OFU (ONE)
Growing up was easy, easier than cutting butter with a knife. My parents had money; the kind that attracted envy and hatred from the common man. The kind that made my teachers say I was spoilt, and sneer when I held a broom or offered to help them carry books. I could see it in the looks the maids gave me when I teased them or refused to do my homework. The way they shrugged their shoulders when I broke a glass cup or attempted to clamber over the giant fence. I was untouchable and Ma reinforced that fact. She did it when she screamed at the maids because my food wasn’t ready, my clothes were unironed and for many a flimsy reason. The kids at school hated me too; I had too much shiny stuff I was not ready to share. Sharing was something I hated, having grown up as the only child amid many adults. My toys were numerous, and there was always the opportunity to ask for more. There was the shiny puzzle with glitter sent from an uncle in Japan, dolls clad in shimmery gowns from London and the beautiful cellphone that played songs from Ma. I also held on to a play oven Ma’s friend gave me, too many brown teddies and more money than was necessary. That made the other children angry, and my growing belly amid their flat ones made things worse. I stuck out at the school Pa placed me in to appreciate what I had, despite Ma’s screaming and pleas. He insisted that it was the only way to teach me; to make me strong. It didn’t help that I came home in tears from the teasing and pulling of my hair. My beautiful, long relaxed hair. It was woven in cornrows by Ma; she didn’t let anyone interfere with her handiwork. She was a beautician before she became an entrepreneur, and she liked to show off her skills in the braids on my head, her beautiful olive skin and her beautiful, long, manicured nails. I cried at school, but never at home. Our home was a place of comfort; away from the teasing and the teacher’s cane. Away from the kids who stole my notes and wrote insults on the back of my white school uniform. Ma would tell the maids to get me anything I wanted, and Pa would scowl. He would say that she was spoiling me. He insisted on the school she felt was too local for me. He needed me to attend that school so that the locals would see how humble he was. Not like the proud, big men who tried to contest for the post of local government chairman. His daughter went to the same school as their children which would make them see him as different. The right candidate.
One day when I came back from school, I heard them argue.
“Why are you so selfish?” she asked.
“I’m doing this for her good.”
“No, you are doing this so you can achieve your political ambition.”
“Your high airs won’t take you and your daughter far.”
“At least we have high airs. You are a selfish excuse of a man.”
I heard something break and went into my room for some chocolate. My growing stomach was an indicator to stop eating snacks, but I always found a way to get chocolate. It was beautiful to look at, like my skin. I ate three bars and reserved the rest for later, then muttered a prayer. The grown-ups would settle their rift in time and things would go back to normal. I was wrong because voices were raised and tempers boiled until the unexpected happened. Ma fell ill.
ABUO (TWO)
Ma’s illness was sudden. She couldn’t eat much, and she threw up what she ate. She screamed at the maids to change the air fresheners in the house, and for some strange reason, she had developed a new appetite for burnt toast. She lay propped in bed with pillows for most of the time and sometimes I caught her wiping a tear with her handkerchief. I would ask her if all was well, and she would say she was fine. Pa was travelling most of the time, but when he came around he brought me biscuits. Shortbread, McVites Digestive and Yale’s. Then there was the chocolate too; regular chocolate, dark chocolate and white chocolate. I looked forward to Pa’s trips for the biscuits and the fact that he was not always around to scold me for breaking Ma’s chinaware or not doing well at school. Ma cried more, and with each episode, I noticed that her thin frame was evolving into a more robust figure. Her belly was swollen too, and the maids paid more attention to her this time. On some days she asked for spaghetti, and when it was served she wanted something Chinese. She was angry most of the time and I didn’t understand why. She only waited till Pa came back for the last time, before breaking the news to my pyjama-clad, wide-eyed self. I was getting a baby brother, soon. I was excited and my questions were numerous; she answered some with her raspy voice. No, he wouldn’t be coming with me to school. Yes, he was in her stomach. Pa answered the rest of my questions patiently and I smiled with the reassurance. Ma was going to be just fine. Ma smiled back at me and she told the maids to put me to bed. Smiles were for a moment and privacy allowed one to vent. My parents still had their problems despite Ma’s pregnancy. The night time was the time for children to sleep, so they sent me to bed and let loose the volcanoes that were their tongues.
