Life happens in the present, each day a beautiful story.
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A day in the life of an Eastern Nigerian family.
For the mind that loves light
With a bit of color...
PART ONE
The Arrival
The sun was high and hot in the sky, chasing away the snowy clouds in the vast blue. Today, the sun shines with a vengeance on Ajuwa town as if they refused to pay the earth its rent. Ajuwa town is a very small town in the eastern part of Nigeria, known as the little Nnewi. Nnewi, itself, was a neighbouring metropolitan city known for its fast paced development, housing most of the richest people in the eastern part of the country. Ajuwa town was home to few rich people and few struggling families, making a sharp contrast like black on white. It, however, lacked the very common people, as it was with the rest of the towns of the state, hence its nickname: little Nnewi.
Nevertheless, there was nothing much interesting happening at Ajuwa town today, except you counted the return of Ifeanyi Okoronkwo from Lagos state, the country's economic capital, to his father's house in Ajuwa close to the town's outskirt. What made Ifeanyi's return interesting was that though he had been away from home a year, he would have returned home much earlier had he not been stuck in Lagos since the beginning of the corona virus pandemic in the country three months ago leading to the ban on interstate travel. Now that he was home, he would meet his younger and only sister, Ifeyinwa, who had been away at the Madonna University of Nigeria for a year and came back home a week before the pandemic began for holidays.
Another thing that made Ifeanyi's return interesting was that he was Mr and Mrs. Okoronkwo's only male child. In the eastern part of Nigeria, being the first and only male child was a pretty big deal. This explained the mighty aromatic meal Mrs. Judith Okoronkwo, popularly called Mama Ify, made, with minimal assistance from Ifeyinwa, in anticipation of her boy's return.
Mr. Prosper Okoronkwo, on the other hand, was rather in a lighter mood than usual and had bought a crate of star beer, which was resting in the belly of the fridge. He too was quite excited for his son's return, for over one year long absence from home. Though, excitement for Mr. Okoronkwo meant a small positive shift in overall quietness and brooding.
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Ifeyinwa didn't know whether to be excited or be nauseous. Perhaps, her brother had changed much since they last saw each other over a year ago. Growing up with a much older brother had not been very easy on her. Ifeanyi had a very good sense of humor during his younger days but soon after he gained admission into the state's university, he took on a little of Papa's gloomy attitude, cracking jokes only once in a while. It only got worse after his university education before he moved to Lagos, as chasing money seemed to be the only thing he now cared about.
Mama Ify was literally hanging off the hinges of the big black gate of their one plot land compound when Ifeanyi came in with his usual large travelling bag hung across his shoulders. Mama Ify hugged her son and Ifeyinwa couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. However, when Ifeanyi smiled at her, she let go of her inhibitions and went to hug her brother. Ifeanyi had a really charming smile that seemed to relax his stony chiseled fair face. Many eastern ladies would consider him very handsome indeed, if not rugged.
While the women dragged for his luggage, Ifeanyi made his way through the compound's vegetation to the bungalow house. Everything remained quite the same, Ifeanyi noted: the large expanse of the compound with a mango tree close to the fence near a section where mama did her gardening, the soil ground, the pot of flowers arranged in a runway welcoming fashion, Papa's old Toyota car parked at a corner, the graying roof and the brown painted walls and big windows. Home felt nice but Ifeanyi knew it would only be a matter of weeks before it started feeling claustrophobic and in a way, limiting. As much as he loved the calm of Ajuwa town, he much preferred the hustle and bustle of Lagos.
His father, Papa as was fondly called by Ifeanyi and his sister, was seated on their biggest cushion, waiting for him in the living room. "Papa, well done o!" He greeted. Papa looked at him for a second before replying, "Welcome my boy. How was your journey?" Papa looked more or less the same as he had been when Ifeanyi had left and with that he knew mama had been taking good care of him. "We thank God. It was smooth. Speaking of smooth, you are looking too young for an old man, Papa." Papa laughed and Ifeanyi smiled, happy he could still make his old man crack up. "You have come again, this boy! Hope you have washed your hands or something, so that you will not bring corona for us." It was Ifeanyi's turn to laugh as he said, "Papa, forget all those things! It is a scam. But I did use a sanitizer on my way home. I will have to take my bath now and join you later."
"Good, good. There is beer in the fridge. Your mother prepared Ofe Nsala (white soup). If I were you I would hurry and enjoy all this treatment while it lasts." To this, Ifeanyi smiled. He did love Ofe Nsala. Mama and Ifeyinwa had finally carried the luggage inside the house.
"I am taking the bread o!" Ifeyinwa was arguing, her small voice carrying into the living room. "Tah! Are you his mother?" Mama retorted.
