In the Wine Shop last night..

I drive to the Wine Shop next to Tantalisers in Wuse II to buy wine for our evening get together with friends. Buying wine in Nigeria fills me with a vague sense of dread: no matter how nice looking the bottle - a Chianti, a Soave, a Barolo, the liquid that comes out of it is always a disappointment. Days of being overheated inside a container on the high seas is probably the reason why the wine you buy in Nigeria has almost always lost its joie de vivre.

As I enter the shop, I am struck by that familiar feeling in Nigeria: things are not quite right here. To the left, a man is sitting on a crate eating corn and chicken. To the right slightly behind a column, two men and three women are grouped around a little table, with two bottles of wine. The wine shop has been turned into an impromptu wine and snacks bar, with the poor guy behind the till powerless to stop the transition.

I peruse the shelves, which are mainly stocked with South African cast-offs, the Nigerian equivalent of going to a discount book shop in North London to buy pulp fiction for a pound. I avoid the Nederland reject stuff, and find a stack of Chiantis. Meanwhile, another part of my brain has tuned into the slightly unusual conversation that is taking place behind me.

Of the two guys, one is the alpha male, the other his wimpy cohort. The alpha male has options on all three of the women. It is clearly at his discretion whether he leaves one available for his hireling or not. The Big Man is wearing shorts, and is bespectacled. He reaches over to the girl sitting right next to his friend and holds her hands in his. Her face is pockmarked, the consequences of adolescent acne.

You are a fine looking girl. You know that?
She lowers her head shyly and says 'Thank you sir.'

A woman like you, you know what you want. You enjoy sport?
She stays silent, waiting for him to continue.

A girl like you, is used to physical exercise. You like fucking, is it not so?

His voice is husky. He is already in foreplay mode, turning himself on, here in the shop.

You are not one of these girls to stay indoors. Or do any of that lesbian stuff, are you?
His wimpy friend laughs out loud at this question, as do all the women. The alpha male is spurred to continue,

Why do all that lesbian stuff when you can be fucking a guy like me, is it not so? You know, although I am a bit older now, I still have my steel. I am still strong, and still made of steel, you know what I mean?

He chuckles a smoky husky chuckle, then continues his grunt monologue.

I have selected two Chiantis and a vaguely ok-ish white. I go to the till to pay. In the corner of my eye, I see the guy in shorts pouring more wine for his retinue. The silverback gorilla is going to play tonight. And three women have their sense of the value of men reduced that bit further to a narrow slice of life that goes by the name of economic survival.