The rate at which ‘small men’ call themselves ‘chairmen’ is alarming.  The other day, I went with my darling Bibi to a burial ceremony. While standing outside and taking in the scenery, a man walked up to me to tell me that his ‘Chairman’ wanted to talk to me. Of course, I wanted to see the chairman since, who knows, he could just be a generous man. To my disappointment, chairman was standing in front of one old, rickety car. He was a local champion who,  because of his knowledge of driving, drove his mum to the venue. I was irritated but still pretended to be nice. You know what they say ‘Rich men use the smallest things’. Not this one, he was an original local champion!

Guess what? Mr Andre Nnanna Ibeh is now married! Okay who is the man and what has this news got to do with the posts I promised to deliver? Let me start this way…

“They say you are a pretender”, my boss told me a while back. While the revelation of what ‘they’ said behind me hurt me deeply, I had to come to terms with the fact that ‘they’ were not wrong afterall. I am a pretender and I admit it, but who doesn’t pretend? I pretend to be patient when my impatience kills me inside,I also pretend to be interested in a talk so boring. Even my ‘tough face’ is a product of years of what I would call pretence training. Pretence is simply camouflage. It is meant to protect you from the prying eyes of haters who pretend to love you and have your good in heart. Pretending to put up with someone’s crap, especially a fellow colleague at work is necessary to maintain a good working relationship.

Back to the burial ceremony I attended, Bibi who was my companion, left me sitting alone when a young lady walked up to me, handed me her phone and said “Sister, Malogogo Jerry (not real names) wants me to get your phone number’. She called the name with such authority that I assumed the man was a top politician, one whose name I must have skipped while reading my dailies. Being a decent lady, I asked for her to show me who her boss was, she pointed to a man sitting on the other end of the venue. His big, round belly suggested he was constipated. He had such a face that would scare a new born back to its mother’s womb. He was monster personified, cartoon in its human form! I typed in my phone number, determined to catch my fun by frustrating the man and I did. Fancy a man, who is probably in his mid 50s telling me that he works with the governor, like I haven’t worked with governors before. .

In other news, I have decided to discontinue my talk on the modeling world as my special advisers have made me see the point not to. However, I shall continue to give interesting updates.
Finally I would like to wish Mr Andre Nnanna Ibeh, a guest blogger and the author of ‘THE BULLSHIT WE LIVE WITH’ series a happy married life.



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