"Calm down! There is enough there for everyone." Ifeanyi said laughingly as he made his way into the large passage to his room, adjacent to his sister's room.
Nothing had changed much, in his room, from his last visit home, apart from a new flower spotted bed sheet and curtains. If not for the change of sheets and curtain which added a nice new dreamy glow to the room, Ifeanyi felt he only left home yesterday. He picked up his bag dropped by Ifeyinwa who came into the room while he had been admiring the cream colored curtains, relishing in the way it fitted in with his sky blue painted room. "Thank you," he said politely to her, unzipping his bag and emptying its contents on the bed. He handed over a large pack of sliced bread and a big bottle of wine to his sister whose big brown eyes gleamed with glee. Ifeanyi could not help but grin as he said, "That one is for Papa. We will go shopping tomorrow; me, you and mama." Ifeyinwa jumped with excitement, still having grip of the bread and wine. She started to head out but turned back to say, "By the way, that curtain was my idea. Mama doesn't understand colors at all." Ifeanyi smiled. It was good to be home, for now. He knew that a day or two after his welcoming, he would spend the remaining part of his stay at home settling quarrels between mama and his sister, and maybe have a disagreement or two with Papa. For now, he was going to enjoy his welcoming as would any other sensible Nigerian child.
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A Table for Four
Mrs. Judith Okoronkwo had set the table with more care than usual. She remembered Ifeyinwa's admonitions some days ago about treating the male child with more preference than the female child, and thought it was utter rubbish, feminism or whatever she called it. It was white people rubbish. Children of nowadays failed to understand the importance of tradition or the African system. After a few years in school, they came back home condemning the very system that provided them education. Judith knew she loved her children equally. She would give the same welcome to Ifeyinwa if she had been away for a year. Any other preferential treatment Ifeanyi had gotten or will get is because he deserves it, as he was always a source of her laughter or a solace to her when there was trouble at home.
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Ifeyinwa returned to the dining table with a big loaf of bread and a bottle of wine. Mama smiled. Ifeyinwa couldn't wait to go to Lagos and start a life of her own. Her mother told her to focus on finding a very good husband but that was out of the deal for her. Ifeyinwa believed that she should chase her dream of becoming a successful business woman and a worthy husband would chase for her.
Ifeyinwa hated the life mama chose, as well as the life of many Ibo women around her. It seemed family was the only goal they had in their plate; it wasn't as if they did a very wonderful job of it after all. Ifeyinwa wanted more. She wanted to be a big and successful career woman. She wanted to travel the world and meet new people, not cater two-four-seven for a family, tend to a garden and sell fruits at the town market on weekends like her mother.
Ifeyinwa could remember the argument she had with mama few days ago. It had started out as a honest discussion on values. Then it became personal and she had asked mama why she didn't aim for more than being ���Mrs. Okoronkwo' and a fruit seller. Mama had given the excuse of not going to the university like her and not having a more supportive parent. This was something Ifeyinwa could not understand. She believed that when someone wanted something hard enough, life had a way of making it happen. Just like Ifeyinwa believed it had done with her little bead-making business despite Papa's refusal to sponsor or support it. Now, she could feed herself pretty well in school without allowances from home. Not only that, the business seemed to be growing monthly, even with the ups and downs, and even if it quite affected her studies.
The discussion between her and mama had blown into a huge disagreement when mama had insinuated that Ifeyinwa was referring to her as a failure. Mama had said that even though she didn't have a grand vision like Ifeyinwa, she was very happy with her life as a respectable wife of a respectable man, a gardener as well as a fruit seller, and not to mention a mother of two very healthy kids, one of whom decided to become an insensible and ungrateful brat. It went downhill from there, Papa had to interfere and ground Ifeyinwa for some days for upsetting her mother so. Ifeyinwa, however, still held on her ground that she was right. To her, even though she was not much but she was a testimony of what a tenacious twenty-first century lady could be.
Ever since the sour disagreement, there had been a tensed friction between her and mama. The tension was so much it took the arrival of Ifeanyi to ease things down. Ifeyinwa knew it was only matter of time before mama reported her to him and for sure he would take mama's side and then the whole family would be against her.
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Mr. Prosper Okoronkwo made his way to the dining room as the late breakfast had been served. It was past twelve noon and his wife, Mama Ify, had insisted on everyone waiting for Ifeanyi to return so that they could have breakfast, or whatever one would call this meal, together as a family. Prosper didn't want to argue. Despite the muscular man he was, he didn't have energy for that, especially when things were still very touchy between his wife and his daughter. The average Ibo man would be stricter, more commanding or at least have more control over his family but Prosper prided himself on not being average. He was an educated man and retired public servant, and for all of that, he knew that it was best to be silent and consenting to his wife on certain issues, especially matters such as the logistics of his meals in a case like this. He would rather save himself from some disagreement and sulkiness or attitude when he was alone with his wife in the room.
