₦airaland Forum

Mama T came to visit the weekend after the Governor was assassinated, dressed in a bright pink lace that has tiny stones scattered all over it, it was sewn into a skirt and a blouse, she is a galaxy when she steps out into the sun, her hair fell to her waist, it is a high quality human hair that feels like silk when touched, Mama T’s rich dark skin complemented the dress

Febi was the one who opened the door, she had sat grudgingly on the stool in the kitchen as her mother cooked, her mother would not let her touch the pots not for the fear of Febi getting burnt but because she would not want her to waste her pot of stew when an important visitor is coming to their humble home today. Going to open the door was like being free from a prison. Febi ducked into their room as soon as she opened the door for Mama T. As much as Febi admires Mama T, so does she fear her. Mama T is the reality of all the glamour she sees in the Yoruba movies she steals out of bed to watch.

Her mother called and she smiled shyly when her eyes met with Mama T’s.

The bowl of steaming hot vegetable was gingerly carried into the sparse sitting room by Febi. Mama T readjusted herself on the settee, she was used to softer and more comfortable seats but her friend is her friend, she screwed her nose as Febi placed the soup on the table, Mama T stared disapprovingly at the chipped edges of the table. She still can not fathom why her friend would continue to deal with herself, she had vowed never to have anything to do with her again but what is there to do when your friend calls in the middle of the night crying and sounding really dejected ” I didn’t send her to open leg for a married man, silly miss perfect” Mama T cursed under her breath
She smiled wistfully as she remembered how her friend would keep malice with her for days because she went out with a boy she is not supposed to go out with and worse still she slept with him, she would nag and condemn her when she gets pregnant and abort it before it starts showing, her dear friend called her vile and a murderer for it, her sweet little friend eventually got entangled in a paternity mess, how sweet it was to see her crying every time Mr Olarinde hangs up on her the moment he hears her voice. She imagined him angrily jamming back the receiver . Righteousness has rewarded her friend well… With a bastard. She spits inwardly and gave Febi a shark like smile.

Febi’s mother entered the room carrying the smell of curry, thyme and nutmeg with her
” you smell like fresh meat about to be prepared” Mama T commented

Febi’s mother smiled thinly and asked when “he” would be coming
” soon Bisola, you should go and freshen up, you need not tell him how good your cooking skills are with this exotic smell oozing from you” Mama T clicked her tongue and looked at Febi from the corners of her eyes, she seemed to be asking her friend “does she know”. Febi’s mother nodded in the negative and stood up to go and have her bath

There was a knock on the door the moment Febi’s mother stepped out of the bathroom, she stared wide-eyed at her friend and stumbled into the bedroom, Febi opened the door and saw a giant of a man towering above her, he looked down on her in a condescending manner and sneered, Febi swallowed and stood still

” Didn’t your mother teach you well, invite him in if you can’t greet him” Mama T barked, she looked Febi up and down and hissed. The giant entered the sitting room and greeted Mama T with a smile, he took a seat beside Mama T after complaining about how the foams on the other seats would ruin his expensive suit

Febi’s mother breezed out of the bedroom and smiled warmly at the Giant, he smiled back exposing kolanut stained teeth, Febi noticed the tribal marks on his face and looked away, vertical lines that curved at the cheekbones is incised from the side of his face right into his mouth. He look no better than an ape and raises up his nose every time like someone who just perceived a dead rat rotting away.

Febi was sent into the room with a look from her mother, she could hear the Giant smacking his mouth minutes later and burping loudly while her mother giggles softly and Mama T chats loudly talking about how worse the economy has gotten, the climate change and other things that is stupid and equally useless to her and everyone around her. She often thinks silence brews animosity, she doesn’t want the atmosphere to be too tense, in fact she wouldn’t want it to be tense at all, silence would make her friend think deep and change her mind, she wouldn’t want that. She wouldn’t want her friend to change her mind about marrying Alhaji Goro.

They would make the perfect beauty and the beast, her so-called educated well-mannered friend will never have the price charming she thought she would have and almost had with Olarinde. It is better they both have miserable life, she wouldn’t be the only one to tell tales of her encounters with the wives of the Honourables and ministers she follows up and down, her friend too will never have peace with Alhaji Goro’s mad wives.

* * *
Febi was called into the room, Alhaji Goro plucks out meat from his teeth with a thread he appears to have cut from his expensive suit, his open belly reminds Febi of Aunty Falila’s own when she was pregnant, Alhaji Goro’s own is a little bit bigger than her aunty’s own.

