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Thursday, November 22, 2012

THE FIRST DAY OF AN UGLY BEGINNING.

Mama is sitting in the courtyard, her palms on her chin and elbow on her laps, which is covered with the worst of all her wrappers- she saves the rest for the women's meeting and special occasions. Solomon, my four year old brother is playing in the sand, which Papa would have flogged him for but unfortunately, he is absent and Mama does not care at all if Solomon fondles the filthy sand, full of saliva and other dirty items. From the impatient tapping of feet, to the smacking of her black lips, I can smell trouble all around our small apartment. I run around the kitchen, searching for every possible weapon Mama must have envisaged would break Papa's head, for having the guts to touch her savings, savings meant to make up my fees for the next session which was only a week away.
"Segun,”

"Ma," I responded running to the kitchen, from my prying spot .

"Segun where is my kitchen knife, “she began.

My heart beat because if I tell Mama I have no clue, she would fling the back of her palms carelessly on my face, the rational half of my mind tells me to pretend to find it but before I even decide which to follow, Mama angrily walks out of the kitchen to meet Papa.
"The fool is here, “she barks, clapping her palms together, firmly tying her wrapper which is faded and confuses me on what colour it had been before its present state, when I try to think. Papa tries to ignore her, moving towards our room door. Mama hurriedly races towards the door, covering it with her massive size.
"You spend my savings on that scarecrow your loose brain tells you is better than I am, and you come here with the thought of resting, you must be mad. “
"Biola, I am in no mood for your foolishness right now, get out of my way, “he said, moving towards our door again.
Mama pushed him so hard that his body hit a part of the old stem that has been used to hold our twines on which my school uniform was spread. My blue school shirt flew into Omawumi's veranda, our neighbour who had left her four children to rage Mama with the kind of side talks she would like to hear, which confirmed Mama'ssuspicion.
Papa forced himself up, aggressively moving towards Mama. In a split second, Mama's nose had started bleeding as a result of the force of Papa’s punch. She wailed, running up and down the compound, calling out to the neighbours and threatening Papa must kill her.
"Ayoola, you must kill me today, “she said, proceeding into our clustered kitchen, disorganizing it more by throwing down most items in search of the knife. Then her eyes rested on the wooden pestle, she gladly pulled it from its position running out of the kitchen.

"Papa, “I screamed running towards Solomon, to raise him from the ground. My voice was not loud enough, Mama's pestle landed on the rear of Papa's head; he fell with his face to the ground. With the gravity of Mama's pestle, I knew Papa would never watch me get into secondary school; he would never witness any progress in my life, never. Before our neighbours gathered the scene to shake their heads and tell Mama to take heart, I carried Solomon to the backyard to shed the entire tears that welled up in my eyes. As I cried, drops of my tears fell on Solomon’s head, some on my khaki shorts. This was obviously the first day of an ugly beginning. Two days later, Omawumi inadvertently told Mama she was not certain if Papa was actually having an affair with the girl at his workplace, she said she had only seen them chat and her conclusions were based on the way she had seen Papa smile at her. We fed on a meal per day, and I did not complain, I did not dare intensify Mama's sorrows by complaining I was tired of eating poorly cooked soup on a daily basis, I ate them with feigned excitement that made her rub my head and tell me everything would be alright. It was never going to be, I could imagine as soon as the police van halted in our compound and the thin man who looked bereft of strength to pull even an arrow, or the gun beside him, took Mama away after using the rusted handcuffs to marry her wrists. by Merit Gogo-fyneface.

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