An Airforce Colonel
Do they have this? A colonel in the airforce?
I have been scouring the internet over night to see if I can confirm that there is actually one in existence.
Well, I met one! Or at least, one that claims to be one!
I had just had a smooth trip to and fro Paris
Coming down at the Guillemins Station, Liège,
I boarded a bus for home.
In the bus, there were three black folks, two men and a woman, conversing in English language.
I was elated!
Why? You may ask.
Reason: Liège is in the French-speaking part of Belgium
And because I don't speak French, meeting blacks speaking in English in Liège, I couldn't help grinning
These folks immediately switched to Nigerian Pidgin English
Chineke! That was the camel that broke the straw's back!
Or is it the other way? Choose the most appropriate, s'il vous plaît!
And as if Pidgin English wasn't enough, one of them interspersed it with Igbo words.
With the ramshackle, un-African bus seating style in Europe, this character and I sat face-to-face.
In a molue proper, they would have been sitting behind me
But here, while one of the guys and the lady sat opposite me, the other guy and a white lady sat directly opposite them, with their backs to me.
As I entered, my heart went out for the hapless white lady who was sandwiched between one of the men and the bus window.
These people's talk gladdened my heart so much that I was at the verge of joining in.
There was another young Nigerian-looking lady by the door of the bus, somewhere to my left, who was also smiling
And I guess that both of us wanted the same thing - to identify with these brethren, folks from home.
Our faces openly expressed our desire in acknowledging smiles
Five Africans, having a kind of fellowship; two - the lady standing by the door and I, participating vicariously and waiting anxiously for a leeway to join openly.
For one moment, it felt like home because I can say now that I was oblivious of any other person in that three quarter full bus apart from these other four.
The white lady sitting with the trio only caught my attention, when she hurriedly got down at a bus stop before rue d'Avroy.
I can hazard she wasn't at her destination yet but needed to get down as far away from thes folks.
If that is not true, it does not detract from the fact that she was so pleased to alight from the bus.
She must have had a premonition of what was about to happen.
I would have taken her option too, if I knew earlier what I was in for.
To think that I will come all the way from Bongo and then someone will come and chop me mugu in Europe, of all places.
I think it happened a few seconds before I could open my mouth to join the conversation.
If it was the one facing me, he would have sensed that I was Nigerian.
But it started with the one that had his back to me, that is the one hitherto sitting with the white lady.
He said: "People get surprised when I tell them that I am a Colonel!"
That was unexpected. And to think that the one opposite me has been referring to him as my oga, my defence mechanism was kicked into operation.
Sitting in a taxi, bus or even aeroplane back home, you learn to ignore other people's talks.
Else, you either find yourself going to clear your bank account to help buy a missing vital chemical for printing money or to help purchase a whole warehouse load of goods at over hundred times less the market cost.
A colonel?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colonel
My smile dried up.
I had to facially deny knowledge of the language they were speaking, which I was enjoying before then, when the colonel added: "Yes, I am a serving airforce colonel."
Airforce!? Airforce colonel?
My head was calculatingly ticking!
He wasn't done yet:
"I received a call from the embassy one day. They said that they received information from the presidency that I am in the country ..."
Osanobua!
My mind was made up! My mind raced back to situations like this in taxis and buses at home where this kind of folks make expertly covert overtures to cajole you into their discussion.
At that point, I knew from little knowledge that there are no colonels in the Airforce, at least in Nigeria.
Haba! Even if I don't know anything at all, the military era taught me that if a state governor was not a colonel or lieutnant colonel (if he is from the Army), he is a Navy Captain (if he is from the Navy) or a Wing Commander or Group Captain (if he is from the airforce).
I would have said may be he is in the Belgian or American army;
But his saying that the presidency at Abuja intimated the embassy here of his presence in the country, shows this mid-forties-looking man as what he really is, a charlatan!
He had other stories:
Nigerians live a lot in the south of Belgium and he mentioned Antwerp which if he had cared to check the map is in the opposite direction.