“Don’t touch me, you he-goat.”
“I am your husband, it’s my right.”
“I won’t allow you to ruin my life now that I am pregnant.”
“You are being dramatic. How could I ruin your life?”
“You could pass on those crabs from one of your dirty mistresses to me again.”
“I have no mistress. You are being dramatic.”
“Get out.”
The door slammed with so much force that I felt it. Pa probably went to the guestroom then went back to their shared bedroom for I heard the patter of his large feet later that night.
ATO (THREE)
They thought I was asleep, so this time there was no faking of emotions. They hurled words they taught me never to use at each other and I heard Ma cry. There was too much tension in the atmosphere, and the maids scurried to bed. They knew the next morning there would be hell to pay, so why not have a good night’s rest? Pa and Ma argued through the night, and I didn’t sleep. I lay in bed counting from one to a hundred for as many times as I remembered. Then I said a prayer, and then I saw the snake. The snake was beautiful; with green and silver adorning most of its hide. It was crawling over me; a heavy reptile. It had come into the house through the balcony, then it moved to the living room, on to the pantry and into the bedrooms. It swallowed the maids, then Pa and Ma. It was coming for me, but I found my toy duck and hit it with it. It ran away and I screamed. I woke up to screaming, too. I ran in the direction of the maids where the screaming came from and saw Ma lying on the floor. I saw the blood. It was all over her pink nightgown and even on the Italian rug, she bought on one of her trips abroad. Pa held her in his arms and she bit him. She screamed at him, asking him to get out but he held on to her tighter. “There was no time to waste,” Pa said and we got her into the car on the way to the hospital. Pa’s voice quivered and he snapped at us. We were being too slow, or not handling Ma with care or doing something wrong. Ma, on the other hand, was cursing bitterly. She held on to her belly and screamed when we got to the hospital. The doctor was an older man, balding and probably in his fifties. He sent us out. “Relatives usually crowd the hospitals, and this is to the detriment of patients,” he explained. Pa was furious, but there was nothing he could do. He snapped at the maids and glared at the doctor before leading us all to the car for his orders. He asked the maids to take me home, and give the driver food to bring for Ma. I stood still as a rock, stubborn. I would not go unless Ma spoke to me. Maybe that was a sign. Pa spoke to the elderly doctor, who reassured me that Ma was fine. I had school the next day. Good children listen to their parents. He went on and on until I agreed to go home. I went home because the doctor said Ma would be fine, and also because I knew she would be mad over that rug. It was her favourite rug, and seeing it in that state would make her cry. I took a bucket of water, put soap and a sponge in it and tried to clean the rug. When the smell of damp rustiness hit me, I felt a wave of nausea. Vomit hit my blue nightgown, the rug and the bucket. The maids cleaned me up, and their eyes showed anger. Things were already as bad as they could get, and this spoiled girl wanted to ruin their boss’s favourite rug. They cleaned the rug and set to work with a blow dryer. However, the damage was already done. Right by the side of Ma’s favourite rug, there was a crimson patch; a visible eyesore.
ANO (FOUR)
I didn’t want to go to school the next day, I wanted to go see Ma. Pa’s instructions were to the contrary. I was to be dressed for school and that was final. Any other action would make the maids; Cordelia and Constance lose their jobs. Cordelia was kind and extra gentle with me that morning, and even the grim-faced Constance put an extra pack of biscuits in my box for school that morning. It felt awkward, but maybe Pa had warned them about their incompetence. Later that day, I began to have a sense that something wasn’t right. I can remember that it was sunny that morning, but I felt chills in my body. At the assembly, in class and even after the break. The teacher didn’t scold me even when I failed three math questions in a row. That was unusual, like finding a chocolate bar in a library. Something didn’t feel right and I intended to find out after school’s closing. I did because Pastor Matthew was home with Pa and they said they wanted to tell me something. Ma and my little brother were in heaven and we wouldn’t see them until we went there. Would we go soon? He wasn’t sure. Was there enough food, drink and clothes for Ma? Yes, there were. Pa answered my questions patiently, although his eyes seemed to redden with each answer. Pastor Matthew held his shoulder and reassured him that we would all be fine. Big Mummy was coming to see us, and in a year or two, all this would be over. I was already growing, and the Lord would send him a comforter. Pa looked like he was trying to cry, then he looked at me. We would never be alright after that, for the news of Ma’s death had gone viral. I never knew how serious things were until I heard the whispers from our nosy neighbours.
