the praying mantis

Knowing that quite a few people enjoy me exposing my many foibles, I thought I’d just hit ya’ll up with another classic from the kid. This one is very embarrassing but I’m still here standing, ain't I? Yeah! That’s right! Chichi’s a tough one. (Whatever). Anyway, enjoy this blooper from Kid Confusion.

Hail Mary, grant me grace!

My boy Chris transferred to Kings College in senior secondary school and immediately left an impression on everybody – son was nuts!!! He was a funny talking, funny walking, outspoken dude. He settled in real quick and became one of the more popular dudes out there in no time. This of course, has its downsides. Unluckily for Chris, he got into some trouble with seniors which escalated into regular sessions in the Principal’s office and it just got way outta hand.

Back home, his mother obviously wasn’t happy about that. What mother would? You don’t want your son in any kind of trouble. Being the first time such was happening, and being in a new school, naturally, blame has to shift unto the “new” friends who must be bad influences on her boy. This is the vibe I got, not saying it was for real but I couldn’t blame her though. New environment, trying to fit in, he could easily mingle with the “wrong crowd”. So anytime we were over, I always felt a bit uncomfortable because I felt she saw us as some of these bad influences on her son. We are still best mates after 11 years (12 maybe) so we clearly weathered that storm. I should go see her really.

Anyway, back to the story. So, judging from how uncomfortable I was just visiting, imagine my pulse rate the first weekend I spent over. Ohmigawd! It was quite tense for me, so I ended up hiding out in the room all day. Dinnertime, however, I couldn’t escape. We all had to sit at table for dinner. This was a practice that was discontinued at my house ages ago, so it was kinda odd, and with the woman I was in awe of as well, sat right there. If being a bad influence was strike one, dinner was strike two. Observe.

So, we all sit round the table and the spread is before us. I spot beans. I don’t do beans. So I dish rice and stuff when it is my turn but avoid the beans. She asks why? I say because I don’t eat beans. She doesn’t like this. She asks if I am allergic; to which I reply, No, I just don’t like it very much. She then responds by giving me the lecture my mother has given a million times; about so many hungry children that would kill for beans but I say I don’t eat beans? Rubbish! At this point, I should take heed to the signs from Chris and his bros to let it go; and even the body language of his dad (GOD rest his soul) should have clued me in. But no, not Chichi. This part, I really don’t remember quite clearly because strike three drowned out every thing else. You’ll see. Anyway, I believe she asked me to have some which I politely refused (still rude of me either way, I mean, I was in her house at her dinner table) and that didn’t help matters much. I must confess I was scared shitless but nothing would scare me more than the after effects of beans! She wasn’t very impressed. She just had a standoff (more like a sit-down) with a silly kid and he didn’t back down. As I said earlier, STRIKE TWO!

Now the final mess up. I didn’t mention they are staunch (well their mom anyway) Catholics now, did I? Emphasis on staunch! So, nighttime just before bed is prayer time, to thank The Father for the day about to end and receive blessings for the one to come. I had no problem with this as I went to a catholic primary school and had regular fellowship meetings at home with moms and dear old Aunty Ashake (GOD bless her soul, it is well).

So, we’re all in there, knelt down as his mom leads the way. And as usual, the boys are tucked in the corner making faces and trying to disorient each other so as to get someone a bullocking. Little did we know Chichi would sort that out for everyone. So, she announces the Bible passage to be read and charges each person to read a certain verse or two. I ignore everybody else’s reading because I am going over mine repeatedly until it is my turn, to make sure I don’t mess it up. You’d think I didn’t know how to read. It was pretty straightforward and I didn’t sweat it and just kicked back till it was my turn, and eventually, my moment in the spotlight came.

I cannot now recall the passage but I can recall the atmosphere. You know you’ve done something when you can silence an already silent room. I begin to read, then I come to the tricky (it was straightforward, nothing tricky about it) bit. My eyes see the sentence and my brain processes the message to read (not too sure of the exact text now but the key word is unchanged): “The virginal womb of His mother, Mary.” However, my mouth, probably holding a personal grudge against my brain and the rest of my body, eager to get even, blurts (read: blurt, not whisper, not mention, not utter but BLURT) out: “The vaginal womb of His mother, Mary.” I believe the expression: “Mother of God!” would have been appropriate in this instance. And the sad bit is, save for the shocked reactions of everyone around me, I may not have noticed what I just said. Chris let out a chuckle before he controlled himself; his brother John had his mouth wide open for what seemed to be eternity; their mom, who had her back to me shot straight up but didn’t turn around (poor woman) and their Dad whom we thought was asleep at this point, gave me that sideways look like “Nah uh! You didn’t just say that young man.” I did the only thing I could – I kept reading! STRIKE THREE!

Neither of the parents made mention of it but the boys didn’t let me live this one down. It still has to be my most embarrassing moment ever. I was already in awe of this woman, had turned down her food and now, sacrilege! That was the moment I wanted the ground to swallow me up and never spit me out. The deed was done and apologizing would only make it worse. But how do you act like that never happened? If one person had caught it, then fine but the whole room? Nah dawg. That was a done deal.

I still stayed till Sunday as planned and redeemed myself (or so I thought) the following night by delivering a flawless reading but I can bet my bottom dollar the passage was carefully picked this time around!

Safe to say, I and Mrs. A are cool now but I still feel a slight chill from time to time whenever I’m around her still. I’m buggin’ but hey, I do describe myself as a big kid @ heart, no? It’s Chichi at his best ya’ll!

Funny thing though, every time I think about it now, this is all that goes on in my head:

Holy Mary
Mother of God
Pray for us sinners
Now and at the hour
Of our death



















AMEN!