Stop Eating My Plantain You Greedy Bitches

plantain 300x225 Stop Eating My Plantain You Greedy Bitches

The girls we met in the sports shop that day in Landover mall were called Josephine and Courtney. While we didn’t see Courtney again, Josephine became a permanent fixture for the rest of our time there.

 

The day after meeting Jospehine, Henry went to work without dropping us off at the mall on his way.

 

The routine was broken…

 

The bastard had left us in his house in the sticks to fend for ourselves

 

And we sure did fend…

 

On waking and finding Henry gone earlier than normal, we assumed that he had just popped out, It was only after a couple of hours that the black book (ok it wasn’t black it was actually a sky blue colour with pictures of angels on the front) came out. I suggested that we call Josephine. Tamara was reluctant,

 

“We just met her yesterday. It’s too soon to call. We’ll look eager.”

 

I thought that waiting was stupid as we were only there for two weeks, but Tamara was insistent, so I didn’t call. Instead we raided the fridge (which only had liquor in it at that time), watched music videos on TV and attempted “borrowing” sugar from the neighbours (Isn’t that how neighbours always get to know each other in the films? It didn’t work for us; we only got dirty looks thrown at us)

 

I remember Aaliyah “Are you that somebody” was on heavy rotation…

 

If I let this go
You can’t tell nobody
I’m talkin’ bout nobody
I hope your responsible
Boy I gotta watch my back
“Cause I’m not just anybody”
Is it my go,is it your go?
Sometimes I’m goody-goody
Right now I’m naughty-naughty
Say yes or say no
Cause I really need somebody
Tell are you that somebody?

 

We sang that song until we knew the words back to front and were bored stiff by it. After we had tired ourselves out we called all the guys we had met in the mall in the blue angel book to set up meetings for the week. We then ended up calling Courtney and Josephine. Courtney’s phone rang out but Josephine said she lived around the corner and was happy to pick us up to take us to the weed spot.

 

Tamara was right the weed spot was full of hotties and it was well worth the $20 bag of weed we bought to get an up close and personal tour of the hood. The guy that actually sold us the stuff was the hottest we saw. We simply stared in awe while Jeannie, Josephine’s friend got her mack on. She worked with military precision. A simple “Aye!” and the next minute she would be scribbling down her number on scrap paper or typing in the digits on the mobile phone belonging to some guy.

 

We clicked with Josephine instantly and she introduced us to all her friends as her cousins from England. No one questioned why they had never heard of us before, and we didn’t offer up any information. By default Tamara and I became “sisters.” It made the whole charade easier.

 

Jeannie was Josephine’s closest friend at that time. In private we called her Lil Kim because she was short like Kim, had that persona and kind of looked like her too. Jeannie was overbearing and had an accent so broad that all you could do was nod along with whatever she was saying, unable to decipher a word amidst her accent’s thickness.

 

Tamara took a real disliking to Jeannie because she thought she was a ponce. We went to a shoe shop and she kept bringing different shoes over to Tamara and telling her how much she liked them, but couldn’t afford them. Each time she did it Tamara would hiss at me,

 

“What the fuck is she telling me for?”

 

Jeannie also asked Tamara what colours she had  used for the weave in her hair and then came out to the club with us with an exact replica of the weave. It was some Single Black Female type shit. Hilarious to me but infuriating for Tamara.

 

We arrived back at Henry’s in the night. He looked shocked to see us standing before him, no doubt wondering,

 

Where the hell did they go?

 

We told him that we went out with our new friend, which was the questions started, rapid fire,

 

“Where did you meet her?”

 

“Where did you go?”

 

“Where does she live?”

 

As the story unfolded his mouth dropped.

 

We were so honest back then…

 

“You met a woman in the mall and you just went off with her?”

 

You ain’t nobody’s daddy…

 

“You went to buy drugs? With a stranger?”

 

What the hell were we supposed to do? Sit in the damn house?

 

Henry huffed and puffed and grunted in his usual way. The infamous,

 

“Hmmmmpppffffff,” that he did with his furled lip and surly brow.

 

The “Hmmmmpppffffff,” that was used to mean any and everything from yes to no to everything in between.

 

He walked around the house hmmmmpppffffffing and hmmmmpppffffffing and hmmmmpppffffffing.

 

The next day Henry didn’t go to work at all. He wanted to take us out. We were excited, until we found out it was a Yoruba picnic.

 

Didn’t come to America to meet a bunch of Nigerians… We would have stayed in England for that…

 

We ended up not going to the picnic after much protestation. That day in a Bank of America in Maryland Henry made a play for me. As I lined up to change my Traveller’s Cheques into cash he whispered in my ear,

 

“I want you to be my baby.”

 

The sheer look of horror on my face must have said it all because he didn’t bother with any such suggestions again.

 

That night we went to a party at one of his friend’s houses. It was full of young girls and older men.

 

I ain’t looking for no sugar daddy…

 

The subdivision where the party was held was way livelier than where we were staying so we took the opportunity to leave the party and scope out the talent. We met a guy right near where the party was held called Carlton. My lasting memory of Carlton is his dry ankles. As gorgeous as he was his ankles were so dry that we couldn’t help but to notice them as his jeans swung when he put his foot up on the kerb to talk to us.

 

The next day Henry was supposed to be at work but since the “I want you to be my baby” incident it looked like he was no longer interested in entertaining us.

 

I didn’t want to be his “baby” so there was nothing in it for him…

 

Josephine was at work that day too, so we resorted to talking to random guys on the telephone and smoking our $20 stash which we could only do by picking out the tobacco from cigarettes with tweezers and pushing back in tobacco mixed with weed, since we had no papers and none of us knew how to roll properly anyway.

 

The munchies followed and surprisingly we found food in containers in the fridge with rice and stewed meat which we wolfed down with a plantain (one of three) that we fried.

 

We had arranged to meet two guys. One was called D’Marcus and wanted to take us to a park to take pictures. He said he was a photographer and that we should bring extra clothes. Another one was called Steve and said he wanted to take us out to brunch with his kid’s godmother. After the weed paranoia and laziness set in.

 

Pictures?

 

He was probably just a pervert…

 

Who could be bothered to frolic in a park anyway, like the poster child for a tampon advert?

 

The other option was,

 

Brunch with his Steve and his baby mama?

 

Or was it his kid’s godmother he had said he was bringing?

 

Either or… it sounded dodgy…

 

After going over the options we decided that with us being high, the bed was a more desirable option, so we put our headscarves back on and lay in the bed frozen every time the fax phone in the room rang.

 

Double booked…

 

Steve and D’Marcus trying to find out what the hell was going on…

 

Eventually we conked out.

 

Henry arrived back from work demanding answers,

 

“There were three plantains, now there are only two… There were 8 pieces of meat, now there are only 4.”

 

The bitch had wanted us to starve…

 

We had no comebacks for him… Who the hell counts plantain and meat?

 

The nagging began…

 

However the real shocker came the next day with the phone call from his girlfriend.

 

Girlfriend?

 

Yeah I was shocked too. He kept that one undercover.

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