“Men!!! All they can do is bring trouble to a woman’s life.”
“That woman was so good, see how she let her useless husband kill her.”
“If only she had left him, she would still be alive today.”
“Maybe he even used her for money rituals.”
“Did you hear she was pregnant?”
“I heard o. A beautiful woman like that. It’s sad.”
I knew where the voices were coming from and felt the urge to give the persons hard knocks on their heads. I shook my head at the thought. Pa would not like that. It was also a sin to disrespect elders, so I retreated to my room. I hated my cowardice, it reminded me of a chased rat. So I sneaked to the kitchen to carry an extra plate of rice. I carried the booty to my room and smiled at the carefully concealed pieces of fried chicken. I prayed that this time, my belly wouldn’t rise again. Like grains of rice boiling in a pot of water. Then Ma came to mind, and my sobbing reminded me that I had not cried for some time.
ISE (FIVE)
Big Mummy came with food and cake, and reddish eyes too. Everyone’s eyes were red these days, especially Pa’s. His mouth smelled like the methylated spirit the doctor dabbed on my arm before giving me an injection, and these days his feet were unsteady. He almost fell one day, but Constance caught him before he kissed the ground. On other days, I saw him sneaking out of her room. Then there was trouble looming when Ma’s people came, and Pa was led away in cuffs. I remember seeing Ma’s brothers, all seven of them.
They would have brought canes to flog Pa, they said. How possible was it that their sister ceased communication with her family after her marriage and a few years later turned up dead? It must be murder, for her wealth or money rituals, they said.
Pa’s eyes were red as he begged. He didn’t kill her. He loved his wife. Ma’s brothers, unmoved ordered that Pa be locked up. An autopsy would be done, but for that period he was the suspect. I was assigned the role of calling family members, the closest being Big Mummy. She was reliable, and she came right on time. She called the many lawyers she knew, and the legal proceedings started. It was hard; Pa being in prison and struggling to get out, Ma’s relatives hurling threats, the news of some people robbing Ma’s shop. I cried on some days and prayed on others. Big Mummy was always there, preparing food to take to Pa. Calling someone influential. Sending me on errands. She was the uniting force that gave us all strength. Big Mummy was Pa’s elder sister and she was as tough as a lion, but Ma’s people were stronger and so, they won the legal battle. They said Pa killed Ma, maybe by beating her to death or using her for money rituals. Things went downhill from there. Pa’s money was used to free him from prison, and Ma’s shop was closed. Pa lost his job and political career because of the news that he killed his wife, and there was little Big Mummy could do. She had her five kids to raise and a husband to cater to; so Pa decided to go back to his village for a fresh start. The workers and driver had to go as Pa couldn’t afford their salaries. Cordelia and Constance left, albeit with tears. Pa sold everything he owned and we were set to go. I didn’t have any friends at school to bid goodbye, but the teacher hugged me and pressed some money into my hand. I felt lost and unsure what a new school and place would hold for me, but I held on to the stories Pa told me. There would be trees everywhere, with fresh mangoes and udala to eat; cool breeze and plenty of bushmeat. I loved bush meat, Big Mummy had brought it to the house and used it to make a delicious soup. This time my questions were numerous, but Pa answered them all with a definite tone to his voice. Would there be jam, chocolate and biscuits? There would be better things. Would my school have a foreign headmistress? Maybe not. Pa was getting tired of my questions, but his eyes were whiter and his feet were steady. Maybe this place would do us some good. The lorry ride made me hopeful, as Pa gave me some of the bread he bought and smiled. There was no place like home. Pa told me of my uncles and aunties I was set to meet; their escapades as children in the village before he left for the city. The days they spent fishing in the river. How his brother challenged a wrestler after drinking too much palm wine. The story of the cousin that stole meat from boiling pots of soup. The stories made me laugh, and I listened until nightfall. I must have slept off because all I could remember was Pa’s nudge indicating that we were home.
