Forlorn Ecstasy

CHAPTER 4

The cool early morning breeze mixed with smoke from freshly burnt dried grass filled my nostrils as we had breakfast in the room.

"How was the journey?" Mum asked Dad.

Dad used a table knife to spread butter evenly on the bread.
"I'm never letting Ken drive again. He almost got us killed."

Ken stared at his tea non-challantly, stirring it in relaxed circular motions with a tea spoon.
Mum gave me a look, telling me I had a lot of explaning to do afterwards.

Guests began to stop by, to say 'Welcome' and ask if Dad was out of his room yet so that they could greet him themselves instead of relying on us to pass their greetings. Most promised to come back later, seeing he was still inside.

Aunty Martina was rather reluctant to leave. She used the chewing stick in her right hand to clean her teeth at intervals and her other hand to firmly keep her wrapper in place.
I noticed dried akamu at the side of her mouth as she forcefully made her way in, deciding to wait for Dad inside.

She sipped a drink as she waited patiently in the living room.
The living room was austere. Mum said it wasn't befitting for Dad's social status. A red linoleum covering the concrete floor, twelve leather arm-rest chairs, a partitioned stand in oblong layers containing the television and an old, intercontinental, wooden globe.
Sometimes, it reminded me of my life; plain and bland.

When Dad came out, I stood at the passage and eavesdropped.
She asked Dad for money to set up a business, listing a lot of things she would do if she was given the money.
Dad went inside and returned shortly. He brought a bundle of money and gave it to her.

She immediately fell on her knees, clutching the money tightly. "Imela! Thank you Sir Celestine. May my God bless you."

"Get up, get up" Dad said modestly. He was used to being praised.

She sat on the floor and threw up her hands. "You are the father I don't have. The helper I don't have." She hit her chest "You will never lack anything in this life Sir Celestine."

Dad patted her back. "Amen, Martina." He cleared his throat. "Now, I want you to put this money into good use. Exactly what you told me."
She thanked him again and left the house, taking her drink with her.

A minute later, she came back with some women. As soon as they stepped into the house, they began to sing customized praises to Dad. Loudly stamping their feet to give some sort of rhythm and waving their white handkerchiefs in the air.
Later, Dad gave them a bottle of groundnut each and they left happier than they came.

♡☜☆☞

After lunch, I sat at the verandah wallowing in my own thoughts.
Dad and Mum were having conversations with guests. Tito had gone off with some scrawny looking boys of his age. They ran around shooting bangers and trying to catch lizards. Ken and BB went to watch an inter-communal football match in their white tees and burgundy coloured shorts. The match was hosted by the Ndi ogbe.

A startling clap behind me brought me back to reality.
Placing my hands on my chest in an attempt to calm my leaping heart, I turned around to see who or what was responsible.
It was Ebere, Aunty Martina's daughter.

She pointed at the barn beside a pile of fire wood. "Uju, I standing there, calling you. Why you do ignored me?" She attempted to speak her not-so-good English and I cringed at her vocabulary but understood nevertheless.
Actually, I heard my name a few times and when I turned around, I saw a figure waving, but I couldn't discern the face.

"Sorry, I'm myopic"

She gave me a lost look and I understood that she didn't comprehend.

"I'm near-sighted" I added and she gave me that same look, scratching her dark skin that lacked moisture due to the harsh climate.

I shook my head. "I meant, I can't see far or distant objects clearly."
She smiled nervously and nodded her head in understanding this time.

"Let us walk arand" She said giddily.

"err..." I shook my head. A journey with her didn't sound appealing to me.

"Please," she begged. "You love it"

I did not listen to her as she went on explaining the fun places in the village. My gaze was fixed on her dry, chapped lips.
She used her saliva to moisten it as she spoke but it worsened the state of her lips, making it appear more flaky and broken.

When I agreed to follow her, she smiled widely, thinking that her pointless explanations had somehow convinced me.

She linked our hands as we began the journey. Her scaly, dry skin grazing mine.
The song she started to sing was familiar. It was the song we sang back in School as we marched into our classes, swaying our arms to the beats of the school band. Only, her lyrics were mismatched. Different from what I knew and what we sang.
She gave me a gentle nudge in the ribs, urging me to sing along to the dissimilar lyrics and when I politely declined, she tightened her grip on my arm and sang much louder.

I tried to ignore the rough, weird feeling of her sand-paper like hands in mine by focusing on the unpleasant scent of the ogiri which some women had processed and left to dry.

She tapped on my shoulder and I turned to look at her.
"Toilet is worrying me" she said.

"What?" I asked, confused by her words and it's meaning. "I don't understand "

She released her other hand from mine and held her stomach. "My stomach is do me somehow. I need to free it"

I shrugged, a little relief in my chest. "I guess we would have to go home then"

"Mba, No, no, no" she pointed at the bush. "I go do it here"

My eyes opened in shock and before my mouth could come up with words she had run into the bush.

She came out a while later, her hands on her waist and a smile on her face.
My gaze travelled from her hands to her face and then back to her hands.

"What did you use to clean up?"

She looked around the bush and pointed at some leaves.

"Oh.. " I nodded, trying to hold in my shock and surprise.

When she came closer and tried to hold my hands like before, I stepped backwards and boldly told her that she did not wash her hands.
She sighed sadly, a melancholic look on her face. Like my hands were a prize she deserved and I prevented her from accessing it.

She placed her hand on her jaw and seemed to be pondering for a while. " Let us went along to the stream. Ayido stream."

I opened my mouth to correct her and to decline her sudden invitation but she beat me to it.

"I go wash my hands there and you sef go have fun kwa"

A/n
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Ndi ogbe- street people
Akamu-pap. A semi liquid meal prepared from corn
Imela-you have done well, thank you
Ogiri- a local spice
Mba- no
Kwa- too