Going towards Peckham on early morning runs – especially on weekends – it is not unusual to navigate the minefield of (used? I never stop to check) condoms (update: like this one seen Sunday 9th outside my church compound
) littering bus stops Sometimes, there is the odd pair of knickers or even a bra.
As an aside, why is it that these items of clothing always seem to belong to females? This is a pet peeve of mine; like when you watch films and it’s the women who are always fully nude or going full frontal. The men only seem to do so in ‘Oscar bait’ films or in roles of some poignancy or weight. It’s annoying. But maybe I am over-thinking this. Maybe the nature of men’s underwear – and anatomy – favours quickies without the need to shed one’s clothing. This does not excuse the films I talked about though, but that’s for another day.
In those instances – when I come across the condoms – I find that my mindset is more ‘At least someone is practising safe sex’ than ‘I cannot believe someone had sex in -2 degree weather at a bus-stop, how crass.’
But sometimes I come across some things which, try as I might, I cannot fathom a reason for their being in places they are. Exhibit A:
Oh the tales this could tell. I am curious though. Under what circumstances did whoever was wearing this – you can tell from the wings that it’s been unfurled and adhered to a surface – take it off IN PUBLIC? I know, periods can be annoying and all, but what brought this on? I have a few possible scenarios:
1) It was the last day of period and all through the street, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. Is that Raeshawn’s crew? Oh my days, he’s looking this way! Swear down, if he asks me to come yeeeaaaah….
2) God, this pad is itchy. Oh well, it’s not like I need it now. Rrrrrrriiiiiiiip!
3) Why you carrying that fam? Your mum? Eurghhhhhh!
There are a few other dark places my mind went but there is no need to ruin your day as well as your meal – even if some part of me is secretly glad to have done both!
(The other part of me is giving myself a good talking to on why I would see the silver lining in a discarded condom but go for the yuck factor in a sanitary towel. I’d better go now. This part of me is a nag.)
How to love Igbo things (or what you will). 