My new neighbor is a Gen-Z Ambassador.
Loud Speakers
Blue Lights
Vintage Polos
Rough looking Jeans
Crazy hairstyle
And worst of all, he lacks manners.
He packed into an empty apartment in our compound, two weeks ago and we’ve not known peace since then.
I wonder if he ever leaves the house for work, because he looks exactly like a fraudster; an upcoming fraudster (you know what I mean).
Every night, once it’s 10PM he would switch on his big size JBL speaker and be jamming Asake’s ‘Lonley at the Top’. Then he puts it on ‘repeat’ till the early hours of the morning.
Doesn’t wash his clothes.
He has been re-wearing this crazy Jean for the past three days. Does nothing but walks round the compound making numerous provoking calls and promising so many unfortunate girls how he will buy each one a Lamborghini in the future.
Like I said; he lacks manners. Doesn’t greet. Doesn’t say hi. Feels he is a ‘one-man-battalion’.
Our caretaker (who lives in the same compound with us) knocked on his door few days ago, telling him how loud his speaker was and the need to reduce the volume. But he only hissed and shut the door behind him. He shut the door on a 60-year old man.
Yesterday night, someone knocked on my door.
Guess who?
Our Gen-Z Ambassador.
He came to ask for two cups of garri.
Told me he hadn’t eaten for two days.
“What do you mean you haven’t eaten for two days, how then did you pay rent for the space which you’re occupying?”
“Madam, it is not my house, it is my Oga’s house. When he comes in tomorrow, I’ll leave”
I paused.
The mental shift was so sudden.
“So nothing in that house is yours?”
“At all” he replied.
Where do you live?
“Ruktown”
Ruktown was an area where unserious lazy young boys lived. Didn’t like school. Didn’t want to work. Went about impregnating young girls. As such, it now made more sense that he couldn’t even afford the rented space, nor the speaker which he used to terrorize us.
“Who owns the rented space?”
“It’s my boss, I work in his mechanic workshop; he travelled outside the state, so he instructed that I should move his things inside the house and stay there till he’s back next week”
He knelt down and requested again for two cups of garri. Said his boss hadn’t sent him money to eat for the whole day due to network problems. Said I looked like a calm person and that’s why I’m the only one he’s approaching in the compound.
I shook my head in disappointment.
“You lack manners, you’ve been disrespectful since you came in here, you also disrespected the landlord the other day, I won’t give you anything”
I shut my door. Went back inside. Lay beside my husband and tried to get some sleep, but this Gen-Z ambassador won’t stop knocking.
I quickly rushed to door so that my husband won’t wake up from his peaceful sleep.
“Please ma, please mummy, please mummy” he pleaded like someone about to faint.
I gave him two cups of garri as requested.
His countenance changed. He prostrated as a form of appreciation. He couldn’t stop saying ‘thank you ma, thank you sweet mummy’
“Please leave before my husband wakes up”
The next day the real owner of the house came. He was a middle aged man. Muscles definitive. Evidence of dealing with Iron, spare parts and all. The man (Ken) learnt of what his boy (Gen-Z Ambassador) had done.
Took the Gen-Z Ambassador by his hands, went to everyone’s doorstep in the compound, apologizing and telling us how he picked up the boy from his village, in order to help his life.
I laughed. This was the same person (as at last week) promising so many girls (at the same time) how he would buy each one a Lamborghini. I also learnt he was just 17, though he looked way older.
The next day, the Gen-Z Ambassador left.
That’s not the end.
The end of it is that, I heard from every other neighbor (several days later) that he had asked each of them for two cups of garri.