Hangout – to spend time doing nothing in particular.
I challenge that definition. My hangout was very particular. I spent it dodolising! Assina had invited me to an ‘African’ lunch. Normally, I’m ‘allergic’ to the word African. It brings all the ‘horrors’ of the generalization to my head. Like; I’m going to Africa or There’s an African on the queue, Anyway, I have decided that anyone who still generalizes like this is not updated and it’s up to me to add to their cultural knowledge.
So it’s usually a smile and a
‘Oh really. Which country in Africa?
‘An African? Does she speak English or French? At least if she speak French, that leaves us with 31 out of the 54 countries in Africa.
Back to our lunch o jare. Assina is Congolese and she was going to introduce me to two Congolese friends. So when she said African and added lunch to it, I packed up my fight and left it at home. Let’s eat lunch in peace o. Fight will come later.
That’s how I arrived there to find my friend bustling around in the kitchen – heating up the chicken, frying the dodo, making some salad. Oya now, where are the two friends? Friend ni, friends ko. I was transported to the biblical parable where the King’s guests turned down the invitation to the royal wedding for unreasonable reasons.
One friend had just woken up. Eh, we’re in summer and it’s a Saturday. Agreed! The other had forgotten the directions to Assina’s place. It’s alright. Two’s company and three is a crowd sometimes. So we consoled ourselves and sat down to the plate of dodo made for four. And we gisted – about moving our respective countries forward, of Assina’s job in Congo as the Director of Formation in a school in Kinshasa, of the joy of living and of cooking, of eating healthy, of my sister Oge who’s expecting her third baby, of my summer plans, of everything! Did we have a swell time? You tell me!
Dedicated: to the two dear Congolese who couldn’t come. Ope o! Thanks for not showing up. See you some other time.