You see that sentence up there, which most times seem like a favor, have terrorized me more than ISIS, Al-Qaeda and Boko Haram put together has ever done to any country. Sitting in an almost empty rickety bus that keeps displacing me from my seat anytime it hits a pothole, my brain decides to dredge up an experience that I know I would need years of therapy to forget. Even a blind man knows that most of Nigerian roads are more of pot holes less of tar ones, so I was alternating between the window seat and the conductor seat which made the flash back more painful to recall.
Two years ago, I was in my second year in the University. Having successfully gone past the era of ‘fresher’, I made the decision to let the school go through me and not always the other way round. I felt bolder and braver. I decided to test the waters by doing away with most of my clothings that spelled out my naivety and went for something chic. Though there was an aspect of me that was yet to change: my make up routine. I was a white powder and lip gloss kind of girl, nothing more nothing less. Seeing my classmates all glammed up made me eager to learn a new makeup routine. I tried to learn but everything I did was getting me to look exactly opposite of my classmates. I ditched it, mentally reminding myself to do that after exams.
The week ahead got me all giddy because it wasn’t just going to be a mundane one as my roommate had planned on celebrating her birthday in Grand. Some where in my head, I had tucked away the dress I would wear. Checking it from time to time to avoid any change of plans or wardrobe malfunction. I already had a vivid imagination of what I would look like: I would wear a bodycon sea green gown and a silver slightly high heeled sandals( I was more comfortable on flats, but It was a risk I was willing to take). As I reminisced on my imagination I smiled sheepishly to myself but there was a little problem that was actually a big one. I didn’t visualize what my face would look like. I wondered who would do my makeup? I didn’t have enough money to call a make up artist because I felt it was trivial but I made up my mind not to go the party with a face bare of makeup. I was so happy with my thoughts I decided that there must be some one who would definitely make me up.
On the day of the party, I woke up like every other day and went about my normal day but always conscious of the time so as not to be late. Once it was 3’o clock, I turned deaf ears to anyone who tried to hold me back at school and took to my heels, straight to my house. When I got to my house, there were people I wasn’t conversant with but they were friends with my roommate so it was okay. As we got ready, make up kits brushes, clothes shoes were littered every where but no body picked them up. As I hung around trying to replicate what I saa around me, a girl who was also invited to the party offered to help me put on some make up. Grinning like an idiot I said a quick thank you and sat on a chair, then she began.
She applied the first liquid brown stuff, she could lay her eyes on, she told me it was called the foundation. I relaxed, thinking to myself anything that has foundation will definitely be strong just like a house. Using a small foam to blend it in. Then after a while i thought we were through but she applied another and another. She kept going on that I lost count and decided to relax. As she was applying them, my roommate had finished her make up. Then I beckoned on her to hurry up. Around 6:30 pm my roommate burst into the room saying the car we would ride with was here.
Then she announced she was through, grateful and glad I grabbed my purse and ran to the car as the other girls were scurrying like squirrels trying to get one thing or the other. As we sandwiched ourselves at the back of the car, I tried to take a picture but the image I saw staring right back at me made me skip a heart beat. Suddenly the car stopped. We had gotten to our destination. I felt like the ground should open and swallow me. The girls with me started giggling, the one who couldn’t hold it in burst out into fits of laughter. She said and I quote “ you face looks like a corpse embalmed” then everyone started laughing. The girl who had done the havoc to my face, was trying so hard not to laugh. So as we were standing there some guys approached us, Immediately they looked at me, I could never forget the look on their face. They kept coughing like tuberculosis patients trying so hard not to laugh. At that moment I couldn’t take it anymore, looked around for some water to wash my face. Immediately I did, I left there and boarded the first bus I saw to my house. At times it’s advised to stick to what you know.
Arueze Chisom Precious, a passionate writer can be reached through firstname.lastname@example.org