The Service Chronicles 10: Ordinary Saturday

Yes he did call after a week and all that. I was a little bit happy. Okay I just lied, I did a full spilt and like ten somersaults. More lies. I was just happy.

 My darling mother woke me up by six am on a weekend! To make matters worse. She asked me to pick and cook beans. Since I am the epitome of the perfect child, I really am; I obeyed her.  

The perfect child doesn’t get in too much trouble just enough trouble that can be easily forgiven. The perfect child can sometimes be a kiss ass (don’t do it all the time), the prefect child is the joy of their parents. All of you black sheep should better change your ways. Since I am perfect child I fall into this very small bracket. So I woke up early and obliged my mother; I started picking the beans as she went for a run. 

If I were the opposite of a bad child I will just go back to bed and start picking the beans when my mother rings the bell and I know some of you would do that. No judgments from we perfect children, our message to you is change your ways. 

I picked the beans and cooked it with the huge interference of Mama Nkem. After that I served my grandmother who needed to take her meds and aunty who was on her way back to her house. The day was uncharacteristically boring. It was a Saturday and my life is full of boredom, I really don’t know what else I was expecting. 

While I was surfing the internet for nothing in particular I saw something interesting. It was the ad for a writing competition; I have never really being in one so I decided to write. Now the problem was picking what topic to write on, in my head it was either marital rape or the trails of widows. But as the Good Lord would have it I had an idea while I was arranging Onions in the store and my mother was reprimanding me (as usual) for something that is really not an issue but because I like to feel like a feminist sometimes it is an issue to me.  

My Uncle’s wife arrived at my house with her fifth child (all her children are below twelve) early in the morning, she had come to take care of my grandmother and honestly she did a good job of that. For crying out loud she made this dope as pepper soup. This baby is the only child that does not look like an Oyaghire and he is really cute (Oyaghires are really cute, have you seen me?). So while three of us were in the kitchen (Mama Nkem, Aunty Philo and I) I referred to my uncle’s wife as Aunty Philo and my mother gave me a two sentence lecture. 

“You should call her Mama Genesis (the name of her first child) and don’t say her name.”  First things first when you name your first child Genesis you are tempting God. He might just give you too many children.

Okay, back to the story. I know I know. We are in Africa and I should have respect for my elders by not calling them by their birth names. I get this, but why would Aunty Philo or Mama Nkem dump their original names because they birthed a bunch of children. Women who are childless nko? What will na happen to them. (You see this feminist nonsense has come up). So I wrote on that and my story got accepted.  I even wrote about this in my project. To view the story click here, like and comment so that I can win. I honestly promise to share the proceedings with you guys. 

I know we are all waiting to hear what happened with Boye. So when I was ready for bed; after I had had a shower, done all my slave work (my chores feels like slavery because I am admirably and incredibly lazy) for the day and was ready to dream of my upcoming wedding with the dark handsome ( I really like dark boys) stranger in my future. I decide to call Boye. Oh my! Did we talk… all those people saying i won’t marry him, don’t let me use Edo witchcraft on you. Yes! Before I forget there is something extra that is sexy about him. He speaks Hausa!!!!!! Bad belles may say big deal and I will say to you haters go and die. And I mean it. In the words of a great woman by name of Oyinkan Daramola “haters gonna hate and potatoes gonna potate”

(I really don’t understand that last part).

As we wrapped up our conversations he asked for a way to communicate with me via social media, for us to discuss our wedding plans and what we will name our children. *big smile*

Just as I as I was picking my wedding dress I heard the voice of no other person than my mother

“Young Lady wake up!!!”

Nkem Oyaghire