Who am I?
Soup plate with no spoon;
My name is Shibi o’nike, I am not from here.
The day the white garment man came to separate daadi and
maama started as any other. At 7:30 the morning sun was up bathing the backyard window
panes. Inside, the aroma of our groundnut soup was I born.
Maama, I saw from my other end couldn't bear any longer
I am passionate about that nation of our dreams and I intend
to campaign differently from the usual
way.'' was ringing from the rechargeable lantern supervising our room.
Eggy, yet woven, the edges of who i am...slips now and then.
Wait let me tell you what happened not too long ago after my birth.
Patting the meat on both laps and flashing a grin, Victoria
called out "Come, my dear, come and rest, you must be tired."
"I want to carry you, please naw."
"Haa! You wan break your leg?, I am 120kg o." I
hesitated in joke.
She stood up, took a few steps to a small soot-laden
aluminium pot, picked a stainless bowl and a big spoon on her right hand.
"I cook egusi, you go eat?."
"No...I don belle full." I answered and sat on a
dwarf stool feeling my soles against the rough concrete ground spaced patches
here and there.
I heaved as I wondered how in such a short time we have
closed the distance between us.
what must jostle positions with the sweetness on a Friday
night?something new and exciting, that pumps blood into the heart and perhaps
put little skips in steps, sending tingles down the spine, a good date or even several in one night. and
of a talk about romance, an outing that is never real in true sense of it
though it leaves same feel in the senses. about the same hour, i was rubbed in
circles, harder at the centre of those thighs whose succulence oozed mild heat
on a date palm - that edible sweet fruit - its other side mattereth not. in and
outwards, up and down are both as awesome as they were the moment i first came
to town.
“It's been so long since I heard
from you." Victoria picked hairstrands on my chest sending off bells in my
head. "I thought maybe you’d
fallen for the storm of faces that blew you to some faraway place."
"But I only went to Rehab bush there is no girl there
just me and my friend." I replied. "Remember I spent just last
night."
"You know I had to go."
a look of
hopelessness in her
eyes even in the dim room as she busied pulling my hands to the corner
where a raffia mat overlay lumps of rags as mattress.
"I miss you, i do not want to loose you, i do not have
another"
I noticed
a hopeless strain
in her voice
"My mother travelled, keep me company because I am
afraid alone here."
Way in unbelief and excitement, I shrieked.
My laugh was but a dry, humorless sound.
I straightened back
up at my seat made to increase the lamplight. She peeled my fingers off the
knob pinching my palms.
"Don't, I like the room this way."
Our eyes met, a somber expression crept into hers.
Doing my best to keep the bristle out of my voice as i made
to speak, i managed to blink away the snotty thought I did have rummaging.
"I am okay here and I am leaving soon."
Deep inside I was fighting the riptide of emotions that
threatened to sweep me under.
I said "just for ten minutes I'll stay and bye
bye".
"I never knew even men had it"
"The wori-wori syndrome."
"What is that? I thought only women gave their genes
out to be wrapped with threads of worry.
In the quiet depth of my earthly heart as my feet sat on the
earthy floor, that voice called
Toting extra caution.
So shave to redemption, more like a dream, a fishy scent
stuck my nostrils.
“Don’t you like what I’m doing?” she downed some breathe. “Let
me stop”.
My back laid fastened to the bed.
The room, as I peered at the ceiling came caving in haze. I
could only feel coldness behind my buttocks.
That perhaps collected all my senses
Now I remember who I am.
Shibi O'nike - Soup plate with no spoon;
My maama is calling me.
See you.
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