MUMMY

    It rained last night so the grass was still very wet. It was the first day of the second term and our class teacher conducted a test for us. The test was meant to refresh our brains over the previous term's lesson. As usual, I came first in all subjects except mathematics. Tope, a male classmate of mine, who had a mean face and broken teeth came first, and I didn't care. I hated maths.
    

   I went home from school on that day, my test results in my hands, half walking, half running, not minding that the wet grass was staining my clean white socks. I knew my mother wouldn't scold me that day because I passed my test. I could see our house from a short distance, my mother stood arms akimbo, facing my father, she was talking in a very loud voice, her heavy bossom gently going up and down.
  

 "Mummy, mummy!" I screamed excitedly. My mother heard my voice and stopped talking, she already knew I had come first again,she opened her arms and I ran into them laughing. "You always make me proud, Omo mi" she said, hugging me so tight that I almost suffocated. "Daddy, good afternoon, see my result" I said to my father. "good for you, you have made your mother proud" he said and turned to go inside the house. "and she hasn't made you proud enh?" my mother shouted after him. "shut up, woman!" my father barked at her turning around. "oh! so she isn't your daughter? you accuse me of not giving birth to a son, yet you don't treat our daughter like your own. How on earth would God give you a son when you don't appreciate the one he has given you?" my mother shouted. 

   

 I don't know if I love my father. I really do not know. He smiles only when his friends are around. When he and his friends are eating pounded yam and efo riro with bush meat and palm wine to wash it down. That is when I see him smile. When he, Baba Ade with the bushy and dirty beards, the hunter and one other man whose name I do not know are through with their meals, they sit outside and talk about politics and women.

  

 My father does not like me, that I know. I am not a boy, so I am worthless.

 
    "Which one did he give me? This one?" my father asked, pointing at me. He slapped my mother before she could utter any word. She fell on the ground and he started beating her. I watched helplessly as my father beat my mother, tore her clothes and beat her again. I watched as few of our neighbors came in to rescue my mother. 

"What did you say to your husband to deserve this beating?" I heard mama Titi ask "You women, learn to respect your husband. We are the head of the family" he man said. 

Mama Titi took my mother to her house and my father's friend took him inside to talk to him.

   A week later, Father married a new wife.

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     My father's wife, Arewa gave birth to a son and our house became more peaceful until two years later, when one day, Arewa, whose turn was it to prepare my father's meal went to the market to buy food stuffs and didn't come back on time. 

    Sensing the danger that was to befall her junior wife, My mother prepared the meal for my father. Just as my mother served father his meal, Arewa came in. "Who cooked?" Father thundered. "Its Arewa" Mother answered. 'So why did you serve it? Does she have no hands and legs? So she cannot respect me again just because she has a boy?" "Do you think you are special?" He asked Arewa.

   Before she could reply him, my father landed her a big slap, pushed her to the ground and started kicking her " aaah!" my mother shouted. " leave her alone, you murderer" my mother started to pull at my father's shirt, biting him all over his body. I ran out to call our neighbors, and when we got back, my mother and Arewa were lying on the ground, my father on top, hitting them hard.
    

   The next day, Arewa left our house for good. "You are a useless old man" She said "A coward who cannot go to the bush to hunt, who cannot even wrestle with a man like him but uses his strength on a woman who is weaker than him" She left  with her son and my father became miserable.
   

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     I was in my office that day, when the phone rang. My mother was calling. "The woman needs money again" I thought. I wanted to send some money to her the day before, but I was very busy at work so I couldn't make it to the bank. "maybe I will send my secretary this afternoon" I said to my self. "Hello, Maami" "Kikelomo mi, how are you? how is work? how is Abuja" my mother sounded tired or...frustrated. "Fine ma, I wasn't chanced yesterday, I wanted to send some money-" I started to explain why I couldn't send money cross to her " Your father is sick, Kike. He has partial stroke."my mother said.
   The next day, I went back home to Osogbo. My father was lying on the sofa, his left side paralyzed, his face still as cold as ever. His sister, aunty Abeke was there talking to my mother " I don't even know what to say. Just take care of your husband. We will also do all we can to help" she said. I looked at my father, his mean face looked so determined to hold on to life. I wondered why my mother didn't leave him like Arewa did. Arewa remarried, and she had two more children for her husband. Why didn't my mother leave? Why did she decide to stay? This were the questions I kept asking myself as I left back for Abuja.