ISII (SIX)
Uno, the noun for home. It seemed musical in my ears when Pa pronounced the word. When I attempted to, it came out like sour okro, unpleasant to hear of and to taste. I didn’t have the sweetness of Pa’s accent, and my high voice made my words sound like those of an electric toy. My new uncles and aunties whom I had never met before, suffocated me with hugs and feigned anger when I couldn’t greet them in the local language. They teased me a lot and gave me a lot of gifts. A naira note here and there. A bracelet. Coconut candy. A new wrapper. A packet of biscuits. I was dear to them. It wasn’t my fault that I couldn’t speak my language because my mother washed her hands in oil and fed me pure butter. Pa explained what it meant; Ma was rich before she went to heaven and she spoiled me. Many young children my age didn’t have the toys I did. They didn’t eat when they liked and their parents had no money. It made sense to me now, and it felt awkward. I felt relieved when Pa said he would take me to the headmaster. At least I would be among people my age. I prayed this time that there would be no bullies. The principal was a huge man with a thin wife and seven young children to feed. He rubbed his hands at the prospect of taking in an additional pupil and he told me to stretch my hands over my head. I completed the stretching task successfully, and for the first time in a long time, I saw Pa smile. He looked young again, and even happier when told that I would be promoted to a higher class because of my reading skills. Finally, he was back home. His daughter was settled in school and he could win cases for his people. It seemed easy, but life was hard. It was difficult because of the whispers that the villagers shared.
“I heard he killed his wife in the city.”
“Who even needs the government to settle a case?”
“Nobody my brother. Matters are better settled at the shrine.”
“They are resolved quickly that way.”
“Nobody has time for those thieves called lawyers.”
Pa knew already of the gossip and misconceptions of his abilities as a lawyer. He tried to convince the villagers that he could take up their cases but it was hard. Hard as drawing water out of a rock.
ASAA (SEVEN)
Life was hard for everyone, but it was even harder for Pa. He was struggling to regain his reputation and get clients, but the only cases that presented themselves were cases of goat and fowl theft. Land disputes were very rare in the community because everyone knew who owned each plot of land. If there was a disagreement, the gods were invoked and the guilty party involved usually died within days. Jam disappeared from our meals, and so did biscuits. We were becoming poor, despite Pa’s efforts and the gifts from his relatives. Even bread became a luxury. It was replaced by oka and ube; which brought a sweet and sour taste to my mouth. We had to fetch water and for the first week, my arms felt as if they were dead. I soon adjusted to my schedule; wake up before the cock’s crow, steal some of Mr Ukpe’s mangoes and head off to the stream before preparing for school. I soon had accomplices who, later, became my friends. Ngozi helped distract Mr Ukpe with numerous greetings and Ogechukwu climbed the mango tree while I made away with the large, delicious mangoes. It was too good to be true, the life I was living as a mango thief. In villages, news of any child’s misconduct is relayed as soon as possible to their parents. I was unaware of that fact; Mr Ukpe had a conversation with Pa and it was not good. Pa summoned me the day after and I shuddered as the whip landed on my back. I hated him for a while, but I understood. He had a reputation to protect, after all that happened. Later that evening, he brought me isege soup laden with bushmeat; Pa never apologized except in actions. I forgave him after that and focused on beating Ikechukwu at school. Not with my hands and fingers, but with pen and paper. After all, I heard Pa say some girls do better than some boys. Ikechukwu’s pride was getting out of hand. Something urgent had to be done and fast. I busied myself with reading after school with the daylight. At night, I used an oil lamp till morning. It was necessary to deflate Ikechukwu’s pride. What else would make a headmaster’s son call a lawyer’s daughter a bag of rice? Nothing, but stupid worthless pride. When I thought of that day when Ikechukwu fed me that insult, I resisted the urge to bounce into the headmaster’s house and give his son well deserved slaps. It makes no sense how Ikechukwu’s insults penetrated my soul, but that day was different. I sat down during the break, rounding up with my homework. Then I saw him, the devil. Shaking his head and rolling his big eyes. Eyes like freshly boiled eggs.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Who is looking at you? Bag of rice.”
