I am skimming through my diary. Oh! It’s February 14th. I can see the ‘tattered socks drama’ shabbily scribbled here. Memories! I wish I just don’t remember this again!
It was on the evening of Val’s day. Most of the ‘campus couples’ had already gone on a night out. Like every Val’s day, there was a plethora of 'romantic' programs in and out of campus. The ‘Mr. Lonely’ that I was, I lay in bed listening to some dead, highlife ‘adadamu’ music. At least, that was how best I could while away my loneliness; I had nowhere to go.
Minutes after being engrossed in my ‘by- force’ nineteen twenty something music, a friend barged into my room with an offer; a campus fellowship was hosting a ‘lovers-and-singles night’.
My good friend, another bird of the same feather, insisted we attended this event at all cost because maybe… just maybe… we were going to find our missing ribs (one for each of us!).
I embraced the idea. After all, I wasn’t making any headway with my good old music. It wasn’t really my thing.
Attending the event was going to be great. However, there was one problem; I had washed all my clothes earlier that evening. All I had were my neatly-pressed shirt, pair of trousers and… oh… my pair of tattered socks!
Actually, I had planned on discarding those socks early the next day. They had long outlived their expiry date. Those socks had seen better days ooo!
From the look of things, I had to make do with that pair of socks because I didn’t have any other, neither did my friend have any to spare.
Both of us headed for the venue of the program. On reaching there, I spotted this beautiful lady sitting alone at her table. My heart leapt for joy.
"Probably that's my missing rib!"
I deserted my friend and quickly joined her. He gawked at me as he sadly sat at another table occupied by only guys. I knew I had played a fast one on him and was going to have a good laugh at him when we got back to our rooms. I engaged the lady in a hearty chat. Wow! It was so refreshing. We talked on and on.
No sooner than later, our chat was interrupted. The preacher man for the night had arrived. He soon began to preach. Thirty minutes into his sermon, he revealed that the Holy Ghost had just whispered to him to do something.
I smiled. "Tweaa!"
I definitely knew it was going to be about money… of which I had enough. Obviously… it was going to be an opportunity to win the heart of this lady by giving out as much as she couldn’t imagine.
The preacher man then continued that he had been directed by the Holy Ghost to anoint our feet. My heart skipped a beat!
“Anoint our feet at this time of the night!?” I thought aloud. I knew this anointing service was definitely a recipe for disaster. My socks were tattered beyond repairs and I couldn’t imagine displaying them publicly.
Everyone could clearly see the irreparable damage by way of the patches and ‘potholes’ (big enough to contain my grandmother’s cooking pot) on them. The pretty damsel on seeing them could easily mistaken me for one mentally-deranged folk.
The preacher insisted on coming over to our respective seats to anoint us individually. Alas! Our table was the first. My heart palpitated. The look I wore on my face betrayed my insecurity. I knew I was in danger… a big one of course!
I saw the preacher galloping to our table. I didn’t need the same Holy Ghost to remind me that danger was coming. I cocked my neck around and before anyone could utter the word jack… I had bolted… with the speed of Usain Bolt!
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