Foreign Food and Local Bellies

Don’t we all love to sample new and foreign cuisine. Don’t we see pictures of these dishes in magazines and on the television screen  and just salivate?
One advice from me to you – dont eat just any food you come across. Dont let your adventurous lifestyle take you down that path it took me.

People who know me well know that I can eat anything. The food can be soggy, dry, hard, wierd, or even food that looks as though is still alive. I love to experience new and exciting things. It was this excitement that pushed me to the restaurant of a Guinean. My assistant, a Liberian, introduced me to the place. Their specialty that morning was Beans and Spaghetti, the Guinean way – mayonnaise, chunks of onions, plantain and all – ‘and all’ means unidentified ingredients and garnishing. It was delicious and the excitement was welcomed. It was the other excitement that wasn’t. This excitement started as i got back to the office. Just as I was to attend to someone important my belly made a sound it hadn’t made before. It clearly sounded like that of rejection. My rear joined in the chorus and I could feel the ripple on my skin. And with that I headed straight for the restroom. I was faster than Superman in a telephone booth. I didn’t even realize my pants were off. Didn’t realize I was already sitted and you know … trying to do the business. I wasn’t aware of anything around me until I heard it. It sounded like someone ripped a blanket. As I turned around to see what it was, knowing at the back of my mind that I was alone there, I felt coolness hit my rear. You know how it is when you fart while …doing the business, if you fart real hard the air just bounces of the toilet water and up on your butt cheeks. Disgusting.

Anyway, at that point i felt it was too loud and the visitor at the waiting area must’ve heard it. So when I felt more bursts coming I tried tightening my…the…opening. But this turned out to be a very bad idea. For every escape of gas came sounds of passing helicopters, trucks, and motorcycles. I tried singing aloud to kill the sounds. No way. I regretted leaving my phone behind, for then was a good time to play some music. I should have played music from the laptop, let huge speakers in the area save me from the mess

(get it? mess?)

Several aircrafts and trucks later, I was done. I came out in less than a haste to find my assistant unusually focused on his work. It was clear he had heard the traffic from the restroom. My visitor, he was standing at the door looking outside, he clearly looked like he didn’t want to embarrass me. But apparently, it only served to embarrass me.

I ushered him in and began with the words “I ate something I shouldn’t have“.

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One thought on “Foreign Food and Local Bellies

  1. Pingback: I love poetry. I do? | diiwanna's Blog

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