” Febi, how would you like to have a new daddy?” her mother opened her teeth, Febi shook her head and looked at Alhaji Goro, Mama T and then her mother.

” No”
” what is wrong with this one? You are an ogbanje abi? I knew it you don’t want your mother to marry and have another child, ekwensu you are an evil thing” Mama T spits

” Don’t talk to my daughter like that ” Febi’s mother warned sternly, Alhaji Goro belched loudly and continued to remove the meats hidden between his ugly teeth

Febi shook her head and began to cry, her mother drew her close and rocked her from side to side

” very soon you will do junior WAEC, this one you want to continue sucking your mother’s breast ehehehehe” Mama T cackled
” How can she suck breast when I am here now, eh?” Alhaji Goro beamed his kolanut stained teeth on Febi and Febi screamed, Mama T and Alhaji Goro burst into laugher at the same time while her mother continued to soothe her
” it’s okay, stop crying or I will spank you, oya sorry, it’s okay you hear?” her mother continues to pat her
Febi shivered and gripped her mother tightly.

It is not what it is.


© KANZAHSAYS.COM 2017 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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“Students should go home now, go home now” The head boy jingles the big bell he was holding and bellows from time to time, children in kindergarten and nursery classes peeped through the window and stared as the headboy made his announcement in the senior students block. It was just 12pm

The proprietor of the school, a London trained man in his fifties came home years ago after spending the better part of his life in London, he had complained bitterly about the deplorable state of the government-owned schools and the inability of a Grade one student to spell her name
“This is demoralizing innit!” he had rambled on and on in front of people who barely understand English not to talk of the Queens English he has adopted. Then he swore to start a school, a good school, standard one, the kind of school that could compete with children that schooled in London. His school became one of the most reputable schools around until greed chewed deep into his pocket, enough wasn’t enough and he increased the school fees every term. Parents began to withdraw their kids and the ones who stayed were told the school standard is difficult to maintain in present Nigeria economy.
When the children in every class became a handful, he merged those in Primary 6 into one, same with other classes and began to repaint and renovate the other block, the next day he put up a signboard outside advertising his “International secondary school that teaches with the British curriculum”. And he has caught the Nigerian bug as he terms it so the reverence for quantity over quality.
A block belongs to the kindergarten and primary class pupils. The second block is for the seniors in secondary school.

The headboy marched to the kindergarten classes and told the teacher the message the Principal asked him to pass around, the teacher who is the type not to let news pass her by left the headboy in her class against his will and flew to the Principal’s office where she met other news hungry teachers. There was a pregnant silence in the room as each teacher shuffled his feet out after hearing the news from the principal, those standing and sighing from time to time refuse to break the bad news.

” Yes, the Governor was shoot by unknown gunmen this afternoon ” he whispered to a teacher who just entered.
She flew out of the office the way she flew in and wailed as she ran back to her class.
” Sildren, Sildren the Gofnor is dead o, oya pack bag and wait for mummy and daddy. I will start call now okay “? She began to wail again and the confused kids joined as she dismissed the headboy.

Febisire trudged home with her friends burdened with the big bag containing loads of textbooks and the death of the man who just awarded her a full scholarship.
Her mother was not home when she got back and she stylishly took the key beneath the footmat in front of their apartment.

There is light and all the TV stations were showing clips of the Governor’s convoy and the aides who died trying to protect the Governor.

“What about the security personnel? The policemen? Where were they when this nefarious act was being perpetrated”? A man with white moustache and fading Grey hair screamed into the camera.

Febisire turned off the TV and went into the kitchen to carry the pap she couldn’t finish in the morning as she rushed to school, it has gotten cold.
There was knocks on the door as she spooned sugar into her pap.

Her mum entered the room with her bag clasped between her armpit

” turn on the TV, turn on the TV” she said without seating down

Febisire turned on the TV and went to sit behind the curtain, her mother squinted as she struggled to read what was written on the TV, she let out a yelp and began to hum, she brought out her phone and began to call everybody she knows retelling the sordid story with spice and sugar

Aunty Falila in London did not pick her phone and Febi wondered where her mother got the call card to call all the people she has been calling.

