“Happy Nice Family”, the security guard said as he smiled and waved us in. I replied with a burst of laughter.
I have never really seen the point of these endless salutations.
Growing up in the Yoruba culture, one learns there’s a greeting for everything: when you’re seating or standing, when you’re working or resting, when planning an event, when coming in and for if you’ve been home all day. The list goes on.
A couple of years back, my News Feed was overwhelmed by statuses that read, “Happy New Month”. I remember staring at them in bewilderment, wondering what was so special about transitioning from February to March. [Now that I’m actually in Nigeria, I have been made to understand that conquering a day here makes one a hero and that’s worth recognition.]
Sometime later, I came home on holiday and much to my amusement new greetings were in vogue, “Happy Sunday” and “Happy Weekend”. These are usually synonymous to “Anything for the boys?” when said by overeager police officers who are desperate for any small change to boost the chickenfeed that’s supposed to be their salaries.
Could “Happy Nice Family” be next?