To be stong is all you got

Never give up

That's the least we can do

I want you, I want us

MAMA’S JOY (I)

          

                                                  

 

“What a life”

To wake up to the sound track of moving vehicles that I have no business with.

“Ada!!!” Daddy screamed “I need my trouser ironed and my shoe polished; besides have you boiled my bath water yet?”

I grumbled “I am boiling your water Sir”.

 It still amazes me. I could never be up as early as 4:50am.  It is probably the prayer of my late mother Ezinne.

“My one million dollar baby” mama will say.

I would chuckle and wrap my hands around her waist.

“Adaobi I am certain that you must be stupid this morning, open this door!”

I am dead! How was I carried away this time? Papa will kill me.

He has never liked me ever since my mum died in my grade 2.

“Better disappear before I get back tonight” papa said.

Sorrow defines me best.

This lonely home I live in haunts me everyday. No school, no friends and practically no life.

“Ada”

“Ha! Is papa back?”

“Ada ooo “

“Kunle is that you?”

I raced to the door. “You still shout Ada with this your parted red sea?”

“Ada!”  Kunle sternly said

“I am leaving”

“I am sorry jor”

 I am so fond of Kunle. His gapped tooth is not impressing but I love it just the way it is. After all my bow leg isn’t a better option, it is something my father hates about me. Not so bothered because Kunle ignores that part of me.

I am the happiest; at least I don’t scare people with eyes like that of an old owl. But maybe papa fails to look in the mirror, sigh.

The day had gone dark and Kunle had to go before my dad gets back.

“I would see you another day” He said.

As mama will say “another day maybe never again”

Indeed I never saw Kunle again.

My life became an epitome of pain. I could wish for death

Infact, I wished for death.

The more I asked for death the more I loose a loved one.

But why hasn’t this death taken papa?

After papa and I were told that Kunle died in his sleep due to his asthma attack, papa has never stopped referring to me as “aje” a witch.

Funny enough I laugh whenever he says this.

The struggle between his tongue and his voice to put out three letters was a view never to miss.

You can imagine an Igbo man from inewi in Anambra state saying “aje” LOL it sounded like he was wishing me well.

He accused me of using my late mother’s blood for rituals to straighten my leg. Trust me I would have preferred to use his balls.

Now that Kunle is dead, what’s next? My life hasn’t ended yet. I got to keep moving.

Not too long after papa and I had moved to Onitsha he lost his job, so he has been on a job hunt.

God bless his hustle.

In me, I found a talent. I used to scribble all my sorrow in rough sheets.

I saved thirty naira and I had in mind that I was going to buy a note book to save all my writings.

On one Sunday afternoon after papa had finished ranting and speaking gibberish he told me to Vamoose the house.

Papa said I had irritated him far beyond what he can swallow. Obviously he didn’t try chewing. I sighed.

And of course I ran along not forgetting to steal a biro. I have been freed. I’m freed at last.

But wait! No where to rest my head.

Who do I even know? Na wa oo. What a cruel world.

Some people must be walking dead!

So many people passed me by and watched me hide under a mango tree beside an ant hill while it rained cat and dog.

Not one person offered a coat.

I said to myself “I must buy this note book”

Ten o’clock the next day with my ripped skirt and bogus top I roamed the street with no direction in search for a note book to buy at thirty naira.

The day couldn’t get worse as the sun had beat directly on my well shaven scalp.

After the long queue I finally got my note book so I began my story.

All the books my late mum read to me always had a story of the writer at the commence of the book.

So I started...

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