found a breaking point yet so yes, his struggle is endless.
Everyone is a ‘freak’ of something. Music, sex, money, drugs, church etc. The list is endless but for George, it was fashion. There was nothing more he wanted than to dress up nice in a designer outfit and be seen taking pictures with the same designer. Pictures which will cover the front pages of magazines. The world knowing him for being a model who only rocks designers. That shouldn’t be too much to ask life for but it was already hard enough, no need to complicate things.
As if being unable to speak proper English was not bad enough, he needed no one to tell him that he couldn’t afford the outfit. The money he had been saving for Baba’s designer outfit was the one that got stolen. He had the looks, a bit rough though and he also had the height. The broken english he spoke made him feel insecure but ‘wetin man go do’. Nothing made him happier than watching fashion shows especially designers talking about their struggles, it gave him so much hope. He could barely afford data to watch shows so he secretly used a hotel’s Wi-Fi.
It was Baba’s Fashion Week. The Nigerian Fashion Association was having their fashion month. They were featuring 4 top Nigerian designers, one per week. Baba was George’s favorite.
‘How far guy?’ George heard someone say. He looked and saw that it was Hassan Danbaba of ‘Baba feels’, his favorite designer. He was even more shocked that Hassan spoke pidgin, he didn’t think the fine man could speak anything not ‘proper’. ‘I dey’ he replied casually meanwhile somersaulting inwardly. ‘let’s take a walk’ Hassan said. They walked and talked about football until they got to a car. Hassan told him to get in. He did and in a couple of minutes, they were at a store – Hassan’s.
Hassan ordered his staff to style the George, get him ready because he was going on the show. George could feel his body shake, this was just whatttttttt!!!! He was screaming inside. Not long after, he was told what to do and he saw himself walking on stage as the last model with Hassan behind him, holding him back for several photos to be taken of them both on the runway.
‘if we no get money, wetin we gain oh, wetin we gain’ was the song which brought him back to life. His phone was ringing. He had been dreaming. Oh wait, he wasn’t because he woke up in a hotel room and he couldn’t remember how he got there. There was a note on the bedside stool, he picked it up and read ‘meet me at this address when you’re awake, the driver is at the lobby waiting. You killed it last night by the way’ he closed it and saw a name behind it ‘Hassan’. So it wasn’t dream after all.
Twitter >> @odusolar
Facebook >> Aanuoluwapo Odusola
Instagram >> @aanusol
Life had been easy for him. If he wanted to tell his story ten years ago, there would have been no point because he had no battles but now, everything is different. If he had been on that plane with them, he’d have crashed too. Sometimes he’s grateful he wasn’t with them but most times, he’s not so sure anymore. If he could tell his story, it would be titled ‘endless struggle’ because he hadn’t found a breaking point yet so yes, his struggle is endless.
Everyone is a ‘freak’ of something. Music, sex, money, drugs, church etc. The list is endless but for George, it was fashion. There was nothing more he wanted than to dress up nice in a designer outfit and be seen taking pictures with the same designer. Pictures which will cover the front pages of magazines. The world knowing him for being a model who only rocks designers. That shouldn’t be too much to ask life for but it was already hard enough, no need to complicate things.
As if being unable to speak proper English was not bad enough, he needed no one to tell him that he couldn’t afford the outfit. The money he had been saving for Baba’s designer outfit was the one that got stolen. He had the looks, a bit rough though and he also had the height. The broken english he spoke made him feel insecure but ‘wetin man go do’. Nothing made him happier than watching fashion shows especially designers talking about their struggles, it gave him so much hope. He could barely afford data to watch shows so he secretly used a hotel’s Wi-Fi.
It was Baba’s Fashion Week. The Nigerian Fashion Association was having their fashion month. They were featuring 4 top Nigerian designers, one per week. Baba was George’s favorite.
‘How far guy?’ George heard someone say. He looked and saw that it was Hassan Danbaba of ‘Baba feels’, his favorite designer. He was even more shocked that Hassan spoke pidgin, he didn’t think the fine man could speak anything not ‘proper’. ‘I dey’ he replied casually meanwhile somersaulting inwardly. ‘let’s take a walk’ Hassan said. They walked and talked about football until they got to a car. Hassan told him to get in. He did and in a couple of minutes, they were at a store – Hassan’s.
Hassan ordered his staff to style the George, get him ready because he was going on the show. George could feel his body shake, this was just whatttttttt!!!! He was screaming inside. Not long after, he was told what to do and he saw himself walking on stage as the last model with Hassan behind him, holding him back for several photos to be taken of them both on the runway.
‘if we no get money, wetin we gain oh, wetin we gain’ was the song which brought him back to life. His phone was ringing. He had been dreaming. Oh wait, he wasn’t because he woke up in a hotel room and he couldn’t remember how he got there. There was a note on the bedside stool, he picked it up and read ‘meet me at this address when you’re awake, the driver is at the lobby waiting. You killed it last night by the way’ he closed it and saw a name behind it ‘Hassan’. So it wasn’t dream after all.
Twitter >> @odusolar
Facebook >> Aanuoluwapo Odusola
Instagram >> @aanusol
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