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Naughty wife talks: Onitsha, tight-arsed town



Now, I have the time to talk about what my eyes saw in Onitsha. That town has always scared me since I was a child and we travel through it to our village every two years. I remember how my father would haul nine of us, including my mother, through the ever-busy streets of Upper Iweka, chasing the barrow boy.

Going through Onitsha was a thrilling and scary concept built on all the portentous warning I got through the years: Hold your father well; walk as fast as you can; do not let the barrow boy out of your site; there are a lot of criminals there; you don’t slack in Onitsha!

As a teenager, I avoided passing through Onitsha even though I longed to visit the biggest market in West of Africa. Now as a grown up, I have no choice but to visit Onitsha once in a while. I must go there and live there for some days within a year or two. What baffles me about the town is that it has one of the best road network and housing plan in Nigeria but you don’t really notice it until you look harder through the haze of man-made chaos.

People living there have so marauded the town that you hardly notice its good qualities. As ghettoish as Nkpor looks, this area could boast of hundreds of three or four storied buildings of good quality in precise formation. But the shylock landlords are so myopic that they do not think of repainting or renovating these buildings at least once in ten years, so the place always looks like a mad woman’s cunt.

Onitsha denizens have nice and wide gutters in major areas, and they have found a better use for their nice and wide gutters Gov. Peter Obi built for them. It comes in handy to barbecue thieves, from Onitsha to Obosi. I don’t think they realise that such kind of gutters are meant as drainage system.

Another thing that gives me headache in Onitsha is the megaphone preachers that woke me up every 4 or 5 a.m. they wake you up with this awful, crass voices that sound like that of a boozed out wretch. And they sing with such pointed acrimony, so that it would pain you very well in your bed.

These preachers so love to talk about sinful women. They hate women who fuck a lot. In fact they hate women that wear trousers and they think that it is the worse sin in the whole wide world. Even the bus preachers have serious beef with women sinners.

Then, one thing I liked in Onitsha, is the way the ladies packaged their buttocks very well in tight fitting gowns or skirts. I live in Abuja, but I tell you, the tailors here cannot hold a candle to the tailors in Onitsha. How do they manage to sew clothes to tight a woman’s nyansh like that to perfection? I spent most of my time scrutinising parades of well-aligned buttocks.

I still hate using public transport inside Onitsha. Every keke man is trying to gyp you if they noticed you are a visitor. Even one old keke man had to battle with his conscience for a long time, to decide whether he should cheat us or not.

With the kind of stories you hear, don’t even flash your expensive phone along the road. What would remain for you is to hide your expensive handbag, so that no evil eye would see it.

If you live in Onitsha, there is no way you won’t be tight-arsed. You are always at alert and go to church to thank your God for surviving each minute. How do these guys even find the nerves to fuck? I mean I wouldn’t if I lived there.

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