Sunday, May 12, 2013

Things We Do For Love - Three



This post is continued from part two here.

My feet sink into the lush red rug of Father’s study with every step I take. I am nervous, afraid even; and my gait is unsteady. Mother seldom asks to speak with me, but she has today; and I have no idea what we are to discuss. I do not like the formal manner of the summons and the suspense – and cannot wait to get this over with.

Unsure if she is here already, I hesitate after a few steps. And then I smell her. The soft, sweet fragrance of her perfume wafts through the air – and all I need to do is follow my nose. Now I see her. Stately as always, she is seated at Father’s antique reading table; bent over her worn copy of Dante’s The Divine Comedy.

The thick rug masks my footfalls, so I approach her silently from behind. I run my eyes over her full head of grey hair, desperate to find a black strand. Alas, there is none! I make a mental note to spend more time with Mother; she is aging fast. I let her read in silence for a while, then I clear my throat to call her attention.

“Fèyí, mo ti ní kí o yé ma se bí olóngbò! Stop sneaking up on me!”

 “Áà, mommy, rárá o. Mí ò fé disturb yín ni.”

“Disturb kíni. Sèbí èmi ni mo ní mo fé rí e. Óyá pèlé, sé oò tíì péjù níbí sá?”

“Rárá o. Mo sè wolé naà ni.”

“Feyi, we need to talk”, mother says, her face assuming a grave look as she switches from Yoruba to English.

My face drops instantly. My mother, a retired Justice of the Federal High Court, picks her words carefully; “we need to talk” is reserved for the most serious situations!

“Mommy, we’re talking already.”

“This is about Mofesola.”

I suddenly feel dizzy and need to seat. This cannot be good!

“This is five years since you both graduated from University, and Mofe still does not have a job. What is he doing? What is his problem? What are his plans for you? Àbí you are waiting to marry after we are dead?”

“Mommy, he’s trying…” I start to mumble before I am cut off.

“No he’s not! No! He is not! In the five years since you both left school, you have completed a Master’s degree and worked in two different companies. What has Mofe done? Start a business selling CDs and books? Is he going to send your children to school with the money from CDs and books? Why can’t he get a proper job like Jide and Tayo?”

“Mommy, Mofe is…”

“Feyi. Mofe is lazy. Three years ago when we last spoke about this, you said his business was growing. But he is yet to buy a car, move out of his parents’ house, or even open another outlet! Baby, you’re 27! You’re not growing any younger. You need to get married soon, and you need to have your babies now that you’re strong! I don’t know what you saw in Mofe o, but I don’t see it.”

“Mommy, it’s not…” I start to say, then burst into tears.

“Feyi. Go and think about it. But have it at the back of your mind that I and your father will not watch you marry a jobless man in our lifetime; and we will turn in our graves if you do it after our death. You are my only daughter, my last child, and you must not suffer. Olohun á jé kó yé e ò.”

*****

“Doctor, Doctor! The patient has not awakened, but she suddenly started crying now – apparently from within her sleep.”

“Hmmm… Great! That’s a step in the right direction. Let’s hope she’s now dreaming and will regain full consciousness soon.”

3 comments:

  1. Thanks for sharing!
    Nice blog!
    see also unec at the university of nigeria

    ReplyDelete
  2. Nice one koye looking forward to part 4 make it lenghty ~ Zino

    ReplyDelete
  3. Okay! I hope she'll be alright!

    ReplyDelete