Toyosi and the rest of the family left me alone to fend for myself on Christmas day. Before she
left, she told me that I should not go near the food
she had prepared.
She didn’t feed me that morning, yet I
was the one who
helped them pack their plates to wash.
I entered the kitchen and opened the pot
when they had
left. I saw chicken parts drowning in the
aromatic stew.
It oozed into my nose and I almost
drooled inside the
pot. Only God knew how many chickens
were
slaughtered that day. I didn’t even know
they bought
life chicken, perhaps they bought already
prepared
ones.
I closed the pot back and adjourned to
the parlour.
Hunger came knocking hard at my
stomach around
12pm. I wondered why a Christmas day
should be
turned to Lent for me. My mother’s
memory came to my
head and I felt blood rushing to my
head.
When will my mother be back from the
prison? I
thought. If only I knew the prison where
she was, I
would have made effort to get there to
either get her
out or stay in there with her. I lay on the
floor, in the
parlour and wept. I rolled from side to
side as hunger
made my stomach its residence.
I reached for a notebook and began to
write a poem:
My Life Without You, Mother
Poem was not food, so I dropped it at
the second
stanza. All I needed right now was
something solid to
feed on. Childishly, I prayed that manna
would fall from
heaven to satisfy my hunger. What
manner of manna
would fall on a Christmas day? Maybe
chickens, I
thought. I remembered the bible story we
were taught
back then; the children of Israel were fed
with quails
from heaven. I wouldn’t want quail this
time around, but
chickens, I said as I shut my eyes.
Beggars have no
choice; even if it were vulture I saw
falling down, I
would eat them like that, alive or dead.
I opened my eyes, nothing had happened.
I began to
doubt if faith worked at all, because my
faith was just
too strong that moment. If actually faith
worked, then I
should have the things I asked for, I
thought.
Faith, they say, is dead without work, I
thought. Right
now I knew what to do. If I needed food
from heaven,
why can’t I put an empty plate on the
table and put
cutlery beside it? Perhaps, after saying a
short prayer, I
would meet the plate filled up with food.
Yes, that was
the work I needed to do.
Quickly, I rushed to the kitchen. I almost
slipped as I
ran. The tiled floor was too smooth to do
any hasty
movement upon. I regained my balance
and began to
make for the kitchen to get a plate.
Why go for a plate? Why not a pot? my
mind spoke to
me.
“Hmm,” I sounded within me. I would go
with such idea
so that I would be able to eat three
square meal. I
knew Toyosi and her family wouldn’t be
available until
late in the evening, so it had been better
for me to
request a potful of food so that I could
be ‘bellefilled’ I
thought like a child.
I took an empty pot and began to walk to
the parlour. I
was filled with faith. Something great
must happen
today, I thought. I placed the pot on the
table and shut
my eyes. Childishly, I placed my hands
on my face and
peeked at the pot from the spaces
between the digits
of my hands. I wanted to see the hand of
God putting in
the food.
I opened my eyes. Nothing was inside the
pot. I shut
my eyes again and changed the direction
of my prayers,
speaking in my mind:
Father in heaven, even if your hands are
too holy to
handle the laddle and the chicken, why
don’t you at least
send Angel Gabriel or Angel Michael to
bring the food?
Amen!”
My eyes flashed opened. Nothing was
there. I almost
wept. My faith was still strong within me,
so I shut my
eyes again:
“Why not send Holy Mary then? Send her
to bring me the
food because I am very hungry right now
and I will die
soon,” I signed with mu hands this time
around. I hope
God understood signed prayers.
I flashed my eyes out of their lids. Slowly
this time, I
began to lift the pot cover. I checked it
and nothing
was there. It was just as empty as it
was. I wept.
It was 2pm already, still there was no
food to eat. I
knew what to do; maybe I would just
escape the house
and locate my classteacher’s house. Yes,
that is what I
would do, I thought.
At a second thought, I jettisoned the
idea.
Toyosi is a witch; she would double-cross
me on the
road and kill me. I assured myself that
Toyosi would
definitely get hold of me on the road.
“That same way she spotted Moses and I
running in the
rain that day, she would spot me now,” I
signed and
resigned to fate.
I remembered the pot in the kitchen
again. Why can’t I
just make do with a chunk of meat alone
and forget
about the rice? I doubted if Toyosi would
know that I
took one out of the many pieces of meat
in the large
pot. They were so many in that pot, laps,
gizzards,
abdomen–just name it.
I made a quick move and headed for the
kitchen. I
wouldn’t care this time around. I didn’t
even care to
look for the big spoon. It had fallen
down from the top
of the pot but I didn’t notice it because I
didn’t hear the
sound of its tintinnabulum.
I put my hand right inside the pot and
held a fat chicken
lap, as fat as my lap. Time to feed my
belly with
something. I lifted the meat close to my
lips and then a
thought pierced through my heart like
needle:
Yield not to temptation
Says who? I thought. I made the second
move without
paying attention, then I felt the piercing
thought once
more. I dropped the meat right inside the
pot and began
to make for the parlour. Then I saw the
shadow of a
lady.
It was strange. I had to rush in to see if
anyone was
there. To my shock, I saw no one. I
looked at the
empty pot on the table and it was not
the way I left it.
The cover was partially opened.
I was awed by what I saw!
I wasn’t scared of feasting on the
content of the pot
since I had already prayed for it. A half
part of chicken
laid across a heap of rice. The stew was
inviting too. I
began to tear the meat apart, not
remembering to say a
word of thanks to God who had sent
Mary to deliver the
meal.
I was still feeding on the meal when a
woman entered,
this time not a shadow. She was a black
woman. I was
scared! I thought she was Toyosi.
Initially, before
seeing her skin, I thought she was Holy
Mary.
It beat my imagination when I saw who
she was; my
mother? No, my neighbour. The mother
of blind Biodun
and lame Laide!
My lips went apart for shock. She smiled
and gave me a
note:
I came in here when you were praying
over your empty
pot. Then I knew that I could be an
answer to your
prayers, so I turned in the remainder of
our Christmas
food. I fled when you came in and now I
am back.
Happy Christmas!”
To Be Continue