That was his first time of taking a bus in Liège, yet he knew all the stops and was pointing them out to the lady with them - either their accomplice or a prey.
I was done with these people. I would have stopped at the nearest stop, but the bus was almost at Place Saint Lambert where I was going to.
I chose to look at the other lady by the door.
In the whole confusion brought about by the airforce colonel's blunder,
I momentarily forgot about her.
Her face had also changed.
Either she sensed it from my face or she also knew like me that there are no colonels in the airforce.
She was looking out of the window, with a serious face, in the opposite direction to where the folks were seated.
Perhaps, her father is a military person because she has a kind of barracks look about her.
I was shocked when they stood up at the same time as me.
And because they were closer to the mid exit door, they were ahead of me.
I conceded and quietly trailed behind them as the doors opened, but making sure that my eyes never met theirs.
As the doors of the bus opened at Place Saint Lambert, I hurriedly prepared to leave the bus without a back glance.
As I came down from the bus, I checked to see whether the girl by the door was coming down,
She glared at me and them pitifully from the safety of the bus;
Luckily for her, it is bus No. 4 and it goes beyond that stop.
I wished for a moment that I had that choice.
But as the bus pulled off, I checked the folks saw where they were headed - in the direction I was going to take another bus to my home,
I made a very quick decision to go in the opposite direction - go for a long overdue shopping for groceries, on a Wednesday evening.
The risk of taking another bus with them again and alighting at the same bus stop with these fellas was something I didn't want to take again.
Meeting an airforce colonel a second time could be disastrous
Just one meeting is enough for me!
 |
| Gare Guillemins, Liège, Belgique |
Well, I met one! Or at least, one that claims to be one!
I had just had a smooth trip to and fro Paris
Coming down at the Guillemins Station, Liège,
I boarded a bus for home.
In the bus, there were three black folks, two men and a woman, conversing in English language.
I was elated!
Why? You may ask.
Reason: Liège is in the French-speaking part of Belgium
And because I don't speak French, meeting blacks speaking in English in Liège, I couldn't help grinning
These folks immediately switched to Nigerian Pidgin English
Chineke! That was the camel that broke the straw's back!
Or is it the other way? Choose the most appropriate, s'il vous plaît!
And as if Pidgin English wasn't enough, one of them interspersed it with Igbo words.
With the ramshackle, un-African bus seating style in Europe, this character and I sat face-to-face.
In a molue proper, they would have been sitting behind me
But here, while one of the guys and the lady sat opposite me, the other guy and a white lady sat directly opposite them, with their backs to me.
As I entered, my heart went out for the hapless white lady who was sandwiched between one of the men and the bus window.
These people's talk gladdened my heart so much that I was at the verge of joining in.
There was another young Nigerian-looking lady by the door of the bus, somewhere to my left, who was also smiling
And I guess that both of us wanted the same thing - to identify with these brethren, folks from home.
Our faces openly expressed our desire in acknowledging smiles
Five Africans, having a kind of fellowship; two - the lady standing by the door and I, participating vicariously and waiting anxiously for a leeway to join openly.
For one moment, it felt like home because I can say now that I was oblivious of any other person in that three quarter full bus apart from these other four.
The white lady sitting with the trio only caught my attention, when she hurriedly got down at a bus stop before rue d'Avroy.
I can hazard she wasn't at her destination yet but needed to get down as far away from thes folks.
If that is not true, it does not detract from the fact that she was so pleased to alight from the bus.
She must have had a premonition of what was about to happen.
I would have taken her option too, if I knew earlier what I was in for.
To think that I will come all the way from Bongo and then someone will come and chop me mugu in Europe, of all places.
I think it happened a few seconds before I could open my mouth to join the conversation.
If it was the one facing me, he would have sensed that I was Nigerian.
But it started with the one that had his back to me, that is the one hitherto sitting with the white lady.
He said: "People get surprised when I tell them that I am a Colonel!"