She fixed her phone to charge when she was done calling everyone and went into their room.
Febi knew why her mother was calling everybody, it wasn’t to discuss the misfortune that has befallen the state. It is to put it across to well-meaning people to her education is at stake.

She peered out through the dusty window, her fingers left marks on the pane, she pretended to be an Ifa Priestess and began to make scribbles on the pane the way she saw it in movies, a dog barked outside and she closed the curtain and ran into their room.

” Go and wash that your mouth and legs before you climb this bed”
” But I am not dirty ma” Febi sneered
“I am not raising a pig, go and wash that mouth before you climb this bed” her mother repeated
” you said mouth and leg before ”

” Go and shower before you climb this BED!”
” So I shouldn’t wash my mouth again? And my leg? I should just shower? Mummy, mummy” she moved closer and nudged her mother, she felt it before she saw it. The tingling pain that comes from the Koboko.

She howled and ran into the kitchen before running out and entering the bathroom, she didn’t stop howling as she meticulously scrubbed her body.

” if you don’t stop that nonsense, I will enter the bathroom and whip you some more. You want to be a problem child abi”?

Febi stopped howling, she hates it when she is called a problem child. She shivered as she stepped out of the bathroom, it has gotten dark outside and NEPA took the light as she creamed her body, a hush has fallen over the state, even the dog outside has stopped barking.

She climbed into bed eyes wide open as her mother combed her wardrobe searching for what she only knows.

It is not what it is.
©2017 KANZAHSAYS.COM ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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Febisire bent a little to avoid the corrugated iron makeshift shade in front of Mama Tochi’s shop. She had gone to collect the “Okrika” her mum just got for her, she is meeting her step siblings the next day and she must look her best. Her “Dad” had contacted her after 12 years of neglect, he needs to introduce her to her siblings he had told her mother. Her mother had never liked the fact that he ignored her, and she wouldn’t have allowed him introduce her to his kids but Iya Ebun’s incessant lectures about the thickness of blood than water changed Febisire mother’s mind. Her Dad knew she was his daughter but he never claimed her neither has he been there for her when she needed him. Graduation – no show, Birthdays – silence, Sick – no show not even when she had been awarded a scholarship did he call or message her to praise her for her achievement, despite it being shown on almost every TV station and announced on every radio station. It had been broadcasted over and over again “Febisire Olarinde awarded full scholarship by the Governor for her performance at the Spelling Bee competition”.

Her big mummy in London had called she was the one who paid her school fees then whenever her “Dad” is out of the country, that happens every time. He never sends what she needs to her when she needs it. Febisire had totally forgotten she had a “Dad” until the day he called.
Her mother had called Mama Tochi to ask when she would open a new bale of Okrika, Friday is the day a big sack of used clothes would be deposited in Mama Tochi’s shop, Febisire went to her shop early to select the best amongst the piles upon piles of the used clothes.

She had complained the first time her mother bought her set of sweaters and sandals from Mama Tochi’s shop,
“they smell like one dangerous chemical Jor, is the smell supposed to be the perfume for the clothes ni” she had asked as she screwed up her nose while her mother sorts through the clothes, her mother hissed loudly when she noticed a button was missing in one of the sweaters, another sweater had an inconspicuous hole which her mother said she could fix but nevertheless she was annoyed she had bought sweaters that has faults with her hard earned money
“it is second hand Mother, you shouldn’t expect more now” Febisire scoffed

Febisire stopped countering her mother when she saw the freshly laundered sweaters, they looked so new and cool, like something Gabriella in High School Musical would wear.

She bought detergent from the woman who sells beverages in front of her house, there is Dettol at home to disinfect the new dress. Febisire wondered whether her step siblings wear Okrika too.

****************
“Come in” a haughty voice said from within, Febisire opened the door to see a chocolate skinned girl lying lazily on a sofa in the big sitting room, the room was painted blinding white, silver curtains adorn the walls and there are wooden works of arts lying carelessly around the room. A carving of a Lion with his mouth open sat beneath the gigantic plasma screen. The table is made of fine glass that made Febisire look prettier than she was when she peered into it after she was left alone.

She shook her legs waiting for the haughty girl who had told her “wait” to come back, she was getting uncomfortable already, what would her other siblings reaction be like? Her mother had refused to come and did not tell her why, her cousins are away in Minna, Anambra and Ghana respectively, she was all by herself. Sweat was trickling from the back of her knee to her ankle and she quickly mopped it with her dress.

