Jollof Love

9- Stirrings of Trouble

Nini felt something tickle down the side of her face. She brushed it off, and turned to her other side as she continued her sleep. Again, after a little while, it came back, this time inside her ear, and she heard a long, buzzing sound.

She slapped her ear twice, resulting in her blocking it. She looked around for the mosquito or whatever insect it was, the sleep still in her eyes, and her eyes landed on the miscreant in the form of her little cousin.

"Oh, no, no, no!" She whined.

Her little cousin giggled and ran out of her room. Nini threw her covers away, grabbed her phone next to her and stormed off into the living room. There, the little miscreant, her cousin, Jamal, was already sitting at the dining table, a hot bowl of pap and some Akara buns before him.

Nini looked at the time on her phone. It was 9:56 a.m.

"Ah, Ninioluwa, o ti ji?" Her mother said, coming from the kitchen.

"Mummy, what's he doing here?" Nini asked.

"His mother dropped him off early this morning," Her mother answered. She was already dressed for work, her corset working to give her a great shape in the shirt and trousers she wore.

"Early in the morning? What did he do?" Nini asked. Jamal was lapping at the hot pap in a way children of 8 years old weren't supposed to. Nini wondered why he hadn't cried from the pain of a burnt tongue, but again, it was Jamal.

"Ninioluwa, I don't like it when you accuse the boy of doing something without even knowing whether he did something," her mother reprimanded lightly, rubbing a loving hand on Jamal's head. Nini folded her arms and regarded her mother, waiting for her to drop the truth.

"Okay, he only mistakenly started fire in the kitchen," her mother finally revealed.

"Fire?" Nini shouted. "So they thought it was a good idea to bring this pyromaniac..."

"Ninioluwalere," her mother hushed her with a warning glare. "Don't call my boy names, ee jo."

"What's a pyromanica?" Jamal asked, tearing a ball of Akara.

"It means you're a maniac who likes fire..."

"Ninioluwa!"

"What?" Nini asked. "He asked for an explanation, and I gave him one."

Jamal munched on the Akara thoughtfully. "What's a maniac?"

"Look, Ninioluwa, he will just be here until the builder redoes that part of their kitchen, that's all," Nini's mother announced.

"Ehn, Mummy, no oo." Nini immediately protested. "I would rather live with a crying bush baby than this one. Mummy oo, tell Aunty Wunmi that it's not possible. She should come and carry her son."

"Look, he's your cousin, wait, let me check what I put on fire," Her mother rushed back into the kitchen. Jamal gave Nini a smile, his mouth oily with Akara. Nini scrunched her face and tried her best not to eye him.

Nini had discovered long ago that Jamal was a walking birth control. In the situation that a couple was wondering whether to start a family or travel the world for a while, all they needed was one week with Jamal to know travelling was the goal if they didn't want to grow gray hair in their thirties. Jamal was the definition of stubbornness with the terrible mix of the last born privilege, and worse, he was the only boy after three girls.

Nini didn't know when the dislike for her cousin started. Some might call her childish for 'meaning' an eight year old, almost nine, but she disagreed if that eight year old had the cunning skills of Ijapa the tortoise told in folktales, except he was sneakier, and possessed running speed of a leopard. But she might say it kind of solidified around the time Jamal had been gifted a phone. He knew the workings of WhatsApp too, and took so many pictures of everything and anything.