IN THE SPIRIT OF NIGERIAN TAILORS.

Some Nigerian tailors are wonderful people I swear!

You’ll give a Nigerian tailor a material in 1967 and say to him/her,

 ‘Abeg oh I go use am for 2015, shey e go don ready by then?’

To which they’ll reply,  ‘Ah ah Oga! Why you dey talk like this. 2015 still far na. Me? Tailor swift? Oga come by 12 midnight for 1914 e go don ready. I go do correct throw back Thursday for you. No worry.’

And you know how the story goes. It is 2017  and you’re yet to get that cloth, generations after generations.

It usually starts with a friend recommending one very sweet, nice and sharp tailor for you.

‘See Stevo! If that guy sew cloth for you ehn, you go dey over sharp. No near people o because you go dey cut dem like razor blade. Abeg oh! I don tell you oh, I no sabi write statement for station oh!’

And with that you’re sold.

You realize your calling in life is to slay; to cut people so deeply with your wears that they’ll be bleeding with admiration.  You seek out this tailor.



At first, you’ll give him one simple sturvs to test his hand and in a record time, it is ready. You wear it and blood everywhere. People are crying, they are wailing, they are shouting, 🎵what manner of man is Kingsley, halleluyah!!!🎵

And then you make the grave mistake of giving them something important to sew.
The event is in December so to avoid stories that will make your life start paining you, you give it to him in June. You show him the style that you want to which he replies.

Ahn! Oga this is a small something na. This style is no longer Taofeek, sorry on fleek. Infact by the time I am finished with this material eh’ ojigbijigbi he says as he slaps his head, ‘you won’t recognize yourself again. ’

YOU WON’T RECOGNIZE YOURSELF Again.

Our people say to be forewarned is to be forearmed. Is the above statement not warning enough? Isn’t it supposed to arm you with a shakabula of commonsense? Yet, you hear it and pay it no mind to your detriment, because you’re thinking this guy is about to turn you to buffy the fashion slayer.

I feel that there is a spirit in tailors that tells them you’re the profeshuna here just forget what that guy has said. I figure the conversation between them goes something like.

Spirit of Jagajaga and nonsense: ‘Feeky!’

@feeky hashtag sewing is bae:  'The spirit calls again.'

'How many times did I call you? ’ the spirit enquires.

‘Two times master,’ Feeky replies.

Spirit of Jagajaga and nonsense:
' I command you this day. Sew thine own. Sew whatever thine heart thinketh. Verily I say unto you this day as the profett olamide said in the days of old. Who hath your client epped? Who doth he know? Has he cleansed himself?'

And that is how Feeky Onye Ara, whom you gave a blue material to sew senator for you, will not even even sew at least Governor, House of Reps, or even SUG president. He’ll be beaming with pride as he is trying to convince you to try the white lace jumpsuit he sewed for you, claiming it is the newest trend in town, while you stare at him with a what-the-hell expression.

At least if you even get the one that sews nonsense for you, that one is better. What about those ones who will give you some kind of excuses that will make you shout Okotie and Abba! Father, simultaneously.

One week he was in his sleep and a voice said to him that if he sews anything that week, he will die.
Next week, a trailer jammed a keke, which now veered off the road, spinning uncontrollably and ended up jamming an okada he was on, and he flew, high,

🎵higher higher higher, higher feeky higher, 🎵

Till he landed on his hand, and when he woke up from his dreams, his hand had broken.

And when you think you have heard it all, you call him three days to the event and ask why your cloth isn’t ready and he tells you he is emotionally traumatized because his dog died. And when you go to his shop and finally catch him there, you’ll find both him and his apprentices wailing loudly and wearing black shirts with Adieu Bingo! written boldly in front.

Life at that point, effectively tires you. You resignedly ask when the burial of Bingo is because you want to pay your last respect to two things that’ll never return and seem lost forever.

Bingo, Feeky’s best friend, and your cloth, gone too soon, called to glory, after a life not even spent.

Tailors.
Wehdone sirs/mas

Share your experiences in the comments.

With Love,

Written by Stephen Eke ©2017

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