Scientists are out here wasting money studying black holes and quantum physics when the greatest mystery of the universe is sitting right inside a small shop with a buzzing Singer sewing machine and a generator leaking smoke.

Last month—specifically, three weeks before an owambe party—I took material to my tailor, Oga Sunday. I didn't just bring any material; I brought fabric that could command respect. I gave him the exact style, took my measurements, and even paid a deposit that could buy a small plot of land in a developing area.

Oga Sunday looked me dead in the eye, adjusted his reading glasses, and swore with his entire generation:

"My brother, no shaking at all. Come and carry your dress on Thursday morning by 10:00 AM sharp. God forbid bad thing!"

Foolish me? I trusted him. I even went to buy matching shoes and cap to match the spiritual level of the outfit.

Thursday morning, 9:45 AM, I entered his shop with high hopes. Oga Sunday was nowhere to be found. Only his apprentice, a young boy whose primary duty on earth is to press phone and inhale generator fumes, was present.

Me: "Oga apprentice, where is my cloth?"

Apprentice (without looking up from TikTok): "Oga went to market to buy thread."

Me: "Thread? For a finished cloth?"

Apprentice: "He is adding the final touches, sir."

To cut a long, painful story short, Oga Sunday didn’t show up until 1:30 PM. And when he finally opened his Ghana-must-go bag, what did I see? The material was still lying there looking at me like an unpainted house. He hadn't even cut the neck hole!

When I started hyperventilating, Oga Sunday just smiled calmly—that legendary, veteran smile of a man who has cheated death and customer anger a million times—and said:

"Ah, chairman, calm down na! Is it not just to gum the collar? Come back by 4:00 PM. I swear, by the time you wear it tomorrow, people will think you imported it from Milan."

My people, tomorrow? The party was starting in two hours! That was the exact day I learned that in a tailor’s dictionary, "tomorrow" is not a day of the week; it is a spiritual placeholder that means "Whenever the Holy Spirit touches my hands to handle scissors."

Let me see your face: Have you ever had a tailor mess up your owambe weekend plan, or am I the only victim of this national association? Drop your worst tailor experiences in the comments so I won't cry alone! 👇😂