Warring with a cockroach

Mad o. The effrontery. Fighting for your life inside my bathroom?!

My body tingles with excitement and fatigue. It had been a long week: dancing around the village until my soles hurt, getting my toes blistered from running from beggarly masquerades, and eating like a chicken being fattened for Christmas.

I was home once more.

I did not understand this new shape that filled my hand but the fragrance fascinates my nostrils. Find me where the coconuts are. Coconut body wash, lotions, creams, perfume…shampoo! 

It was squarish. Shampoos were usually shaped like a cylinder slimming down towards the top to its cover. This was a vertical rectangle with an inward curve on the side that pushed the opposite side out like a pregnant woman. Maybe the design was a mistake? It did not matter. 

I looked forward to many things and washing my locs was one of them. After giving my life to Christ, deciding to loc my 4C hair was the next best step I ever took. 

The shower’s contact with my scalp sends shivers down my spine. A satisfied moan leaves my mouth and I throw my head back, embracing the cold water running down my head, shoulders, back… I start to hum Enya’s Boadicea. Ready for a shoulder/bicep workout, my arms lift—my fingers working the shampoo into my micro locs. I liked to feel each one, some thin, some thicker, examining for holes or other irregularities. 

The week had been a crazy one. From the road trip to Onitsha for the burial of my friend’s dad to multitasking with work all the way. I could barely believe I survived. Fascinating really, this human elasticity. 

Rinsing off, I apply the coconut shampoo again. First for the coconut smell and second for the other smell, my hair stunk like a skunk. So the heat wave matter was true—when did I grow to have so much distrust in the news? It had been so hot in the east. Which was weird because I schooled in the east and it was rarely hot; less buildings, I think. Lagos was usually the hot city. 

The conditioner instructions said 3 – 5 minutes. Another oddity. I was used to 5 – 10 minutes. My eyes fall on the ingredients list and…’Wait. Wasn’t it sulphate they said was bad for natural hair? How did I miss this at the supermarket?’ I smirk mischievously. Fine, let’s be honest, it’s coconut. I’d still have bought it anyway. My thick, black 4C hair was hereditary. That must be stronger than any sulphate.

With the conditioner sitting, I press the niacinamide face wash into my hands to lather it and apply it. 

Then I see it. 

Brown, disgusting and moving. A freaking cockroach, climbing the white tiled walls like the itsy bitsy spider. For all of two seconds, I forget I am at the top of the food chain; I remember in due time to hold back my scream. No need to give my mother a panic attack. I’m a big girl. 

I make calculations. 

If I pick up my rubber slippers and smack the cockroach on the wall, the dead stench would be worse than the living disgust. And what if I miss and it starts to fly? I would evacuate the premises pronto.

If it falls, it would be directly on my toothbrush. Certainly not in the mood for a toothbrush hunt tomorrow. I had given my sister my spare when she was travelling and hadn’t replaced that yet.

On a third thought…

Filling the bailer with water from the tap, I stretch my hand to pour it over the cockroach. It slips but it does not fall. Mad o. The effrontery. Fighting for your life inside my bathroom?!

I repeat thrice before I attain victory. The cockroach squirms and falls into the basin the second time. I cannot take its life there, it would be a mess covering up my tracks. With slippery feet, it storms out of the basin and falls, back first, with a wet thud. 

Yea, who’s the boss now? I must look like a giant to this guy. Sparing no second, I grab my murder weapon. Three smacks and a son, brother, friend and maybe father, is lost. 

Whew. Now where were we?