Still on Yemi Alade

…….
So I walked into this pub in this city for a bottle or two and then have the chance to watch the Tottenham/Man City match in that environment where we men love to watch ball games.

Tame “toosh” joint o! And as soon as the alluring aroma of Jollof Rice wafted through the pervasive smell and smoke from the suya Mallam nearby, I remembered I was also hungry and ordered for a plate.

Just one scoop and the screaming started. Because it was a lady’s voice bursting her lungs in head-breaking English, I lifted myself off my seat for a better view.

Light complexioned, quite busty even for a woman of her age and garbed in blue gown, she screamed and banged the bar table, threatening the bottles, the beers and the glasses protecting the “holy” contents.

“Look! You don’t know me! I say you don’t know me at all!!! I am a barrack girl o! I am a barrack girl!!! My madness no get cure if I start to dey crase o!”

I just cannot remember all. And she went on for more than an hour. Sad thing was no one bothered to respond to her. No one, except an unfortunate bartender that tried to explain whatever was the reason for the tiff.

And then the fight started. She immediately pounced on him, forcing him to retreat behind a door.

I had to ask the lady attending to me who she was and to my shock, she informed me this screaming woman was the mother of Yemi Alade, the “Johnny” crooner.

Not seen such irresponsibility in a long time. All the people on her table had to keep quiet, then depart one by one.

I got told she’s a regular at that pub.

When she was done painting the place with expletives, she called a cab. The red Nissan Primera 1986 model drove in and then another fight. It happened that while waiting for her, another car had come in and made the mistake of parking behind.

Madam began to bleat and howl and shriek again. Then the car owner emerged and made way.

Madam drove off, returned about 5 minutes later in the same cab, sat in the front passenger seat and continued shouting her anger at everyone and no one.

And so I asked who got her so annoyed?

It had happened that after her entry and a few bottles, she had asked the DJ to play her daughter’s song(s). Proud mother wanted everybody to know she was the mother of that velvet-voiced singer.

But the DJ had responded that he didn’t have Yemi Alade’s songs on his playlist.

It’s not something you want to witness. She looked every inch like she was a troubled woman. The type that needs Yemi to spend some of her monies to better take care of…”