“You are a fool.”
“Proud goat, you can’t come and play with us during the break.”
“If you had the sense, you would know that I am doing my assignment.”
“After everything, you will still come second.”
“Get out, ewu.”
After the exchange, I resisted the urge to burst into tears. I was not going to let this boy win. I would destroy his plans to top the class this time. Nobody made fun of me or my big body and got away with it. I would have my revenge and serve it hot like fresh pepper soup.
ASATO (EIGHT)
Ikechukwu was two inches taller than me and he was a boy. Those were the two credentials that he thought qualified him for the first position in the class. That and the fact that he was the headmaster’s son. I was the lawyer’s daughter who read better than any child could read in the community. However, Ikechukwu’s skill in math made him come in the first position in the first term. I was fine with the results, as I had never done so well in my previous school. I was unsettled by my last altercation with Ikechukwu but I didn’t see myself making the effort to beat him weeks after. Until Ikechukwu taunted me. The second time, he placed his fingers over his lower eyelids, and stretched them out in a ntooo, then shook his khaki-clad behind in my face. I came back home, crying to Pa and watched him roar in laughter. He even joked about a possible marriage in the future to Ikechukwu and stopped laughing when I fumed. He offered to teach me math and, although a little angry, I offered to learn. Ikechukwu was a demon that needed to accept defeat, and I was ready to fight completely to the finish. My friends encouraged me; Ngozi advised me not to drink the water that came out of a cracked open coconut. It made children duller. I knew it was a lie, but I didn’t laugh so that she wouldn’t feel bad. Ogechukwu promised to bring me garri and aku for lunchtimes. Ogechukwu kept to her promise, and on some days she outdid herself. She brought coconut, bread and biscuits. I was happy, and I studied even harder. My math improved so greatly that our Math teacher then, Mr Lazarus promised me some money if I could get high grades at the end of the term. He folded some notes into my palm when I came first at the end of the second term, and for once Ikechukwu was lost for words. I remember the look on his face, it resembled that of a toddler whose biscuits had been snatched from his or her hands. I almost pitied him, and I made sure not to laugh at him. The news travelled far and wide in the village that the fat lawyer’s daughter had beaten the headmaster’s son in class. It brought more prestige to Pa, and he laughed when he told the story. I found out that I enjoyed reading, so I read my teachers’ books. I borrowed some from the bookseller, too. I read more books in Pa’s library and then asked him about his work. He had begun to get clients from the neighbouring village and had become a renowned lawyer of some sort. Big Mummy called, and when she hinted on coming back to the city, he shook his head. Ma’s family had been pacified, but they demanded two cows and seven white goats. There had to be some purification done in the form of ceremonies after Ma’s passing or there would be consequences. Every action had consequences. The consequences as spelt by Ma’s family were that there would be no burial of Ma, and there was impending death of Pa’s family members. Ma’s family didn’t come to see me, because they were angry at Pa. The thought of it brought tears to my eyes, and Pa said I resembled a frog when I cried. He mimicked me as he said it, insisting that my large head, stomach and eyes resembled that of a frog. That my voice reminded him of frogs singing in the ponds when it rained. I sulked for a day, but when he brought me biscuits my anger left. He held me by my shoulders and reassured me.
“Pa, why won’t my uncles and aunties from Ma’s side come to see me?”
“I don’t know, but they might come.”
“How are we going to get the cows and goats?”
“We will get them.”
“Do I talk like a frog?”
“No my dear. I was just playing.”
“You will be fine.”
It felt good, but there was a nagging feeling of fear. If the purification rites were not done in two weeks, there would be consequences.
