I reluctantly took the phone from my teachers hand. Despite all my pleas not to call my mum, she clearly translated my words as gibberish and went to do so.

“Hello Mummy.”

“Hello Edima?”

“Yes Mummy.”

“Edima, what is it this time? Ehn… Nsutto mkpo? (what kind of thing is this?),” she said in her usual dramatic high-pitched tone. I could imagine her drawing attention to herself as she paced up and down in her shop, occasionally clapping the back of her palm on her hips.

“Mummy, it’s nothing… just malaria.”

“Atang ndiseme (you are saying nonsense). This is the third time you are fainting this month Edima. One… two… three ! And you say it is nothing ehn? Are you now a blood fountain? Is it only your blood that mosquitoes see to suck huh?”

“No, Mum… It…”

She cut me short and continued, “Aren’t you using the mosquito repellant I gave you? Don’t you sleep under net?” She paused, long enough for me to breathe. “This girl, you will not kill me. You must stay in that boarding house, you want to come and finish all my food.”

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https://www.thezenpens.com/2019/06/05/i-know-ana/