MASIRI
“Do you know how many atulus you will still meet?”
When she was 12 years old, Masiri once looked her mother in the face and told her that she hated Papa.
What came next was a sharp slap that stung for days , a rain of curses, and an instruction to “go and wash the plates”.
As she rinsed off each plate and put them back in the platter, the hatred built like little bricks on a stone wall until she could no longer associate it with the person she badly needed to; until the hatred transferred all the way to someone else…
a booming laugh interrupted her thoughts when Arinze, her elder brother burst into the kitchen.
He was bent over his stomach in deep laughter and Masiri glowered at him.
“Imecha go?” Have you finished?
He laughed once more and then turned to her.
“What amosu entered you this afternoon when you told mama that nonsense?”
She only hissed and kept on washing. Suddenly, Arinze’s voice took a serious tone, that tone he used only when talking about Papa.
“Did you think anything would change? You can’t blame mama for anything. It’s not her fault that the man is ekwensu”.
Masiri’s hand froze in mid-wash.
Can’t blame mama. Can’t blame mama…
A sharp sting appeared on her pinky finger. Masiri cried out as she realized that she had just cut herself. But Arinze was faster than she was. He rushed to her side, picked up the finger and washed the blood beneath the tap, all amidst mumblings of “stupid girl” and “foolish baby”.
For several moments, Masiri watched him in his element…the big brother who had spent all his childhood fussing over the flighty younger sister. Sometimes, she stared at him so much that she feared he would notice and stop her little pleasure. But even when he did notice, he never stopped her.
Right then and there, staring into his concerned eyes, she suddenly burst into tears.
Years later, when Masiri’s mind would take her back to the past; back to that kitchen sink, she would realize that moment in the kitchen hearing Arinze’s words had been the beginning of everything.
Papa was a very loud man.
As a newly promoted District Police Officer back then, he took joy in being loud and boastful.
Masiri especially hated Wednesdays. The days when he came home after catching another “big fish” on the highway road.
He would barge in with lots of money in his pockets followed by his pot-bellied officers. Before Masiri could even greet “nno”, they would fall on the sofas with a loud poof while Papa ordered Mama to bring this beer or that one. Like a schoolgirl, Anwuli would cheerfully sashay her wrappered buttocks to the kitchen. Those moments were probably one of the few moments Masiri ever saw her mother happy, but every time she did, the girl in her couldn’t help wondering…
Why was she only happy at those moments?
Unfortunately for Masiri, she didn’t get to leave the room on those days. Her father forced her to sit and endure the torture of listening to their broken igbo as they discussed what amount to give Oga or what settlement each of them could collect. Wednesdays were always torture. First of all, her favorite TV show was changed to Channels TV the very minute her dad snatched the remote from her hands….and then there was Officer Rasak.
Officer Rasak with his pig face, lewdy eyes and his awkward height. The way he always licked his lips as his eyes slowly slid down her flea gown. Masiri was not dumb. She knew what he wanted; and with a frantic heartbeat, she made sure to keep a 5 foot distance from him. When it got so unbearable, she reported straight at her mother.
A wiki yelled at her, pulled her ears and said: “Ewu. Do you know how many men like that atulu you will still meet in this life?. Just smile nice, drop his drink and look away”.
Arinze’s reply, however, was more instant—
Because of Officer Rasak, Masiri’s favorite outfit became jeans.