The Naija Slay Queen

Let me tell you a story…

A few years ago I was in Lagos trying to get the attention of one shiaman (chairman) to endorse or even invest in one of my ideas.

Having a sit-down with this guy was like cracking coconut with bare fists. While trying my hardest to catch the attention of this shiaman, I was introduced to this lady. One of those ones that you love to call ‘big girl’… the type that call themselves ‘slay queen’.

Apparently, she knew someone who was connected to this shiaman at the time. I’ll take what I get, I thought …. beggars can’t be choosers right? Fast forward to a few days later, we met at a popular Lagos Island hangout, my brother was also present. I was eager to meet Slay Queen.

I was half expecting her to walk in with ushers throwing red roses at her feet like they did in Eddie Murphy’s Coming To America…. or at least be carried in on a Litter Vehicle — that type that Idi Amin loves riding in… the type usually carried by 4 bastard-looking muscular men with white sackcloth tied to their groins like Greek gods.

I was a bit disappointed when she walked in just like I walked in… a mere human. Anyway, she sat down and like a gentleman, I asked what she wanted to drink… after a few ummms and hmmmms, she settled for Long Island Ice Tea… but we are in hot Lagos I thought. You couldn’t go for Soda Water or Pepsi, huh? I thought.

Anyway, as a sharp guy I quickly did a mental calculation of the cost… didn’t want to disgrace myself in the presence of a Naija Slay Queen y’know. As for me and my brother, we respected ourselves… and our pockets so we were already on the cheapest Cider… looking at it, you’d think it was Martini in a tumbler… I even wanted to ask the waiter to put like 3 olives to complete the look, but again I didn’t want to disgrace my self. I was so close to asking for tap water with ice… the place was that expensive.

Sorry, back to my story.. As soon as she took the first sip of her ridiculously expensive, wallet smouldering Long Island she said “so, how can I help you, young man?” Really? Anyway, I will indulge this little girl, I said to myself. At least na me dey find something. I told her about my need to meet this guy, the urgency to discuss an important business matter with him and of course the benefits to all involved.

After taking another sip (or was it a gulp?) of the Long Island that I converted Morafokin Pounds Sterling to buy for her, she opened her mouth and uttered these words “ok, I’ll see what I can do, but I know that he doesn’t like meeting guys that are hustling and doing fraud in Malaysia.

Those words sounded like a bomb. They shook the nonsense out of my body.

Me! Tea Drinking Big Boy from London… Me!

Me! That was eating Kellogg’s cornflakes for breakfast when my mates where eating ewa agoyin. Me!

Me! That started going on ‘oludey’ in The US and Jand by the age of 4. Me! Ground, ground, where art thou? Open up and accept my fall. The insult entered my body like how poto-poto (mud) enters a broken shoe….like how white enters rice…like how Tyson Fury entered Deontay Wilder.

If she felt I was hustling in Malaysia, how would she represent me to her friend who knows Mr Shiaman?? She finished her drink and left, asking me to call her in a few days time…. floating out of the bar like those guys in Rent-A-Ghost. After suffering this type of insult, my purpose for meeting Miss Slay Queen must be worthwhile right?

I never heard from Slay Queen again. I never got to meet Shiaman, he was removed from office when government changed. I never got to present my proposal to anyone else. I didn’t need to after all (story for another day).

Oh by the way, I was browsing through Twitter the other day and I saw Slay Queen had posted her bank account details for one of Don Jazzy’s random Covid-19 giveaways… for 5k Naira.

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