The door creaked and she sat up, the haughty girl came out first then she went back in, she could hear muffled laughter and screams of excitement.
” you go first shey you were going before now” a thin voice whined
” are you high? Have I not seen her before?” the haughty voice challenged

They continued in that manner and eventually came to an agreement, Febisire was sweating profusely at this point, her stomach churned and she regretted the tea she drank hurriedly fearing she would be late.

“Hello” the one with the thin voice said smirking, she has a beautiful round face, her chubby cheeks complimented her well shaped jaw, but there is still a silent stupidity to the overbearing perfection of her face. The crop top and leggings she wore screams thousands of Naira and Febisire wondered how much it would have cost compared to her own floral dress.
“her name is Kunmi and I am Kitan, our brothers are not in at the moment, they went to play ball… “the haughty one said, her voice trailing off she was dressed in a black and white playsuit, she tilted her head to a side as she typed on her phone, Febisire nodded and stared at the gold casing on the phone wondering if it was real gold- Dubai gold, Saudi gold, Italian gold, Nigeria gold… Wait, her Aunty Falila doesn’t mention Nigerian Gold when she is talking about Gold.

” what should we offer you, Dad and Mum are not around and won’t be back till evening, hold on, Hello Korede where are you guys? She is here. You guys should be fast Jor. Ehehehehehhe you are not serious, better come and see your sister hahahahahha” she hung up

” I am not hungry”
“fine” Kitan said and surfed through TV stations, Kunmi was quiet and stole glances at Febisire from time to time.
Febisire felt more uncomfortable and tried to sit back in the settee, but she sank into it instead the settee was just too soft not hard with it foams peeping out like the well beaten chair her mother kept saying she would change when she collects her arrears.

Kunmi and Kitan shared gossips and Febisire observed, Kunmi is the quiet one, her quiet nature is largely due to her cluelessness over stuff, she hangs on to Kitan’s every word. Kitan is the smarter not so pretty one, confident and so sure of herself. She is equally chatty and knows who is wearing cheap, expensive or knock off stuff.

The door opened and two lanky boys stumbled in, they were sweaty and dirty, grinning from ear to ear. They cast polite smiles at Febisire and went inside the kitchen.
” that is Kale and Korede our brothers ” one of them came out, the lighter of the two ” Korede is the baby of the house” Korede threw Febisire a pudgy smile and began to spread jam on the slice of bread he was holding, Kale came out of the kitchen and lunged for the bread, he stuffed it into his mouth and ran before Korede could seize him

“stupid boys” Kitan hissed and faced Febisire squarely
” what is your own name, Daddy only told us “our” sister is coming”
” Febisire” the sweat from her armpit was making her uncomfortable.
” what kind of name is that one?” Kitan challenged “why didn’t it start with K like our own” Kunmi was puzzled.

The door was opened before Febisire could answer and a slender tall man strides into the living room, he took one look at them all and asked “hope you guys are bonding” before leaving for his own room. A harsh loud voice reels out curses upon curses, the voice got nearer and the door reveals a fair skinned portly woman decked in French lace blouse and Velvet wrapper. Her Gele was tied in a flamboyant style, it looks large enough to shade at least three people from the angry stare of the sun when the need arises. Febisire thought she looks like Madam Kofo just that she was lighter.

” Rasaki your generation will never know peace, useless bastard eleriburuku omo irankiran” she screamed as she took a sit on the sofa her chest heaving, if the piles of makeup wasn’t on her face, she would have been called beautiful, but the crisscross of huge brows drawn in a lopsided manner which almost touches her forehead gave her a maniac look, dangerous red lipstick, shocking pink blush and alarming green eyeshadow did no justice to her beauty. Febisire saw the striking resemblance between her and Kitan.

Rasaki a haggard looking old man scurried into the living room with a big sack balanced on his back, his legs shook uncontrollably as he drags himself into the kitchen.

“Rasaki God will ruin you for me before you ruin me, olosi” she removes the gele from her head and fans herself. She realized the strange presence in the room
“yes, from where? Kunmi have I not warned you about keeping friends? She demanded with raised eyebrows, Febisire shuddered.

“Mummy that is our sister that Daddy talked about now” Kitan said looking bored and annoyed at the same time. Kunmi stood up and left the room.

“Oh oh, welcome my dear” she stood up and left the sitting room as Febisire genuflects.

