~AMERICAN BOBO~



"PART ONE"

It was a Sunday afternoon, the first week of January.

I felt completely pleased in myself, from where I sat in our local parish I could feel the stares on me. Of course they ought to stare, I would soon become an Americana.

Every one in our street already knew I was dating the most popular and wealthiest returnee in our area, my American bobo. They also knew we would be getting married soon. So long as I was concerned, life was just perfect and everyone else could scram for all I cared.

Just then I looked down from beneath my lashes and saw mama Karo as she walked past me, my gaze berated her in every way. The front pew I sat on allowed me a field show of everyone and everything.

Mama Karo was papa Karo’s wife, a popular carpenter in my street. From the round swell of her belly, I could tell she was pregnant again. That would be her seventh birth.

So this woman wan' born Jesus Christ before she go stop abi? I wondered grudgingly before nudging my friend Ene, who was by my left and the last person at the end of the pew,

‘Every time this woman carry belle.’ I mouthed quietly in vernacular which she ignored, undeterred, I continued, ‘Na wao! Na only to dey born na’im that her yeye husband Sabi.’ I finished, as usual, pocking my nose into other people’s business. Snorting, I feigned moving my body away from mama Ajura the tomatoes seller who was sitting by my right, even though I knew Ene was at the extreme and had no where further to adjust to yet I wanted her to get uncomfortable.

imagine the nerves of Ene, ignoring me like that, like I was a fool.

‘mama Ajura shift abeg . Every time you dey sweat. See as your sweat dey rub my body.’ I muttered rudely with Irritation gnashing on my inside, all fueled by Ene’s lack of response.

I knew Ene was just jealous because my American bobo would be traveling with me in a few days. Well, she could die for all I care.

‘this pikin,’ mama Ajura retorted, ‘you no get respect oh. Na me you dey talk to like that? ‘ She asked, perplexed.

Pouting my lips like a market woman aching for a quarrel I rolled my eyes and ordered. ‘Abegi shift!’ Making a disgusted face I continued, ‘anyways I go soon leave this country with my American bobo.’
chuckling proudly I lifted my left hand to display an engaged finger so I could cover my mouth and flaunt it on both their faces as well.

My mother should have just let me sleep, I fussed within me. She was always fond of waking me up early and forcing me to go to church every Sunday, even with her knowing I needed to look fresh for my American trip, though she wasn’t in support of my love story.

My bobo had already promised we would leave for the states and get married there immediately. I was nonchalantly amused as mama Ajura shook her head in pity followed by a solemn,

‘Na only God go help you,’

I slowly flapped my lashes as I dragged my eyes shut and gave a harsh throaty groan . I very well knew they were all envious of my recent achievement. 'No be me say make I fine nah.' I smirked.

As if the people around me weren’t enough pain, I saw Uduak walk past my pew, my eyes traced her as she went over to the pulpit and knelt down to join in the breaking of bread and the sacrament, a routine in my local parish.

‘humph!’ I scoffed. See them, all of them, nonsense pretenders, I thought. Everyone knew how she and John, the meson boy normally stood along the lonely part leading to the stream, now the promiscuous girl wants to break bread and eat communion. ‘Holy indeed’ I drawled noiselessly, not satisfied, I gave a long drag of hiss, not minding if I was heard.

My thoughts randomly visited every spot I’d seen her with John. ‘Fine bobo like am,’ I soliloquized, ‘ I no even know wetin him see for her body. This one wey resemble plier. That guy for be my bobo sef, na just say I no want am. ‘

Ene looked at me, with an expression that seemed like she thought I was insane. Her loss. Who she epp? I wondered. Soon I’d start sending down dollars. I certainly wouldn’t give her a kobo from it.

I heard the preacher say the final grace.

Finally.

Clutching on my purse I pushed past Ene. Such immature brat she was, ignoring me like that! Such disregard for all that I represent, the wife of an American boy, our friendship was certainly over.

The preacher called my attention as I got to the church exit. It was my chance to finally give him a taste of my anger. ‘Yes? ‘ Came my cut uncharacteristic reply.

As he approached I stood instinctively on alert, but he merely wanted to ask about my mum. She was worshipping in one of our neighbors church as an invitee. Still I told the preacher I had no idea where she was and left. He only stared after me, transfixed and amazed.

They want to get close now that I would soon become an ‘oyinbo woman ‘ This preacher that refused my entering the church last week because of an ordinary short gown. I hissed and went my way.


To Be continued....