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   Few weeks later, I was sitting in my living room, reading "Daddy"  by Danielle Steel, when my phone rang. "Hello" I said into the phone. "Hello, Kike. It's Arewa".  My father's ex wife. We still keep in touch. She loves  my mother. " Aunty, how are you" I was happy to hear her voice " Come home, Kike. We need you" she said and hung up.
   I knew my father had died. I can't imagine how my mother would take it, for she loved the man so much even though he maltreated her. As for me, I don't know how I feel, the man never loved  me. I am only going to console my mother. I won't even cry.
   Arewa was the first to meet me at the gate. "Kikelomo" she cried. Arewa was weeping uncontrollably " Its ok" I said as I hugged her.  "No its not ok...Its never going to be..." she wailed.
    Just then, aunty Abeke came out with my father in a wheel chair. Arewa began to wail again, rolling on the ground. " aunty Abeke, Maami nko? where is my mother" I asked, panicking " where is Maami" I ran into the house and saw my mother's lifeless body, so still, so peaceful. I looked around and saw my father on the wheel chair, tears streaming down his mean face. "Maami" I wailed. 

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     I chose to treck  to the car pack the day my mother was buried. I passed the market, my mother's shop, I saw MamaItunnu,  the fat woman who used to tell my mother not to leave my father because he would change. I saw Iya elewe who scolded Arena for leaving our house I remember she said a woman must must not leave her husband's house, no matter what she is going through.  I passed the church and saw good old pastor Maxwell, who occasionally came to pray for peace in our house. All of them still living, while my mother was six feet beneath us. 

LETTER FROM A BLACK BEAUTY

  Papa,
   

    You said Lagos so I would be rich like brother Emeka, who bought a car for his mother and hired someone to drive her around the village, and Ikemefuna, the goldsmith's son, who built a house for his father. You also said I would be rich like Ifeyinwa, who opened a big store for her mother.
     Mother used to tell me every morning when we pass the store on our way to the market, that I would build a bigger store. She had high hopes for me. How is mother? How is my sister, Olanna? I know she is dreaming about Lagos. Tell her, Father, tell Olanna to stop dreaming about Lagos because it is not paradise. How are your goats and Mother's poultry? I hope you are all doing well. How is Papa Eke? He has always wanted to visit Lagos.
    You must be surprised, Father, that I have not bought a car, or built a store. I'm so sorry, Father, that i couldn't buy the car you want.
    Oh! Father, tell Olanna to stop dreaming about Lagos. You must be surprised that I say this. Don't even compare me with Ifeyinwa, she is light skinned, I am not surprised she is rich.
     It's been years now, Father. I went to school. It's no news to you that I passed my SSCE, but let me remind you. It's no news too, that I gained admission into a good university. That is where it all started, Father. I was told how beautiful i was. I was nicknamed "Beauty and the Brain", you won't know what it means. It means I am beautiful and brilliant. I Know you are smiling now.
    Father, I graduated with a first class. It means I had a very good result. First class in English Language. You must be really smiling by now. Father, I haven't gotten a job, even with my good grades.

    Father, my career as a model crashed because i am dark skinned! And i thought i was beautiful. Oh Father! I couldn't go far into acting because the light skinned ones kept getting the best roles. And i thought i was beautiful!
    My manager told me to tone up a little. He said i am beautiful, but i won't "sell" if i am dark skinned. He told me to lighten up, he said i should lighten up three shades more. Let me tell you what it means, Father. You remember Ifeyinwa, you remember she used to be very dark before she left for Lagos, and when she came back, she had become "oyibo". That is what they told me
to do. I know what you are saying now, "tufiakwa"
     My best friend, Ifeoma, the one i told you about in the previous letters, she is no longer my best friend. She has lightened up. She now rides in big cars and lives in a mansion. But she now looks pitiful with veins like green worms all over her hands and legs, and she flaunts it with pride. Her face is as pink as that of a baby pig. She doesn't talk to me because i talked about the veins
on her body.
   Father, i didn't get a job in a big company here, they said i had the skills, but not the look. But Father, I am beautiful.
    One day, before Ifeoma stopped being friends with me, we went to the market with a friend. She is also light skinned like Ifeoma. The traders were calling out to us to buy their goods. They referred to Ifeoma and her friend as
"fine sisters" "beautiful customers" and they referred to me as "dudu". I was tempted. I wanted to lighten up, but then i imagined the look on your face when you see me. I also didnt wanna end up looking like Mama Ekenne's new born pigs and later start having green veins like worms all over my body.
    You are wondering now, why i haven't talked about Jeff, my boyfriend. Jeff used to say i am his queen, that he loved my black skin. He told me not to worry, that i am the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. I was happy. Sweet, handsome Jeff loved me and my dark skin. But on my birthday, Father, i caught Jeff with another woman, and she was light skinned. As fresh as a ripe
tomato. And i thought i was his queen.
    You must be very sad now, Father. That is why you should tell Olanna to stop dreaming about Lagos, because she is as dark as me.
    What is mother doing? Cooking black soup? Maybe if she hadn't fed us with black soup, maybe we would be light skinned as her. Maybe not.
    I put money in the envelope, Father. Pay Obinna for reading the letter to you. Tell him he is free to come to Lagos. He is a man, as long as he can hustle, he has no problem.