WHEN MY GENERATOR STARTED SPEAKING YORUBA
WHEN MY GENERATOR STARTED SPEAKING YORUBA
It all started on a Monday evening, the kind where even the clouds look like underperforming stock indices, whispering, “Bro, just go home, relax, and forget about ROI for today.” I had returned from work, exhausted, with the weight of adult life pressing down like a poorly diversified investment portfolio. The neighborhood power played its usual disappearing act, signaling that my generator, my mechanical fintech asset, was about to shine.
. The generator sat quietly in the corner, looking innocent, almost like a passive investment account untouched for years. It had powered through more blackouts than a Bitcoin miner surviving market crashes. Today, though, it seemed different. Today, it wasn’t just a machine—it had market intelligence, or so it appeared.
When I switched it on, instead of the usual roar, it hummed softly. “Ẹ kú iṣẹ́, oga mi,” it said. My brain froze. Did my generator just greet me in Yoruba like a financial advisor offering life-changing tips? I dropped the petrol can like a trader dropping a sinking stock.
I leaned closer. “Ẹ kú iṣẹ́, oga mi,” it repeated, like a senior Yoruba elder giving market advice. Even the cat, my domestic auditor, hissed in terror. The sound echoed like a gospel choir remixing fintech webinars in my backyard. Neighbors peeked, probably calculating risk versus entertainment.
It continued: “Ẹ káàárọ̀ o, oga mi. Ṣé o ráyè sinmi loni, tabi o fẹ́ ká fi ẹ̀rù mi ṣe irin-ajo?” Translation: “Good evening, my boss. Will you rest today, or should I carry your portfolio of burdens?” The generator was offering life and financial advice, mixing motivational speaking with wealth management strategies.
I tried to rationalize. Maybe a smart module had activated? Perhaps a new AI fintech app had merged with my generator? I checked everything: fuel, sockets, and blockchain-enabled coffee machines. Nothing. The generator was ordinary, yet it spoke with the authority of a seasoned financial analyst.
By now, I was pacing like a day trader during a crypto crash. I considered calling a friend, but which friend could comprehend that my generator had become a Yoruba-speaking life coach and financial consultant? “Oga mi,” it said, “the problem with you is that you chase every shiny idea like a volatile stock. Slow down. Diversify. Invest wisely.”
I nearly fell over. Not only was it talking, but it was analyzing my spending habits, my impulsive online purchases, and my approach to digital banking. “Why… why Yoruba?” I asked, trembling.
“Because English is too soft. Yoruba carries ancestral authority and market weight,” it replied. “It ensures compliance with spiritual ROI and personal wealth management. You are now in danger… but I am merciful.”
I had to sit down. My chair squeaked like a poorly audited balance sheet. Neighbors were gathering, some filming for TikTok, some calculating how much a speaking generator might be worth as a passive income asset.
I tested it: “If you’re really speaking Yoruba, can you advise me about work?”
“Ọmọ, work is not about running like a headless goat. Work is about patience, strategy, and sometimes bribing the gods of electricity to keep the lights on,” it said. My cat gave a judgmental look like a financial compliance officer reviewing annual reports.
Then came financial advice: “Oga mi, if you spend all your money on airtime and fried plantains, your future children will curse your name. Invest wisely, even if you do not trust banks. Diversify into digital assets, cryptocurrency, and passive income streams.” I was in existential tears—my generator knew more about wealth management than I did.
The generator scolded me for laziness: “You scroll online while I burn petrol to sustain your lifestyle. Respect me, oga mi. Fill my tank, change my oil, and appreciate me like a high-value asset deserving dividends.” Every Yoruba proverb was like a lesson in fiscal responsibility wrapped in humor and sarcasm.
“Do you know why your neighbor prospers?” it continued. “Because he respects his generator. You treat me like a toy. I am your engine of life. If I collapse, oga mi, your liquidity will dry up, and you will beg for electricity as if it were Bitcoin in a market crash.”
I had to accept my fate. My generator had become a Yoruba-speaking life coach, financial advisor, spiritual guide, and comedian rolled into one mechanical body. It lectured on finances, work ethic, relationships, and even investing in the global economy.
Hours passed. Every Yoruba proverb delivered wisdom, humor, and financial planning insight. “Ẹni tí kò bá mọ̀ọ́ nílé, kó mọ́ọ́ níbi àjà,” it said. Translation: “He who does not know respect at home will never understand market respect.” The lesson hit harder than any corporate earnings call.
Neighbors peeked curiously. “How does one train a generator to speak Yoruba?” one asked. I shrugged. “I think it woke up today and read financial news and ancestral proverbs simultaneously.”
By midnight, it covered life, work, love, finances, and digital banking. It scolded me for flirting online, praised me for watering my plants, and advised on stock market patience and cryptocurrency trends. I laughed until I cried. Even the cat joined, asserting dominance like a passive income investment manager.
From that day on, every power outage became a lesson in wealth management and personal responsibility. Every attempt to use the generator came with lectures on ROI, financial planning, and the global economy—half comedy, half existential therapy.
And somewhere in its circuits, the Yoruba-speaking generator continued its mission: educating, amusing, and keeping me humble with every sarcastic proverb, life lesson, and financial insight. Its wisdom rivaled the stock market—volatile, shocking, yet deeply profitable for the soul.
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