Too many of Prosper's friends teased him continually about not being a 'Champion man' because of his levity and vulnerability to matters regarding his wife. In his defense, he would always say, "Did my wife tell you that I am not a 'champion man'? Or is it until you watch our performance in the bedroom that you will be convinced? My wife truly respects me and that's all I care about." The teasing from his friends usually died down afterwards.
When the entire members of Prosper's small nuclear family were seated round the small square-shaped oak wood dining table, a table for four, covered with a blue and white spotted table cloth, Ifeyinwa uncorked the bottle of wine and served with the rarely used wine glasses at the center of the table just beside the ceramic bowls of the aromatic meal.
Prosper was about to dig into his bowl of mouthwatering dish, when Ifeyinwa stopped him. "Haba, Papa! Let's first bless the food!" He gave a non-committal grunt that earned him a stern look from his wife and a mischievous smile from his son. The truth of the matter was, Prosper didn't consider himself a religious man any longer since he had found out few years ago that his most beloved and reverenced pastor and mentor had been living a double life: Chastising and judging sin during church hours and during his spare time, sleeping with a number of women in the congregation; a good number of whom were married women seeking the 'fruit of the womb'. This was not including the 'good' pastor's dabbling into fake miracles and the use of occult powers, 'juju'. Prosper could only imagine the number of marriages in the church that dissolved after the 'good' pastor was caught. Caught, my behind! He thought. He had gotten it from a good source that the 'good' pastor had made a deal with the police to replace him with an innocent person, who would have most likely been roaming the streets hustling innocently, and now, the 'good' pastor had left the country to open a church in Zambia, under a new identity.
Prosper didn't hear much of the prayer but he was pretty sure Ifeyinwa had thrown in a not so subtle diss at her mother, his wife, based on their disagreement weeks ago.
"Looks like someone is planning to become a 'Pastor Mrs.' very soon." Ifeanyi joked after an exaggerated 'Amen'.
"For where? This one that nobody in this house has smelt church for so many years. Ask mama." Ifeyinwa replied dishing herself a healthy measure of garri (cassava cake) from the big bowl.
"Oh, so now I am back to 'mama'? Nonsense girl!" Mama Ify had responded with a hiss. It was quite amusing to watch two special women in his life disagree in such manner, Prosper admitted with a small smile.
"Hahan! I have been noticing the tension between you two, what happened again?" Ifeanyi asked scooping some soup with a mould of his garri expertly into his mouth. Prosper couldn't help but smile, especially when he remembered his friends' tease about him not being a 'champion man'. The fact that he could not even ensure proper table manners in his home was quite hilarious to him. But then, he noted that most Nigerian homes never really obeyed the rules of table manners, especially when it came to talking while eating. The dining room always acted as a family meeting place with refreshments.
"Your sister has all of a sudden decided to be the Mary Slessor of Nigerian feminism." He said watching the quiet steaming face of his wife. Ifeanyi laughed and had to take a glass of water before he choked on his garri.
"Some people will not appreciate that someone is trying to make the country a better place," came Ifeyinwa's haughty reply as she poured herself more wine. "Finish the wine o, madam feminism!" Mama Ify chided and Ifeyinwa sulkily returned some wine from her glass into her mother's.
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Ifeanyi loved this part of home, the bickering, almost more than anything else. He had really missed this. He had missed home.
"I don't know why you decided to resemble me in such a bad manner. Trying to fix Nigeria…" Papa scoffed, also pouring himself some more wine. "Papa, are you saying that you have tried to fix Nigeria before or that Nigeria cannot be fixed?" Ifeyinwa questioned in her usual academic inquisitive manner.
"It is something that was once whole before that can be broken, and it is something that is broken that can be fixed. Mention one time Nigeria was whole?" No one could reply, so Papa continued.
"Even before colonialism, our tribes could not as much relate with one another. And yes, I once thought I could fix the country alongside many others. Did I tell you that I was one time, back in my university days, the student union president?"
"Yes Papa, we have heard that about a million and one times." Ifeanyi drawled exaggeratedly and Mama Ify and Ifeyinwa giggled. Papa gave his usual non-committal grunt.
"Well then, only your mother knows that I was nearly expelled from the university back then because I was an activist for equality and a better country. The one that broke the camel's back was the time I led a protest against the university management and the state government for the unjust increment in the university tuition fees."
"Oh really? So what happened? Ifeyinwa asked, engrossed in Papa's tale of his youthful exploits.
