I laughed the other day when a lady told me she was going to get ‘barbed.’ I didn’t get it till she explained she was going to the barber…! Uhh..!?? BARBED.? I see now it’s an actual thing, especially by West Africans. I suppose before we laugh, we should find out if it’s not actual ‘proper English’ – though I’d hazard a guess – NOT!
It reminded me – waiting on bank cards to be delivered in Dubai once, I told off the guy who eventually delivered, a day after being promised – I’d wasted a day waiting for him. ‘No, it wasn’t me,’ he said, ‘that other one.’ (Initial delivery dude) had had an accident and ‘he is expired!’
‘Uhhh (again) – turns out,…yahhh…shame, but imagine my confusion as I was waiting on replacement cards for ones that had expired.
I suppose there was a time and era for that kind of ‘proper English,’ and I guess if you hung with old school peeps, that’d be a thing. I’m just not sold on being ‘barbed.’ It just simply doesn’t sound right. If she hadn’t explained, I’d have thought she’d sustained some injury from a ‘barbed wire fence.’
I miss Dubai and the expressions and mannerisms of the people, especially with the taxi drivers. A spot wasn’t behind a place; it was ‘backside’ Passengers irate because they be ‘fingering,’ and no one is coming (pressing/ringing the call bell for attention). ‘Scotch on the rocks, no ice’ kind of requests. Walking Johnnie (no prizes). Bring me the mother of this one (egg) – it took a while – an omelette wasn’t doing it for him, and he apparently wanted the adult in question – and who I ask, is that…? Oh yes, life was another level of laughs.!