Dancehall Queen Mampie

Wednesday, May 16, 2007 


So in the last blog I let you into my Nollywood groupie-ness.


After the picture taking we went to another club and there was more brandy flowing (oh I love Brandy.) Apparently Jim was with a girl. I say apparently because although this chick was in the first place where we were taking pictures I didn’t really notice that they were together (my friend said that it was wishful thinking) Anyways when we rolled up at the second club she wasn’t with them. We got to the door and then *POW* there she was. I think she knew someone in the club because she was the one that was instrumental in us getting to the front of the queue and getting in the place for free. I’m sure she didn’t want us (me and Tamara) there but it might have made her look bad if she started being bitchy like that, so in we walked.


I wasn’t paying attention to the girl and I really didn’t see much of her. Maybe it was a case tunnel vision, but I saw more of her “friends” than of her… They were quite friendly and kept smiling over. Tamara insisted that one of the ladies must have been her mama, because they looked so much older than her. Let me paint the picture for you. The girl that got us in was tall, and slim, modelish looking with a big long ass curly weave. It didn’t look like a weave to me but Tamara said she saw tracks. She looked in her early twenties and had a fake American accent, so we couldn’t really tell where she was from.


Her two “friends” were supersized mampies (thanks JE for bringing that word back into my consciousness) that looked somewhere in the mid forties, both spoke in thick Jamaican Patois. I only remember one of them well. It was hard not to keep on looking at her to check if she was real. I’ve never seen a character like it… not even in the film Dancehall Queen, which is the kind of scene where you imagine that she would fit right in.


She was huge and wore a shiny leopard print catsuit that was, like General Levy back in the day would say “tight like a vice.” Her weave was yellow and her skin matched it. The weave was up in a high ponytail and the tracks were stuck straight onto her head with no blending to try and make it match. I think perhaps she had a stocking cap on her head and stuck the tracks onto that. So you can imagine all around the hairline yellow tracks were stuck on in the direction so that it could be pulled up all the way round. So ALL her hairline was track. I didn’t get it. Tamara said that when you have been weaved out so much and your hairline has gone then you have no hair left to cover the tracks. So we could only assume that this is what had happened to her.


The catsuit was shiny and tight emphasising every lump and bump, added to that it was slashed down to her navel, not a small slash mind you, but slashed so the bits covering her boobies were as thin as dungaree straps. All you could see were these huuuuge knockers… I mean huuuge! And they were held together by a barely there bra. I mean I don’t know why she bothered. She may as well have just come out naked. I will still of the impression that they were the model girl’s friends because if that was my mama I would lock her in the house… I swear. I know one should respect thy mother and father, but ahhhhh Hell Naaaa! Mama would get locked up!


So we hung out in this VIP bit the entire night and then when we have left and are outside Jim’s friend tells us about an after party in Streatham… In my drunk state I thought that there really was a party, a real party! Then realisation dawned that the party was his house. While Jim’s friend is telling us about this party, Jim and his chick (the model looking one) are having an argument in front of the club. Tamara reckons that she was pissed that we came with them to the club… Who knows? We weren’t close enough to hear. I guess the friend thought he would try his luck because if you take two chicks home then your chances of scoring are better than with just the one! So while all this is going on we edged our way to the car and got going.


The next day Tamara and I lay watching movies, eating and just stinking up the house with unbathedness (is that even a word? HAHAHA) In the early afternoon in the midst of our movie marathon. Jim’s friend called to say he wanted to take us out to eat. He also added in that I was “wonderful company!” Can you imagine? I thought I was hearing things. I guess drunk is wonderful to a man, because it gives great entertainment value. He said that they’d be finished in the studio in the early evening and then he’d give us a call. We didn’t hear from him at all that day. Luckily we didn’t wait around to be fed and took our headscarfed clad unbathed selves to and African shop Barking Road where we bought more food than we could even eat.


Tamara left late Monday night and then on Tuesday I went to Patsie’s Auntie’s friend’s dinner party. Apparently they were hosting some VIP’s and wanted more women there… I thought there was some pimping going on but Patsie insisted that there wasn’t… (yeah right! LOL) The party was a classy affair apart from one drunk broad with big blond and black afro type do that we were convinced must be an ashewo (prostitute.) She was attacking the food with mucho gusto, whining up on some big belly men that were there and talking loudly and crassly whenever anyone had the misfortune to find themselves next to her.


After we had ate a little and drank a little we sat in the front room watching music videos to the sound of the music on the stereo. We had been there for about an hour and a half and were watching Rhianna’s umbrella –ella-la-la (why did I not even know what she was saying when I first heard it?) when the phone rang:


Me: Hello


Caller: Hello


Me: Who is this?


Caller: It’s Jeeeem


Me: JIM?


Patsie: JIM?


Caller: Yeah Jeeeem


Me: How did you get my number?


He never did explain how he got the number, he just changed the subject, but it was obvious to me that he got it from his friend that called the day before so I let it slide. He asked if he and his friend should come by and “peeeck” us since they were near where we were but as we were at the dinner do I had to take a rain check.


After being at the party for about 3 hours Patsie and I tried to leave but her Aunty was not going to let us leave that easily. She tried to entice us into staying by telling us about all the gorgeous men that would be turning up and how we would miss out. Of course judging by the men that were already there we knew better and were not buying into it. She could tell this and as Patsie turned her nose up she said to her,


“Oh nothing like those lot in there. The guests of honour haven’t arrived yet.”


Patsie replied,


“I don’t care.”


“Well you’re not leaving. You can’t leave yet. It’s still early.” (Bear in mind it was around 11 on a Tuesday night)


“But, I don’t even want to see these VIP’s!”


“Just wait a bit longer.”


“Will they have sons?”


HAHAHA I couldn’t stop bussing up when she said this. We knew full well they would be old men and her Aunty knew it too and so changed her tactics,


“You can network”


Patsie started up a business not too long ago, and it was true that this could be a networking opportunity, so we ended up staying.


It was just before midnight and the VIP’s still hadn’t turned up. Apparently they had been saying that they were on their way for the last four hours and still we had not caught sight of them. The guests had almost finished the food and had drank copious amounts so if they had turned up then it would have been a bust for them. Imagine turning up to a party in your honour and everyone is already winding down? We were tired and wanted to leave but Patsie’s Aunty still insisted we stay. In the end the only option, if we wanted to leave in one piece was to run out of the front door when she wasn’t watching and say bye from there! So that is indeed what we did.


Patsie later told me that VIP’s hadn’t arrived at all, so we would have been waiting in vain! Oh and about “Jeeem” I spoke to him a few times but we never did meet up…

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