WHERE HAVE THOSE HANDS BEEN? A WEE TALE OF MAN-HANDLING.

I had just parked my car when I saw a familiar looking face cross the street. He looked very much like a guy who used to live in my estate. My eyes followed him as he went to the other side of a car parked in front of mine.

I recognized him – na the guy. I also recognized what he was doing between the car and the wall.  I quickly averted my gaze to avoid seeing junk-oni-junk.

 

But guys, seriously, why una too like to dey piss for road?

Ladies get pressed just the same way you get pressed, but you don’t see us watering the concrete anyhow. Self-control guys, exercise self control with your thingy – both in peeing and other things.

 

Anyway, I decided to ‘not recognize’ this guy again and jejely tried walking away to where I was going to. But then he had finished with his wee business, was walking back, and saw me. And smiled. And said ‘Heeeyyy’. And stretched out his ‘hand’ for a handshake.

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When I later narrated the encounter to a male colleague, he said I should have given the guy a full-unchristianly-hug instead.

Sadly, I didn’t think of that, and the Christian in me couldn’t leave his hand hanging, so I slowly stretched my hand like a lamb going to the slaughter. And he shook it.

 

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It felt like the cold hands of death just clasped mine.

Okay, I exaggerate a bit, more like the luke-warm hands of death. But did you know that up to 80% of infectious diseases are transmitted by touch? And that one palm alone can carry millions of bacteria?

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I think everyone should be personally responsible when it comes to hygiene. Be responsible enough not to get germs on you, and be responsible enough not to spread germs. It’s funny how you are more likely to find a lady in possession of a hand sanitizer than a guy. Meanwhile they are the ones who pay water rate on a pay-as-you-go basis. I don’t fault you for deciding to relieve yourself on the streets if you can’t won’t hold it till you get to a proper toilet, what I have issues is you not washing or sanitizing your hands immediately after. Or at least try not to touch anyone till your hands are clean.

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Back to my gist,

we exchange pleasantries, him smiling, me fake-smiling and inwardly cringing. Not just because I know where his hands have just been, but also because I don’t know the ‘other places’ his hands have been.

 

Immediately we finished our germ exchange, I raced to the nearest restroom to do some thorough washing, disinfecting, cleansing, casting and binding of any and all unseen creatures that might have migrated to my palm. Fire!

 

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This article was first published on RadioMouth. Head over there to read this and other cool articles.

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Orode

Tank driving, cheeky amazon from Warri Kingdom. Copywriter by day, blogger by night, foodie round the clock.

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