Twelfth:
The Third Day Of Christmas
“ Chike!”
“Chike oh!”
“Ike!”
The continous echoing of my name woke me up from my deep slumber, before I could open my eyes fully, I felt my door open wide, letting the cold harmattan breeze that I had managed to keep out come in.
“Mum is calling you oh, better wake up” my younger sister Cheta sang in my ear making me hiss out loud. The only reason Cheta would bother to come wake me up herself and not let mum do it was because mum must have sent her on an errand too big and she had cried wolf which meant I would have to step in.
“ somebody cannot rest in this house huh?” I murmured as I left the bed not bothering to arrange or pick up the bedsheets I had thrown out in a fit.
“Good morning dad” I greeted my dad who was multitasking, watching he news and reading a newspaper.
“Hmmm” he answered not looking up from the newspaper. I walked past him to the kitchen and made my way to the backyard where my mum and her cowives were.
“Good morning mum, good morning aunties” I greeted them hugging my mum and pecking her to spite my sister who was cutting a bucks of Onions, she rolled her eyes before continuing.
“You kwa goodnight, don’t you know it’s already afternoon nna?” My mum answered in the typical Nigerian mothers savageness making everyone laugh.
“He’s been sleeping, Obu otu okwesiri” that is how it supposed to be aunty Ifechukwu said which gained her an eye roll from Cheta, she dropped the knife immediately to say something.
“Biko keep your feminist co to yourself“ mum picked at her stopping Cheta from saying something.
“When you finally get married you and Darey can do the feminism thing in your house and kitchen” mum added then turned to me “Nna, please help us kill these ‘Three French hens’, your feminist sister in all her power and might cannot kill hens” she added still throwing shades at my sister who couldn’t help but laugh.
“Who told you mum that they are french hens?” I asked going close to the three big brown chickens.
“If they were Nigerian chickens, your sister would have killed them but since she cannot kill them it’s only right to assume they are outside her jurisdiction maka na it’s only here that she shows that she has power” mum answered reminding us of the way Cheta had reacted when one of our cousins from Paris had visited.
She had acted like she had forgotten her rules, she had even made him breakfast and served him in his room, allowed him to open the door for her and pay her own part of the bills when they had gone out, Cheta’s feminism in the mud.
“Aaah mummy “ I laughed with my aunties as I neared the first chicken and sliced its neck. I watched as it danced and struggled to live before it finally died, then I went to the next and repeated the process until all three chickens had been killed.
“Why are we killing the hens now?” I asked while washing off the blood from my hand and the knife, “we want to prepare aunty Joy’s favourite chicken sauce for her” aunty Ikedi replied filled with smiles.
She had been the one who had planned the welcome party for her best friend. The only connection we had with aunty Joy was through my aunt’s relationship with her but somehow everyone made it seem like we are related by blood and to add to the whole drama their house wasn’t so far from ours. Unlike my cousins, my sister and I had not grown up in the village, so, not only did we not know them but we also didn’t care. The only thing I cared for right now wasthe fact that I had met my ‘lady in red’ at the party and I was waiting patiently and sort of excitedly for Amaka to come to the house and tell me who she is.
“Chike!” my dad called from inside snapping me out of my thought.
“Enjoy” I told my mum before rushing inside to answer my dad
YourPenship
David Vera Sorochi
Edited: Judith Onwuzuligbo