Don't destroy yourself over somebody else's foolishness. I know they betrayed you. I know they lied on you. I know they talked behind your back and told all of your business. I know they hurt you to the core. I know they turned their back on you. I know they cheated on you. I know they mislead you. I know, I KNOW. In spite of it all, you have to know that you are worth more than what they dished out to you. You will survive! You will make it through! Remember who YOU are and know YOUR self-worth!
You see, I'm a mighty proud gal and I can't for the life of me, find any valid reason why anyone should lie about their origin or anything else for that matter. Frankly, I do not ascribe to the stupid theory of white supremacy and to try to hide the fact that I am a Negro for economic or any other reasons, if I do I would be agreeing to be a Negro makes me inferior and that I have swallowed whole hog all of the propaganda dished out by our fascist-minded white citizens.
Now behind the eyes and secrets of the dreamers in the streets rocked to sleep by the sea, see the titbits and topsyturvies, bobs and buttontops, bags and bones, ash and rind and dandruff and nailparings, saliva and snowflakes and moulted feathers of dreams, the wrecks and sprats and shells and fishbones, whale-juice and moonshine and small salt fry dished up by the hidden sea.
Two weevils crept from the crumbs. 'You see those weevils, Stephen?' said Jack solemnly. I do.' Which would you choose?' There is not a scrap of difference. Arcades ambo. They are the same species of curculio, and there is nothing to choose between them.' But suppose you had to choose?' Then I should choose the right-hand weevil; it has a perceptible advantage in both length and breadth.' There I have you,' cried Jack. 'You are bit - you are completely dished. Don't you know that in the Navy you must always choose the lesser of two weevils? Oh ha, ha, ha, ha!
All kidding aside... ' I focus back on Pyke, genuine sincerity in my tone. 'Thank you... for everything. For dragging my 'clueless ass' through the ocean, and over hill and vale, when you knew it was futile and stupid-but that I'd still try to do it, with or without your help. Thanks for tracking me down when I was alone and helpless; and for giving me a voice when I thought all hope was lost-' 'Ugh, for crying out loud... Enough already, ' Pyke squirms, a nauseated grimace twisting his hairy face. 'Now you're going way overboard with the gratitude... That kind of gushy crap is meant to be dished out in small doses, ' he gripes. 'Please make it stop... before I have to snap my own neck, just to end the suffering.' He backs away into the crowd, giving Tristan's shoulder one more slap with a sly wink. 'Hurry up, Man, and do something. Kiss her, muzzle her... shove a sock in her mouth-
Money, dished out in quantities fitting the context, is a social lubricant here. It eases passage even as it maintains hierarchies. Fifty naira for the man who helps you back out from the parking spot, two hundred naira for the police officer who stops you for no good reason in the dead of night, ten thousand for the clearing agent who helps you bring your imported crate through customs. For each transaction, there is a suitable amount that helps things on their way. No one else seems to worry, as I do, that the money demanded by someone whose finger hovers over the trigger of a AK-47 is less a tip than a ransom. I feel that my worrying about it is a luxury that few can afford. For many Nigerians, the giving and receiving of bribes, tips, extortion money, or alms-the categories are fluid-is not thought of in moral terms. It is seen either as a mild irritant or as an opportunity. It is a way of getting things done, neither more nor less than what money is there for.