My grandma’s thoughts on reincarnation were funny, although there were deeply rooted in colourful roots.
“There are pain a man inflicts on a woman that are plain evil, yet they colour the imagination with bright colours of what should have been, I bask in those what should have been.They have helped me through nights I suffered like a cat pounded in a sac” mama said, tugging gently at her thick black and white hair, with a solemn ‘fed up’ look on her face.
I never met my grandfather, Mama’s husband however, Mama’s narrative of him were hilarious yet she told them with seriousness.
“He was a strong man, your grandfather” she said, “yet his strength deceived him so much that he thought he could handle two women at once, till the day a sorry looking whore came to my kiosk just in front of our shabby house, she looked at me deep into my eyes like a woman who has shared a secret with me, Mama’s demeanour will change at this point of the story as she tries mimicking the ‘sorry looking whore with exaggeration jamming every word and action.
“Mama Deji, Wetin I wan tell you so, e no good make you hear am from my mouth but I no know who to send. Soldier dey hospital o, his Koko break small but no be me cause am, I Don do my own finish, na im the other dirty girl wey him bring come climb on top dey ride him like Jincheng bike wey no gree start o.
He just the shout like dog wey see spirit, me I just dey look them, na in the girl come turn reverse on soldier, as she dey fire na im Solidier scream Jesu o! Before I know am he start the cry small, I abuse the stupid girl wella for you before I go look for motor wey carry us go Zuma clinic, na there I leave him o,
I no get hand for him broken koko.
” The expired witch, mama spat. “Do you know she had the lustful guts to tell me my husband was owing her seven hundred naira and she didn’t mind if i paid on his behalf, me, Ajoke, after giving birth to his children, pay for his whores, ah Eledumare will be angry if my one Kobo was used to pay for my husband’s consultation with those witches.”
“Mama did you go to the hospital? I asked urgently with stupid excitement, “what was Baba’s reaction?
“Ajoke let me tell you what I did to that sorry looking whore that turned a messenger first, don’t jump the story, you need every detail for clarity and enjoyment.
And so she continued, “the whore gave her taboo of a speech and I just stared her at her with laughter, since our waters now harboured the same ship, we were kindred in a flimsy way. I laughed so much that she got scared and started calling me a mad witch in three languages we both knew how to speak, she didn’t know how to deal with my reaction, apparently she never anticipated it, so she left a bit shaken and traumatised. She kept looking back at me as she strolled out of the filthy street and I kept laughing till I could see her no more.
Mama wiped the tears that laughter formed in her eyes. I kept a poker face as I waited for her to bring my grandfather into the story.
She stared at me, looking at my face like she was watching her past play out on my fore head, she shakes her head gayly as she said “I strolled majestically into the house, I made sure I wore my best skirt and blouse, I wanted to wear it on Sunday to church but that day was a holy day too. I polished my black bag and anointed my body, from my head to my toes with perfume. Thank God none of my children were home, no child their age should be allowed to hear the obscenities that gyrated from that whore’s mouth. I flagged down an okada to take me to the hospital, I kept giggling but my mind was empty, it was merely being entertained by my thoughts. When I alighted from the bike, the Okada man asked me in Hausa if I was visiting someone that gave birth, I asked him why he thought so, he said my happiness was infectious.
“Allah ajei mama dey yaro” he said as he fired his bike,
I laughed some more, it was time.
To be continued…