Febisire sat for what seemed like an eternity before she announced she was living, Kitan offered to see her off.
“when will you come and visit us again”
“soon” Febisire said. She wanted to say more but Kitan has boredom written all over her face again.
“bye”
“bye”
Febisire wondered why her “Dad” acted the way he did, she was not expecting a grand welcome or niceness from anybody but she didn’t expect the indifference either.
“How did it go”? Her mother asked as she pulled off her shoes
“Fine, my Dad didn’t come out of his room till I left, mummy… ” her mother wasn’t listening, her eyes were glued to the TV screen, a woman was chasing her husband with her knife, the husband a fat man with sagging trousers and the wife a thin woman with extra large dress, it was a funny scene. Her mother wasn’t laughing, she only stared fixed to the screen as her eyes turn glassy.

It is not what it is.

© 2017 WWW.KANZAHSAYS.COM ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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Today I remember Uncle Ajayi, see we are not relatives, I don’t even know where he lives neither do I know anything about him apart from his name. But he was my teacher and you respect your teachers by calling them Uncle or Aunty. I don’t know why most schools in Nigeria subscribe to this form of respect between teachers and their students, perhaps it is because the teachers see themselves as extension of our family according to Dr.Alabi a lecturer in my department.

I remembered Uncle Ajayi, he did me no wrong you see, he just crept into my thoughts stealthy like a rat aiming for a pot of soup. I have my dictionary to thank for the remembrance and I am not kidding about that, you see Uncle Ajayi painstakingly enriched himself with knowledge. And he shows that with his use of words in the English Language.

Uncle Ajayi, a wistful smile is now curling around my mouth as his face dance around in my thoughts, the unruly moustache and beards that refuse to bow to the commands of his hands when he scratches the coily hairs and pats them to lie down. His hard chiseled face with almost aquiline nose, his hard dark mouth that forms a pout when he is disgusted and spews out hisses when he is angry. Uncle Ajayi of the hard hands that vibrates when he spanks your back and make it tingle for hours before it stops.

There were two Uncle Ajayis, the one that teaches Mathematics and the one that teaches Social studies or at times English Language. I never liked maths and my memory of the other Ajayi is his curled tongue which many people say could swallow fiery hot tea without scalding and ice-cold water without freezing, neither will his teeth ache, he has a Kola Tongue, they added. My Uncle Ajayi doesn’t have a Kola tongue, he has a Voca Tongue and he spends half of the time he ought to spend teaching reeling out humongous, magnificent, gigantic, bombastic words in English. Of course everyone will sit mesmerized, I wasn’t impressed because I hate it when he uses words we don’t understand, I would insult him inwardly because I believe some of the words could be insults. I eventually forgave him of his misgivings the day he boomed “What is the meaning of this hullabaloo” everyone went hush but I smiled triumphantly, I knew what hullabaloo is. Uncle Ajayi is not a deity.

Uncle Ajayi who had soft spot for my best friend Precious, brilliant Precious whose brain is as big as her head, or bigger, fair-skinned chubby Precious who refused to plait her hair even though we all told her she would look prettier. Precious who came and shook us all to our cores. The brilliant, the prettiest, the most talented all saw her as a threat. Precious who fainted and Uncle Ajayi almost cried as he carried her like a sack of Garri to the clinic in his wobbling legs.

Uncle Ajayi of the sky blue shirt on Monday, he doesn’t seem to have another, with his red tie. He looked like the students. Ever hungry Uncle Ajayi who yearns for knowledge he couldn’t afford, borrowing from me newspapers I took from my Grandfather’s table to read in peace in school, screwing his nose in disgust because I crumpled the pages. Ever hygienic Uncle Ajayi who wouldn’t eat groundnut that has been peeled.

Uncle Ajayi who had a soft spot for Aunty Christina that taught us Maths in primary 5. They would make a perfect couple I used to think because Aunty Christina is slim and soft while he is muscular and hard.

Uncle Ajayi who seem to hate us Muslims or me I guess because he looked at me somehow with his eyes that day as I decked myself in a big Hijab I got from my uncle’s wife. Then when I thought becoming a Niqabi was my calling.

Uncle Ajayi whom I saw around Unity road in Ilorin that day, in his sky blue shirt not tucked in, oh how he beats the boy in my class for doing so. His Palm slippers that has seen better days was coated brown with dust and his faded black trousers that has turned grey. He didn’t see me and I didn’t call him.