Visible Essence

CHAPTER SEVEN

I could tell mama was in serious trouble from where I stood, so i prayed for her in my heart, hoping she doesn’t get more of papa’s beating.

It was like God answered that particular prayer but then the devil invented worst. He had other plans for us and not just mama, this time.

"So you went to report to your people that I don’t feed you and the kids well or that I don’t give you money at all? He asked. 
      
“No” I didn’t. I only went to see my mother as I told you earlier.
                                                                                               "So does that explain why you didn’t tell me, you were leaving the house?.
                                                                                              Papa looked around the room continually, like he was searching for something, something that was never there.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                          Mama did not move, papa moved from side to side, we stood by the door, watching them. The ceiling fan rotated round and round and round, in a slow motion, so slow it could cause dizziness.

I wondered if it was the heat of the motion that caused the fan to spin that way. So slow like it was in -1. The silence was broken only by the noise of the ceiling fan as it sliced through the still air. 
               
   Mama looked like someone who is being suffocated, even duo she was standing right under the fan. Papa walked out of the living room and headed straight to the kitchen, he throw open the bag in which we packed the food stuffs, we brought from the village, and brought out the biggest tuber of yam in the bag, he picked a knife from the drawer and sliced the yam in an uneven manner.

He poured it all in a pot without peeling the back or washing them, poured a bowl of water, which was a little too much for boiling yam and put the pot on the stove.

I stood where I was wondering what he was up to!!! Without letting the yam boil properly, he ordered mama to put the pot down. She sieved the water in the yam and poured the yam in a bowl.

"Start eating" he said.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Mama looked up at him, from where she stood on the stool, with great surprise.

I wondered why papa was doing this, what he was actually going to achieve from that.

The rest of us remained quiet while mama dished out the yam, she brought out the gallon of red oil to pour out some oil that we would eat the yam with, but papa objected saying that we would eat the whole yam he cooked without oil or any liquid what so ever not even water.

   That was his punishment to us for not obeying him. And we would sat there eating white yam like a group of zombies that has being ordered by their master on what task to complete and they have no choice than to follow instructions less they face greater judgment.

I taught in my heart while I swallow a mouthful of yam in my mouth.

August 24th, was my birthday. The rays from the sun that penetrated through the window was strong on my face, and has woken me from my sleep, to find that the sunlight has overtaken the darkness that over whelmed us last night, as the night moon didn’t appear the previous night.

One would think that the acres of the moon had happened.

My spirit had cheered a little, when I perceived the aroma of the egusi soup (melon soup) oozing out from the kitchen.

Mama must be preparing it specially for me to mark my birthday, I taught in my heart as I rose from the bed and stretched my bones, and headed straight for the kitchen. The aroma got stronger as I approved the kitchen.

I stood at the door and inhaled the sweet aroma.
"delicious" I said in a murmured tone.

“Good morning mama”, i said in a cheerful tone, as one who won a noble prize.

   “Good morning my angel”, and how was your night?

  I smiled looked up at her and said am fine mother. 
                                                                                                                                 Hope you slept well? She asked. 
                                                                                                                                          “Yes” mama, I replied.
                                                                                                                                            Have you washed you face and mouth? She asked again.
                                                                                      I nodded in agreement, avoiding her eyes. Least she suspects I lied. I taught in my heart, who would remember those, with the kind of aroma that stuffed the whole house.