I see myself as a reserved person. I don’t go out, I don’t make friends easily and I don’t call people friends just because I know them. It’s an advice I got from my mother. She said, “Just because you know her doesn’t make her your friend. You know her and that’s all. Friendship is deeper.”
There was some truth in that so I carried it along as the gospel.
At the university I had a roommate who was everything that I was not. Benedicta. She liked talking, I didn’t like to talk or be talked to for so long. She liked going out at the times I loved to stay in. She had so many friends, I had none. She mistakenly thought I was her friend just because I was in the same room with her. She was my roommate and that was all. But there was something about Benedicta I found very enchanting.
She’s exactly what she tells you she is, no lies and no flavor. To date, anytime I think of authenticity, I think of her. She won’t tell you A and do B, never. Or she won’t ask you to go where she wouldn’t go with you. She thought me how to be a human in a world where everyone is trying to be a perfect plastic.
One morning I was awakened by this loud noise that sounded like a burst balloon. She was standing by the bed, naked and polishing her nails. I asked her, “What was that?” She said calmly, “I did. It was the sound of my fart.” I thought it was one of her crazy jokes. I just turned over and continued sleeping. The next four or so minutes, she did it again. I was awake. I heard it and I knew it was true. But how could she do that?
“Benedicta, I’m sleeping here.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Can you do it outside?”
“No, I can’t.”
For the next several minutes, all I heard were a lot of farting sounds. Some loud, some not so loud. She unapologetically shot it all out. I covered my head with my cloth so I could stay safe. I should have been angry but hey, that’s Bene for you.
That day’s topic for discussion was farting.
She said, “I’ve never heard you fart since we’ve been here together. What do you use your anus for?” “Villager!” I screamed. She responded, “Don’t make a mistake. To fart is human. To do it in front of someone makes you a real human. Who are you shy of?” I bragged, “Not that I’m shy of anybody. I’m a lady. I respect myself enough to know where and when to fa…” She screamed excitedly, “Yes! That’s what I’m talking about. Where and when to fart includes here. It’s just you and I. If you can’t fart in front of me how would you do it in front of your boyfriend?”
“Fart in front of my boyfriend? Are you for real?”
“You don’t fart in front of your boyfriend? So all the while you are together, what do you do when it comes?”
I wasn’t going to answer that and as far as I was concerned, farting topic was over. Too much fart for a day but Bene wasn’t going to stop and what she said finally sounded like philosophy from the books of Aristotle. She said, “You date with forever in mind. What it means is forever without farting. That’s a struggle. That’s painful. If you can’t fart in front of the one you’re going to spend forever with then you’re good at hiding who you are.”
Read that again but this time, put Aristotle’s name beneath it and everyone will believe it’s from him.
All day I thought about that statement and the more I thought of it the more it made sense but I wanted to know how others think about it so I started asking friends…
“Akos do you fart in front of your boyfriend?”
“We haven’t dated for long so we haven’t gotten to that stage yet.”
“Mavis, how long will you date a boyfriend before you start farting in front of him?”
“Hmmm…it depends on how close we are during dating but six months intensive dating will get me farting in front of him.”
“Rose, the first time you fart in front of him what did he say?”
“Hahaha, I was dozing off in his car and I accidentally let it rip. He immediately lowered the car window and I apologized. He kept spitting out of the window throughout the journey and that made me feel bad.”
I wanted to be sure. None of them said it was bad but they all cautioned that it should happen when one is comfortable with whom she’s dating.
I was comfortable with Alex. We had dated for two years and never did it cross my mind that it was a good idea to fart in front of him. “Are we pretending that we are perfect in all ways and are not capable of a good mess?”
So one day it came up in a conversation between me and Benedicta. I told her, “I would never do that in front of him. It’s not healthy for our relationship. She responded, “I’ve had a lot of boyfriends leave my life. Some even left because I was too good to them but trust me, none of these boyfriends left me because I farted in front of them. Your boyfriend knows you fart anyway so why hide?”
One evening, we were both seated watching a movie. It was intense like that so both of us were quiet and concentrating. Then I felt the urge. I didn’t waste time at all. I just lifted one side of my butt and let it slip slowly in its royal loudness. He turned his head quickly and asked, “Is that an accident or intentional?” I responded, “It’s an accident, I’m sorry.”
He burst out laughing and jumping in the room as though he’d won a lottery. He said, “Wonders, so you too you dey fart?” He paused the movie and laughed and teased me till I left the room. It felt like I’d opened some fresh gateway in our relationship. He never stopped teasing me. He would bring it up at the least chance he had.
One day, not too long afterward, we were walking towards his house when he grabbed my hand. He had this mischievous grin on his face. Just when I was about to ask him why, he pulled my hand quickly to his ass and farted on my hand. He then left my hand and quickly ran from me, all the while laughing hysterically. When he stopped he said, “I’m sorry it was an accident.” I told him, “I won’t let this go unavenged.”
When I narrated the story to Benedicta, she said, “Now you guys are legends. You have nothing to hide now.”
A week or so ago, a friend of mine shared her relationship story with me. She said, “I don’t think that guy takes me seriously. He doesn’t have any respect for me. He even farts in front of me. Maybe, it’s time to walk away before he begins shitting on me.” She wouldn’t listen to anything I say because her mind was made up and ready to leave the relationship.
What works for others doesn’t work for other people when it comes to relationship but I think leaving a relationship because of a fart is extreme. What do I know? Maybe I’m wrong but you reading this, what do you say?
—Sally, Ghana
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