Jonathan and Other Weird Stories

That Sunday (six)

After Pastor Ejiro's teaching, Dorcas and I bought the food stuff from the market. Then I wheeled her to her house, along the side of the road bordered by bushes and shrubs, so Dorcas could pluck some fresh leaves as she loved doing.

But Dorcas sat still, quiet, in one of her thoughtful moods. Later, Dorcas said, "Do you think Mama will agree to marry my grandfather?"

Mama would never, but I couldn't tell Dorcas that—I did not want her to think I thought a union between our houses was impossible, because I had my heart set on Dorcas. "I think she will."

Dorcas sighed, like it was the answer she feared. "What Pastor Ejiro really wants is the land, not her. I wish Mama would just sell the land to him, instead of being his wife." She hesitated, then said: "I'm tired of moving back and forth every Sunday in this stupid chair that Mama put me in. I wish—"

"Mama's chickens."

"What?"

"Mama's chickens put you in the chair, not Mama," I said, gripping the handles of her wheelchair tighter. It is not a memory I was fond of. "The chickens chased you—"

"And Mama just stood there, watching and laughing."

"There's no way she could have known you'd climb up the tree. And keep climbing, so high, before you grabbed the wrong branch and..." I chuckled, but it was a dry laugh. "They were just chickens."

"Just chickens?" Her voice was poisoned with so much irritation, I wished I had just kept quiet. Dorcas sat up in the chair. It is not a memory she was fond of either. "I was ten and I had just arrived in the village from Lagos; my parents had just died, and I had to live here with my grandfather; I was new to the whole 'village life' thing. They weren't just chickens to me."

I had to concede now. "I'm sorry."

"Cool."