Funny mix-ups (fiction)

Mark, a visitor from Chicago, went to the Eke market to buy a gift for his hostess. He had practised one word all week: “akwa”, cloth.

He walked up to a stall and said it proudly. The seller smiled and handed him a basket of eggs.

“No, no,” said Mark, “I want akwa for a dress.” The seller thought for a moment and pointed at the bridge over the stream.

Mark tried again, higher this time. The seller brought him a small bag of tears. Well, a funeral lament in song, performed free of charge.

An old woman laughed until she cried. “My son,” she said, “akwa has four lives. You must choose the right tune.” Mark bought the cloth. He kept the egg, too.

Sarah wanted to tell the whole family she was bringing a friend to dinner. She said the word with confidence: “ényí”.

Auntie Ngozi dropped her spoon. “An elephant? To dinner? Where will he sit?”

Uncle Obi began measuring the doorway with his arms. The children cheered. Someone suggested the garden.

Sarah, red in the face, said it again with a different tune: “ényì”, a friend. Everyone breathed out and laughed.

The elephant was never invited. But for years afterwards, family dinners had an empty chair called “Sarah’s elephant”.

Tom was walking past a road-works team when every passer-by called out “Daalụ!” to the workers.

“Thank you?” he whispered. “For what? They are just digging.” He decided to say it too and was greeted with huge smiles.

Later, Chidi explained: “Daalụ comes from Da alụ ọlụ, keep up the work. We thank people by encouraging them.”

The next morning, Tom said “Daalụ!” to the baker, the taxi driver and a very surprised goat.

The goat did not reply. But the baker gave him an extra roll.