Loose mouths

“Sometimes you should get to know people before you open your mouth and start saying rubbish,” I said to Ada, quietly but with a steely voice, and I bet she could see the anger on my face. Ada and her two minions, as we called them in our department, were some of the most judgmental people I've ever seen.

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They loved to make side talks about people's lives, people's dressing, hairstyles, posture, walking steps, anything in general relating to condemning a human being. No one was spared from their sharp tongue, including me. Ada was the spokeswoman of their group, but I had a tough skin and never let her words get to me.

Ada and I had close matric numbers, and that's how we ended up talking, but I discovered her character and limited our closeness to only the exchange of pleasantries. I can't count the number of times I've heard her say, “You and these two slippers, buy a new one,” or “Hi, this dress is fine, but it doesn't fit you. Is it your sister's?” Or whenever someone made a new hair, “Wow!! Look who decided to change hairstyles!”

I like to tell my friends that I was the one who had the right reaction to Ada's tongue. Whenever she made such comments to me, I didn't stop to listen; I just walked past as if no one had spoken, and even when she tapped me or tried to block me, I acted as if no one was in front of me. It made my friends laugh, and they all started doing the same.

But on this fateful day I couldn't just ignore the words I overheard from Ada's mouth. It was concerning another girl, Ebube, who I happened to know closely and lived with in the same hostel. Ada was talking about how poor the girl looked, how she walked, and other vile things. The words that made me stop were when she claimed Ebube was into “hook-ups” and still couldn't use the money to fend for herself.

“The person you're blabbing about, you don't even know her well. You're not friends with her or anyone who knows her. So how did you jump to such conclusions?” I asked, bewildered.

“Well, did I lie? You know I'm saying the truth,” Ada replied, looking at her friends, who started laughing.

“Normally I would ignore you, but not in this case. This girl you're talking about works to fend for herself; that's why you don't always see her in school. She's a seamstress, and she's always busy with people's clothes. She's the one paying her bills in school and also supporting her parents to train her siblings,” I said to Adaora.

“Ermmm… Even though…” Ada began.

“Do you know how hard that girl works? Or how many times she cries herself to sleep? Or how she denies herself nice things because she'd rather save up the money to pay school bills?” I continued.

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At this point Ada and her friends were silent and looking ashamed of themselves. “It's funny how all you and Vera and Sonwa do is criticize others, but if you were in their shoes, you wouldn't even be able to cope. It's not even as if you people are perfect. You might have the money, clothes, and the rest, but you girls have poor characters,” I shouted.

By this time some other coursemates had overheard what was going on and saw this as an opportunity to return the insults to Ada and her friends, who began shedding tears just a few minutes into the show. So as the insults began pouring in from left and right, I walked away and realized how funny it was that they couldn't take what they dished out to others.

I also realized that they wouldn't be able to walk a mile in the shoes of those they loved to speak ill about. In fact, they would probably stumble, roll, fall, and break their legs if they tried it. I'd like to say they learned their lesson after that incident, but sadly enough, they went back to their bad character after some weeks.

Of course my coursemates and I weren't surprised; rather, everyone just started ignoring them as if they were invincible. Hoping for their sakes that maybe one day, something would happen to them to bring about the required change in their lives.