Noodles – Joemario Umana

CHARACTERS:

Three boys, all in their twenties.

SETTING:

A students’ compound, morning.

SCENE:

It’s 9 a.m. The sun is just beginning to warm up the day. The sunlight spills generously over the compound,the orange-painted walls, interlocking bricks, and an empty bottle of Swan water lying on its side. From an open doorway, the symphony of Afrobeat mingles with the rhythmic hiss of a lit gas burner. Bright, leaning casually against the doorframe, watches the compound as though it were his kingdom. Beside him, Emediong sits on a broken-armed plastic chair, scrubbing at a stubborn stain on a shirt. A few feet away, Hassan, holding a bowl of leftover dishwater, stares at them, amused.

BRIGHT (BOY AT THE DOOR): (gesturing animatedly) My guy, I no wan hear anything. Wizkid na the GOAT. Davido na just one industry pikin wey dem dey force feed us.

EMEDIONG (BOY DOING LAUNDRY): (without looking up) Ah, Bright, you dey whine me? Baba, check streams, check awards, check vibes. If we wan argue, abeg bring receipts.

BRIGHT: (laughing, shouting over the music) Receipts? Better sound no need receipts. Wetin dey save your goat na auto-tune. I swear, if dem remove am, Davido voice go sound like him swallow razor blades.

HASSAN (BOY WITH THE RUBBER BOWL): (bursts into laughter, bowl slipping from his grip) Kai! Wetin you talk? Razor blades? (laughs harder, crouching to pick up the bowl) True sha, Emediong. Na auto-tune dey package your guy.

EMEDIONG: (pausing his scrubbing, clearly irritated) Una two no dey serious. Na only Wizkid fit drop EP wey sound like lullaby, and una go still call am GOAT. Abeg, mek him enter studio go bleat. 

BRIGHT: (grinning, stepping back into his room) At least my goat no dey scream like him dey collect slap for studio. Hold that one.

The door swings halfway shut behind him, muffling the Afrobeat.

HASSAN: (laughing) Emediong, calm down abeg. You dey sweat pass your shirt because of goat wey no even sabi you.

EMEDIONG: (about to retort, then stops) But—

BRIGHT: (reappears suddenly holding his phone) Abeg, abeg. Wizkid and Davido one side for now. Una don hear wetin dey sup?

HASSAN: Sup for where?

BRIGHT: (looking at his phone and scrolling) Our school girls don cast o, guys. Videos dey fly everywhere like flies. Dem dey call am “Noodles”.

EMEDIONG: (frowns slightly, rinse his hands in the soapy water and wipes them on the back of his shorts) Noodles? Wetin you dey talk?

BRIGHT: (laughs) Noodles, as in nudes – same thing. Girls from our school don dey leaked videos up and down. E no pure at all.

HASSAN: (blinking, unsure if he heard right) Wait. You dey serious? Like, actual…nudes?

BRIGHT: (nods and thrusts his phone toward them) See as I dey talk, dem just drop fresh one this morning. Una dey sure sey una dey this school?

EMEDIONG: (walks back to the broken-armed chair and sits down) Bright, just fash that thing. 

HASSAN: (hesitating, then peering closer) Who dey inside? You sabi anybody?

BRIGHT: (grinning mischievously) Wait first. Mek I scroll—

EMEDIONG: (interrupting, standing abruptly) Bright, abeg stop. Wetin you wan achieve with this? You no even fit reason say na somebody life dey scatter like this?

BRIGHT: (surprised) Omor guy, calm down. You want beat me ne, abi na your phone? Your babe dey inside ne? 

HASSAN: (pausing, suddenly serious) Sha sha. True talk, Bright. This no be something to laugh about. If dem fit leak that kind thing, e fit happen to anybody.

BRIGHT: (momentarily defensive, lowering the phone) Ah-ah, why una dey vex? I no be the person wey record am na.

EMEDIONG: No, but you dey help spread am. Think am,if na your sister or babe dey for that video, you go still dey laugh?

BRIGHT: (pausing, looking conflicted) Ah! Agba defender, no vex o. No sha bring my sister or babe into this. Dem no fit. 

HASSAN: You sure?

EMEDIONG: No mind ahm

BRIGHT: Sha, I no even think am like that.

EMEDIONG: Exactly. You no sabi wetin push the person to make that video. E fit be sey she dey try feel loved, or maybe dem manipulate her. We no go ever know the full story, but wetin dey sure be sey she no deserve this.

HASSAN: (nodding, stepping forward) Even if she do am for her own reasons sha, na her body. Her own. Nobody suppose dey drag her like sey she commit crime.

BRIGHT: (quietly) But the internet no dey forget. Abi una don forget that one? If she no want wahala, she for no record am.

EMEDIONG: (firmly) And so? She be human being. We all dey do things we go regret later. But that no mean sey people suppose use am finish her life.

HASSAN: True talk. Instead of dragging her, we suppose dey ask why people dey so comfortable exposing another person’s private life. Na them we suppose blame, not the victim. And no be sey some of us no dey run this thing. Sha sha, na who dem catch, be thief. 

The Afrobeat fades to silence as the MP3 player announces low battery. Bright walks in to plug it to a power bank. He returns and leans against the doorframe, quiet.

BRIGHT: (softly) Na true talk sha. I dey act like sey e no matter, but e fit be anybody. Even us.

EMEDIONG: (smiling faintly, picking up his bucket) That’s the point, my guy. If we no go like am for ourselves, make we no dey encourage am for another person.

HASSAN: (grinning slightly, trying to lighten the mood) Na wisdom you dey talk now, Bright. See how you don resemble your name. (laughs) Wizkid dey inspire you?

BRIGHT AND EMEDIONG: (in unison, shouting) Oga shut up!

They all laugh, the tension easing slightly. A faint sizzling sound interrupts them, and Bright suddenly remembers he left something on fire. He sprints away from the door into his room. 

HASSAN: You sure sey no be noodles you bin put for fire so?

EMEDIONG: (laughing) Him go use style tell us sey na new recipe him bin dey try. As if sey the food no burn. 

Bright reappears moments later, holding a steaming pot with two pieces of torn papers, grinning sheepishly.

BRIGHT: Oya food don ready. Make we enter. Na today we go settle this Wizkid and Davido matter properly.

EMEDIONG: (laughing as he stands up) See this one. Him think sey him go win. 

HASSAN: (laughing) Shey you no go keep quiet before you enter voluntary fasting 

They all laugh as they head inside Bright’s room. The door shuts behind them, muffling their laughter as the scene fades.

Joemario Umana, Swan XVII, is a Nigerian creative writer and a performance poet who has works in journals such as Trampset, Strange Horizons, Isele Magazine, Brittle Paper, Poetry Sango-Ota among other literary journals.

*Image by Adeboro Odunlami on Unsplash