The rants of an antsy girl

01/02/2020

Saturday

As it happens year after year since I was old enough to know and remember things, my mother has always opened the floor for all February born. She sees this as an edge and as a gift from God, I don't know why, and she likes to celebrate it in grand style.
I would say she is vain, but I won't. She is my mother, she deserves the best birthday she can get.
Who cares anyway, it is her money. I don't even know how she has a lot of money to throw around when we don't even sell anything worth calling sales at her shop.
She has asked me to oversee the decoration going on the in the big sitting room, there are sweaty men setting up speakers and what not, some other people putting up balloons and a host of others just doing. I cannot tell what it is they are doing, but they are doing.
I am standing so upright and my movements are stiffly, I also keep looking behind me like something is chasing me but I don't know why or what.
Well, until my mother calls me and asks if Laju is around yet. I still am not used to receiving calls from my mother when we are in the same house. She can literally just scream my name from her room, it is not like it will upset her make-up artist or something.
The mention of Laju's name makes my insides turn cold. So this is why I have not been myself.
'I don't see her. She's not here.' I reply.
'I don't want any drama today between the both of you, when you see her, behave like a mature elder sister, like you ought and don't remove her ears from her head. Many respectable people will be coming, they must see I have daughters who respect each other.' I don't get her point, who is she trying to fool? She's a trader (rich and educated though) and she has a reputed for being nosy and getting into issues. When I say issues, I mean issues.
'You never even heard my side of the story!'
'Oh, your reaction to whatever your younger sister did or said to you leaves me no choice but to justify her. Just because I gave you some slaps doesn't mean I am over your stupidity.'
'You know you are being unfair. Whatever I did, Laju caused it. You always take her side.'
'Don't talk to me that way. Today is my birthday, at least respect me and... In short, I am not having this conversation with you. Like Aposto Paul said in the Bible, greet each other with a kiss,'
'But-'
'Also, send the photo man upstairs now.'
'He is called a photographer,'
'Go and tell JAMB and stop wasting my card!'
I want to smash my phone but I cannot, it will not happen, seeing as the phone is what keeps up my spirit these days.
'Laju, Laju!' Comes Anjola's voice from the lounge. 'Omo university!'
They should just kill me instead of having me listen to this.
'I've missed you,' Laju replies. She walks. Her eyebrows are neatly arched and her lips are blazing with the most matte kind of black lipstick. I would love to have something like that on, but for my amazingly dark skin. Also, whoever made her up, is really talented.
But it's not a battle of who is prettier or who's better dressed or who passed JAMB. Even though it feels like it is. And even though I am the more antsy one according to my father, Laju is that kind of person who announces her presence without even knowing it, and she enjoys the attention.
'Hello everyone!' She says as she comes in from the lounge and everyone greets her back. Then she comes to me.
Her smile has disappeared as soon as she sets her eyes on me.
I take the reins and flash a bright smile.
'Laju!' Then I hug her. She is unyielding to my hug and it feels improper, hugging like that.
'So-' I start to say.
'Where's Mommy?' She cuts. She keeps avoiding my eyes and I notice she has on some crimson contacts.
One of the perks of being in the university as a child of my father's, is you can do whatever you want so long as you have settled it with God.
'She's upstairs.'
'Thanks.' She says and scoots off.

...

