Latifah (Very loosely based on a true story)

My Olfaction has never been so Unfortunate; never!. She reeked unbelievably; every morning, every day. A mixture of vomit, sour milk, fufu, spoilt beans and the ever present streak of human body odour: A hint of fuel on occasion and completely of faeces on Fridays. She was the scum of the earth; literally she was, she rolled in sand all day. We must have been in our early pre-teens; she was about eight years old at the time. No one ever spoke to her, not a word of hello or a “you Stink”; nothing, not a wave or a pretentious smile; absolute and complete silence towards her. No one except me; the occasional ‘hello, how are you doing’ but never at school, never in the presence of my friends. There was a wager; the first person to speak to her would be called prince or princess of the stink. it was only fair then as she was already the Queen. You would think girls would treat her better but they were far more brutal that the boys…Oh! the names they called her in her absence… Her hair was always full, never done, mud brown, very virgin with a generation of lice in joyful habitation. Her clothes were always tattered. Her nails were urgh! Her teeth were friends with the sun: a cousin to butter yet she smiled often. Her constant smiling remained a mystery to me. I sat next to her in class and she lived a block away from my parent’s house. She sat behind me on the bus to school and in front on our way back home. Everyone got a kick out of the fact that I was close to her in some way; besides, my mum and her dad used to be good friends.

To Be Continued…..


One thought on “Latifah (Very loosely based on a true story)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s