Kakao please

 

Someone offered me coffee or tea today. I chose coffee. Obviously.
I was ready to sip it slowly, look deep into my cup, and act like I'm in a movie called "The Cool Keeds." You know, that “I drink coffee like the Americans” kind of vibe. My host smiled and said, “Oh! You can take as much as you want!” Nice, right? Except I had no idea what “as much as you want” actually meant.

Was it one spoon? Or two? But did I ask? No. Of course not. Why? Because I’m a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need instructions to make her own coffee.

So I took one scoop. “Hmm… will this be enough?”
My spirit said no.
I took a second.
Still no peace.

Then I added a third. I heard a loud voice of validation from deep within, like I’d just unlocked a new level. I proudly walked to the dispenser, poured in hot water, and stirred with pride.
Then I looked down at my creation and immediately smelled the danger. It smelt like I was preparing to write WAEC and JAMB all over again. I took one sip… and saw my whole life in PowerPoint slides. 

It was strong.
Like “write your entire thesis tonight” strong.
Like “pass this exam or have an extra year” strong.

But it was too late to back out. My host was smiling. So I smiled too, the polite kind of smile you give when your tongue is fighting for its life but all the people in the room are potential investors for your business. 

That day, I developed coffee-induced PTSD. Now, whenever someone asks, “Coffee or tea?” I just whisper, “Какао, please.”