ITENENI (NINE)
The first consequence came in the form of Constance. I was getting ready to fetch water from the stream when she arrived with a huge belly, accompanied by some hefty men clad in npe. They were her uncles, she said. They stood in place for her father who unfortunately had passed on. They demanded to see Pa, but I lied that he was not in. I lied because I didn’t like Constance and I wasn’t fond of the men. One look at the talisman in the heftiest one’s hand showed me that he came with ogwu, so my voice reduced to a whisper and I remembered that I might be able to find Pa. I went in to call Pa, who came out and asked that I bring a bench for his visitors. I brought them cold water too, not because I liked them, but for ease of eavesdropping. The verdict was given; Constance was pregnant and Pa had to marry her. She was to move in with us immediately, while they got the list of materials needed for the marriage ceremony ready. Pa shook his head, and then he said he agreed, but he had to perform some rites with Ma’s family. There was no problem, they said and they went on their way leaving Constance at our mercy. Pa grew closer to Constance, and the villagers began to whisper again.
“Children of nowadays!!! They have no shame.”
“What kind of girl stays with a man who has not paid her bride price?”
“A shameless one, my sister.”
“I hear she was the maid of the first wife. The one who died.”
“My dear, that one was killed. This maid is pregnant.”
“What a strange world we live in.”
“It is strange, my sister. Let me go and cook for my husband.”
This time, these whispers had a good feel. Like a cotton bud or feather in my ear. I wanted the gossip to pierce Constance like a needle. I wanted her to feel pain because, for the first months, I hated her so much. How could she dare to replace Ma so soon after her death? Then I hated Pa for getting her pregnant and making her live with us. I was angry at everything, and everyone and I didn’t realize how angry I was. The anger continued to burn inside of me, like firewood. There was no outlet, and on some days I snapped. My friends and classmates didn’t know how I felt and I ran to the toilet when I felt the need to shed some tears. My big release came in the day Constance reprimanded me for not fetching water and I threw the water pot at her. She fell, and the poor pot cracked into tiny pieces. I cried when I saw blood for the second time because I remembered Ma. I screamed for Pa and held on to Constance as blood trickled down her thin legs. I saw Pa, then I couldn’t see. I heard voices around me.
“Bring water fast.”
“Is she ok?”
“Someone get a car.”
“We need to go to the hospital.”
“Put a spoon in her mouth.”
“I don’t think that is right.”
“Poor child, her mother hasn’t even been buried yet.”
I felt wetness surround me, but the dryness in my throat was something I had never felt before. It was still dark, and I didn’t know where I was at that moment.
IRI (TEN)
I blanked out and saw darkness cover me. Ma was holding me and telling me to let go of her. I told her exactly how I felt. I told her of Constance and her annoying little smirk, the days she spent chatting with Pa and making him ignore me. The whispers I heard about Pa killing his wife so he could marry another in the village square. The rites he was supposed to do with her people that he left undone. Ma said she understood, but she wanted me to let go. When Ma was with us, it was impossible to argue with her. This dream or trance was different. She was calmer, clad in a white gown and I screamed.
“Why did you leave us?”
“I didn’t want to, but it happened.”
“Why do I have to be nice to aunty Constance?”
“There are a lot of things you do not understand, child.”
“Explain to me. All she does is eat and make Pa not talk to me.”
“She is carrying your brother. Do not be angry at Constance, your father or anyone.”
“I will try, but please come back.”
“I have to go.”
I watched her leave and wept with each memory that came. I came to a start and felt wetness all over my body. Pa, Constance and the headmaster peered over me with worry. I was fine, I told them. Was Constance alright? She was fine. I had to talk to Pa, and I did. I begged him to let me pick aku with the girls to sell after school so we could make enough money for Ma’s rites. Then he could marry Constance. I would treat her with love and respect. Pa’s eyes went red and he told me that he had been saving. He was ready to do the right thing. Ma’s people would be appeased and we would be able to start afresh. The burial would be grand and we would wear white. Big Mummy came to check up on me and we talked for hours. About Pa’s possible reinstatement at his place of work and the possibility of going back to the city. I shook my head and told her the truth. Jam, chocolate and biscuits were good, but I loved oka and ube. If we were to go back, I would come during holidays to see my friends and be addressed as the girl whose Ma washed hands in oil and fed her butter. Eating butter is good but a visit to uno was more than special. So I held Pa, Constance and Big Mummy in one big hug, and for the first time in months, I felt better.