That was unexpected. And to think that the one opposite me has been referring to him as my oga, my defence mechanism was kicked into operation.
Sitting in a taxi, bus or even aeroplane back home, you learn to ignore other people's talks.
Else, you either find yourself going to clear your bank account to help buy a missing vital chemical for printing money or to help purchase a whole warehouse load of goods at over hundred times less the market cost.
A colonel?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colonel
My smile dried up.
I had to facially deny knowledge of the language they were speaking, which I was enjoying before then, when the colonel added: "Yes, I am a serving airforce colonel."
Airforce!? Airforce colonel?
My head was calculatingly ticking!
He wasn't done yet:
"I received a call from the embassy one day. They said that they received information from the presidency that I am in the country ..."
Osanobua!
My mind was made up! My mind raced back to situations like this in taxis and buses at home where this kind of folks make expertly covert overtures to cajole you into their discussion.
At that point, I knew from little knowledge that there are no colonels in the Airforce, at least in Nigeria.
Haba! Even if I don't know anything at all, the military era taught me that if a state governor was not a colonel or lieutnant colonel (if he is from the Army), he is a Navy Captain (if he is from the Navy) or a Wing Commander or Group Captain (if he is from the airforce).
I would have said may be he is in the Belgian or American army;
But his saying that the presidency at Abuja intimated the embassy here of his presence in the country, shows this mid-forties-looking man as what he really is, a charlatan!
He had other stories:
Nigerians live a lot in the south of Belgium and he mentioned Antwerp which if he had cared to check the map is in the opposite direction.
 |
| Place Saint Lambert, Liège |
That was his first time of taking a bus in Liège, yet he knew all the stops and was pointing them out to the lady with them - either their accomplice or a prey.
I was done with these people. I would have stopped at the nearest stop, but the bus was almost at Place Saint Lambert where I was going to.
I chose to look at the other lady by the door.
In the whole confusion brought about by the airforce colonel's blunder,
I momentarily forgot about her.
Her face had also changed.
Either she sensed it from my face or she also knew like me that there are no colonels in the airforce.
She was looking out of the window, with a serious face, in the opposite direction to where the folks were seated.
Perhaps, her father is a military person because she has a kind of barracks look about her.
I was shocked when they stood up at the same time as me.
And because they were closer to the mid exit door, they were ahead of me.
I conceded and quietly trailed behind them as the doors opened, but making sure that my eyes never met theirs.
As the doors of the bus opened at Place Saint Lambert, I hurriedly prepared to leave the bus without a back glance.
As I came down from the bus, I checked to see whether the girl by the door was coming down,
She glared at me and them pitifully from the safety of the bus;
Luckily for her, it is bus No. 4 and it goes beyond that stop.
I wished for a moment that I had that choice.
But as the bus pulled off, I checked the folks saw where they were headed - in the direction I was going to take another bus to my home,
 |
| Bus Terminal, Place Saint Lambert, Liège |
The risk of taking another bus with them again and alighting at the same bus stop with these fellas was something I didn't want to take again.
Meeting an airforce colonel a second time could be disastrous
Just one meeting is enough for me!
Comments
Then the lady by the door! She was obviously as shocked as you were by the unexpected discovery that Belgium was after all home. So to feel at home in Belgium is the exact opposite of the proverbial feeling at ease! Or, who knows, the lady's spirits might have merely been dampened by the realization that some happy-go-luckys had bested her in the race to welcome you to Belgium Nigerian style. Or, better still, she might have simply executed her role so well that you completely failed to ken she was the fourth member of the air force! You never can tell.
And finally the white lady!! Poor thing. Her hasty flight provides suitable motif for a poem that should be an addendum to Soyinka's Telephone Conversation. Only, as this is the 21st Century, Nigerians have generously made themselves so well known that the lady's racist (or better, racialist) exit must this time be applauded as a most prudent act! After all, WE it is, who have chosen to be who we ought not be!!!!!