“Poochie poochie, googoo gaagaa” (Mar. 2005).
What’s with the baby talk when adults are with babies? I was guilty of this when we first met our then 2-month-old grandson, Kabrim, in A t l a nta. He looked at me curiously as if asking his mom: “Is this sweet, rather crazy old man related to me? He kinda looks like you, mom; but why does he keep saying ‘poochie, poochie’?”
“… And, oh wow! Please confirm that this very lovely lady by his side is his wife … which makes her my grandma? Oh, there is a God! …Mom, this fantastic lady better be your mom, or I am adopting her, anyway. Grandmaaaaa!”
“Whatcha gonna do, hit me with your purse?” (1979).
That put down came from this very large person as we stood in line to get tickets for a movie, and he would not wait for his turn. I was not even holding any thing at the time, not even as much as my wallet. Well, oh well! Obviously he was challenging my manhood. How dare you! You this …. So, with little regard for my personal safety, I grabbed my wife’s purse and, quick as a flash, hit him with it, whack! Then followed up with my best “kung-fu” poses, my heart racing so hard I thought I was having a heart attack. The guy just laughed and went back in line. Man, to this day I ask myself: “What the hell were you thinking?” … “And what are you doing with your wife’s purse in public, you macho man?”
“When is the next flight to O m a n < / s t 1 : p l a c e > < / s t 1 :country-region>?” (1997).
Initially, Grace did not want us to move to O m a n < / s t 1 : p l a c e > < / s t 1 :country-region>; but something I said got her checking the flights fast. She thought I was going on a 6-month project. Well, a funny thing happened and I fell for the place big time. She still did not want to join me, until I reminded her that O m a n < / s t 1 : p l a c e > < / s t 1 :country-region> is a Muslim country where you are allowed 4 wives! Amazing how a simple piece of information like that can help change a person’s mind.
“What was it like going to school on tree tops?” (1980).
Shortly after I bagged my PhD in petroleum engineering, a colleague was really impressed and wanted to know how I did it. I explained that I’ve had excellent educational grounding in both N igeria (primary and high school), and U K < / s t 1 : p l a c e > < / s t 1 :country-region> (undergrad.) “Still,” he insisted, “it must have been rough going to school … on tree tops.”
I pondered for a second, and decided to play along. “Yep,” I mused, “and my dad would drive our car up the tree to get me, until I was old enough to drive myself up there, park it, and drive back down after school.” I was totally unprepared for his next remark: “Cool; wow, how exciting!”