The event planners had moved the overstuffed armchairs out to the side verandah, which overlooked the last of what was a pool, to make room for sets of round tables with chairs around them. For I moment, I forget that it is still my house. They had put artificial bunches of white roses on fancy tripods in different corners of the room and switched the bulbs on the chandeliers from the normal yellow ones to other colours.
The decorators even put a fairly large grassy background on one side of the wall with a small red carpet on the floor in front of it for the guests to take pictures. There must be a ton of photographers here.
Efosa is coming towards me from the door. He is smiling broadly and his dimples sink deeply in his cheeks. He is wearing jeans, slacken but the best I've seen him in and his hair looks like it has just been combed, looking so much like a polish toucher.
'Hello,' He says and hugs me. He smells like there was a little haggling on the bus he entered.
I was a little surprised when my mother invited himself and his mother, she handed them invites; small pink slips that guests have to show to the security men before they enter.
'I almost didn't find your house. Ironic.' He chuckles.
'How so?' I ask and lead him to one of the chairs.
He stops in his tracks for a dramatic effect and shoots me a look of surprise.
'Really? Like, you want to play the ignorance card?'
'Whaaat?' I drawl in excited amusement.
'Why didn't you tell me you guys are rich people?'
'Not rich. Bourgeois.'
He makes a face. 'That is just a fancy and inadequate way of saying you people are rich enough to blow away money!'
My dad passes us then, he is talking to Kamaru, one of our security tech guys, a surprisingly intelligent one at that.
'Who is that?'
'My dad.'
'Look at his shoes! They can buy someone's house!'
I laugh.
'I like how you look though,' He says to me as we sit.
I am not my mother, but I love flattery sometimes, seeing as I get less than none most of the time. This is why I like Sisi Onitsha- she flings it at will.
'Thank you!' It's really nice though. Laju comes down then with Anjola. We have sewn the same style on the request of my mother. Ankara shorts with white tees.
'Are you a twin?' Efosa asks as he see her.
'No.'
We are on our third bottle of Sprite each when my mother finally comes from her room. Many guests have arrived now, mainly members of my dad's palmwine drinking group. Respected bald headed men of timber and Calibre; Professors, two bank CEOs, many bank managers, association export and imports dealers, car dealers, brand owners. Most of them have their thin wives, heavily made up to hide signs of aging, dangling off their fat arms.
Acquaintances of my mother's too are present, each of them are trying to out-do themselves with their elaborate dresses. They don't seem to like each other much though since they keep greeting my mother with their bad english accents and kisses, and many fake smiles.
'Happy blissful birthday, Urowoli!'
It is amazing how she knows most of these women, actually, one would expect that a nosy market woman like her would invite a host of her fellow amebos.
She is a funny woman, my mother. Once, Laju said she is like a beautiful three dimensional painting, different sides make up the beauty. Laju has a stronger relationship with my mother.
Some of Laju's friends from school come to and I am left to hold my mother's iPad from which Destiny is watching us. I find it quite ridiculous though, he is not even in front of the camera!
Our local church pastor opens the event with a too long prayer and soon people are moving to the cool blues.
My parents make a lovely couple as they dance alone. We join too and at some point, I am asked to dance with Laju. She keeps shooting me cold menacing looks, which is chilling especially with her crimson contacts and the tension hangs thick around us.
The MC comes up after a while and makes everyone toast to my mother with tall slender glasses filled halfway with sparkling wine.
My mother keeps changing her clothes and the women in turn keep showering their compliments.
When it is eight, some girls from the event planner's group bring out the cakes. My mother is only aware of two; the yellow-green buttercream and the chocolate stilletto shaped one I baked. The third is fondant. It is quite simple except for the biscuits, cards and chocolate bars on the top.
'Pull it,' My Dad says pointing to something on the top of the cake. I cannot see it from where I am standing with Efosa, holding up the iPad so Destiny can see what is happening.
My mother obliges and lo, it is a long line of sellotaped five hundred naira notes, it seems unending for a moment and as she is drawing, we are all cheering and clapping.
Later on, some bard comes up to sing my mother's praises, courtesy of my Dad (he must really love her) and then, my mother asks me to cut up the buttercream for the guests.
Efosa goes with me to the kitchen. Zita is washing the dishes feverishly when we enter and she is quite startled when she sees us.
Anjola serves the slices of cakes while we talk, popping slices into our mouths at intervals.
'Whoever you have given this cake contract, is really good.'
'I made it.'
'Seriously?'
I nod.
'How much were you paid?'
I am surprised. 'Nothing.'
He seems disappointed, then he starts talking of using your skills to your advantage.
Anjola cuts him off to my advantage when she asks us to come for pictures.
We are taking pictures and the DJ riles everyone up with some rough music.
I get another message on my phone.

Embers for members or nether?

I shove my phone into my purse and turn to Efosa. I am sure this is not a Bible verse.
The MC calls us to give our speeches, I am talking and I get so emotional, tears are pooling in my eyes when I hear a piercing scream. It is gripping and it sends a ripple of fear round the room.
'Please!'
'Zita!' Anjola calls back and heads toward the kitchen.
Within the minute, the whole party turns chaotic.
As Anjola goes the kitchen, there is a loud blast and bright orange flames burst out of the door. Smoke fills the air and soon, everybody is running and screaming.
I am rooted to where I had been giving my speech and I can see people rushing out through the door that leads to the lounge, the side verandah where the sofas were kept.
I search in desperation for Laju and my mother, then my Dad.
'Outside! Outside!' My Dad is shouting to Anjola who in turn comes to me, she is dragging me but I do not budge. I cannot will my legs to move. The fire is so bright orange, and they seem to colour Zita's painful screaming. Some people are trying to put it off, I think it is Efosa but I am not sure, perhaps it is the tattooed, mohawk DJ.
Anjola slaps me across the face and drags me towards the side verandah where people are pushing to come out through.
Laju and my mother follow behind us, they are screaming.
For a moment, they are Zita then they are themselves again.
On impulse, I bite Anjola's gripping hand away from my wrists, she yelps and looses her grip. I tear through the crowd and walk back inside, my mother is wailing my name, asking the people to stop me, to call emergency. Nobody does so though since everyone is trying to escape.
I don't like Zita, but I think of her lying in the fire like suya. I cannot take it.
I run to the fire, to the big orange glow. A steel grip catches my wrists and stops me from further proceeding.
Some people are breaking out white window panes, trying to get out.
I struggle with whoever was holding me and finally give in when someone, wrapped in huge blankets emerges the fire with a body.
Someone shouts about finding an extinguisher. Another person is talking about the fire exit upstairs, tyres are screeching hastily on the road.
The sounds are getting distant by the moment.

Embers for members, or nether?

The last I can see and recognize is Efosa, he is screaming a lot. Everybody is screaming a lot too.
Then the inkiness of the sooty night engulfs me.