P.H.D.

P.H.D = Port Harcourt Dickhead

Victim = Me

Now, I know you must be thinking, why so dramatic? I bet you’re rolling your eyes too. But just hear me out.

I visited the city of Port Harcourt last month for an award’s ceremony. It was a great experience and I had the time of my life. I decided to stay back a couple more days, in the spirit of adventure.

Day 1.

I thought I’d go catch a movie, see how the ambience is in PH. So I did. Halfway into my movie, I felt a body bounce into the chair beside me. I turned around and saw a middle aged man, perhaps about 30, 35max. He introduced himself as Ebiere. He wasn’t exactly bad looking, dark skin and a beard to add that extra oomph. I smiled at him and we kicked off a conversation. He bought me dinner and yes, I had a great time.

Day 2.

Ebiere called me by 7am. I was on a vacation of sort so I was sleeping in. At 7am I’m always as grumpy as a gnome but I tried to be accommodating. We scheduled a date at Port Harcourt Polo Club which made me figure he might have some money. At 12pm, I arrived the venue and was accompanied to a small stand where he sat, sipping a glass of champagne. I was very impressed. Classy one, I thought. We had brunch at the club and I learned we had a lot in common. We talked for so long I didn’t realize it was already pretty late. He asked if I had to go back to my hotel, and I remember saying, “There’s no particular reason why I have to.” Right across the road was the Le Meridien Ogeyi Place and we spent the night there. Now I’m not the type to catch feelings randomly but I was beginning to feel some creeping in.

Day 3.

The next morning, he took me shopping for clothing as I’d not come out with any extra clothes. We went to Chimli boutique across town. I was having the time of my life. Well, that ended quickly. Just as we were about to head back to his car, a pretty, light skinned woman hopped out of a Benz, shouting and screaming. I can barely remember the specifics but it had “So this is why you didn’t come home last night…” and numerous versions of profanities in it. I backed up slightly. I really wasn’t in the mood to have my holiday ruined over some cheating man. I clenched my shopping bag tightly and turned around to go. Well, that wasn’t happening. The embittered woman pulled my hair so hard that about three of my locks flew out. The next thing I saw was a hand flying towards my face. Well, not today, sister. I grabbed her hand quickly and shoved her away towards Ebiere who I had, by then, figured was her husband. But the sister wasn’t backing down. She took off her shoes, and then her scarf and she tied it around her waist. At that point, I realized it was either fight a woman over some man or run like hell.

Well, let’s just say my head still hurts from my heel smacking it.

Day 4.

I woke up at 7am feeling like crap. The run from the previous day had taken a toll on me. I took a shower and started packing my things. I threw in all my clothes and then squeezed my new clothes into my hand luggage. At least, I had some beautiful new pieces from that whole mess. I took a cab to the airport, bought a ticket across the counter and headed to the check in. Just then, my phone beeped. A text message had come in. From Ebiere. It read, “Hey baby, can I see you today?”

I took off my shoes and dropped it in with my hand luggage in the tray and watched it slide to the other side while dialling Ebiere’s number.

“Hello”, he said excitedly.

“God punish you.”

Silence.

“God punish your entire lineage. Thunder fire you and your audacity to send me that rotten text. May God continue to punish you…”

I heard the officer on the other side calling out, “Who owns this luggage!” but I was lost in my own world, raining curses on that Port Harcourt dickhead.

Miss Chioma, an occasional Port Harcourt resident, writes unbelievable tales about her experiences, when she’s not vloging about books and movies

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