"The protest was one so loud that the state government as well as the university management felt so threatened that they started buying out key members of the protest. I remember when Kalu, my general secretary back then, told me he had been given two thousand naira_ mind you, that was when the Naira still had value_ to stop the protest and convince me to stop all riots. I wouldn't agree until I got two letters from my vice chancellor. One was a letter of expulsion and the other, a letter telling me I could avoid the expulsion_ I was at my final year then_ and get three thousand naira as well as a secure job in the government after graduation… It was a terrible dilemma."
"They knew you would win the protest! Which did you go for?" Ifeyinwa asked as if the answer was not already glaring. Papa was a graduate as well as a retired civil servant.
Papa gave a hearty laugh, "I am many things but a stupid man, my dear. What did you think? Even if I had won the protest, I would have lost my education or would have joined the rest of struggling unemployed graduates out there. Although I did have a very valid reason for accepting the bribe but then, nothing justifies corruption. In a way, we are all part of it."
"What of all those people who put their faith in you, Papa? And maybe, things could have gotten better after the protest… By the way, what reason could be valid for betraying your comrades?" Ifeyinwa was annoyed but still held such hope for Papa's redemption that Ifeanyi could not help but reflect on an old discussion he had with Papa many years ago. Papa had said that the justice system of the world was quite twisted. When people wanted you to be right by all means, they would try to justify your actions with the motive behind it, as if it would in any way make the action go away. And when people wanted you to be guilty, no matter the righteousness of the motive behind the action, you were guilty.
"My comrades were already being bought off; the protest was a failure already. I took the money then because my sister, your aunty Felicia, was requiring a huge sum of money for an operation and my parents had spent all they had to send me to the university. Imagine me coming home expelled because I decided to be a freedom fighter instead of a gainfully employed graduate," Papa laughed at that, even though no one joined in. It was not a very cheerful memory. "Anyway, I did the only moral thing I could do after receiving my share of the national cake; I resigned from the student union and went into a little isolation."
Ifeyinwa's voice was a little softer when she said, "At least you did something well and right, Papa." Ifeanyi smiled. The room was quite silent for a while, except for the sound of plates and glasses at use. Everyone focused on the remainder of their meal.
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"So, Ifeanyi, tell us, how is Lagos? How is business?��� Prosper asked, watching his son. Sometimes, he worried Ifeanyi might not be strong enough to handle business in Lagos because he took so much after his mother's softness. Ifeyinwa, on the other hand was quite like him; radical and enterprising as he had been in his younger days. Prosper really hoped that his son could make it big, so that he could finally assist him or even take over the family costs. On one hand were the ever inflating tuition fees of Ifeyinwa at the university, who still had four years to complete her program. On the other hand was the very awkward surprise he and his wife had found out some months ago but had been hesitant to let the children know. Again, his pension was not forthcoming, and the proceeds from his vehicle spare-parts shops at Onitsha had been the only thing he was dependent on to cover family costs. A big part of his profits at the vehicle spare-parts had been used in the treatment of his leg when he had an accident late last year on a motor bike at Onitsha. Not to mention the heavy recession brought by the unplanned pandemic.
"We thank God o. Business has been really slow with this corona thing. The company I am working with has refused to call me to resume work. Assuming inspection of power plants was something someone could do online, perhaps I would still be sure of my job. My shop at Ikeja is still there anyway, although the police won't let us rest with their bribe and trouble. My partner, Obinna, is starting to be look untrustworthy to me these days because the accounts don't add up as usual."
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"Ehya! My son, you are really going through a lot." Judith said with a worried sigh, her heart aching for her son in his silent struggles
"Don't baby him, my dear. It is normal these days. That is what is going on everywhere. Times are hard and everyone must adjust to it because with the way things are now, it will go on like that for a while and maybe even get worse," with that her husband turned to Ifeanyi, "Hopefully, they let you keep your job. Or you can start applying for another."
"Still… It is not easy for him." She wondered why her husband always had to be hard on their son, especially since his best friend's son, Mark, travelled to the United States of America and has since been sending dollars to his parents. It was true that Mark and Ifeanyi were age mates who schooled together in the same secondary school and were both from humble homes but Mark had always proven to be more intelligent or lucky, in her own opinion, than Ifeanyi. It was not Ifeanyi's fault that he had an extra year in the university and was still able to graduate with a second class lower. Perhaps, if his father, her husband had been more supportive and allowed him to read Arts instead of Economics, as he had wanted to, he might have done better. Her husband, Prosper, had his flaws as a father despite that he was a good husband to her. But Judith would rather blame her husband's friends who pressured him to be more like them; men whom their wives feared; some of whom their wives were cheating on.
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"What of Chichi? Are both of you still together?" This was from Ifeyinwa. Ifeanyi rested his back to the dining chair having finished his meal. "I beg, leave that thing. Someone that is not serious".
"Don't refer to women as 'things'. We are not objects, so that you just use us and toss aside when you are bored." Ifeyinwa was indignant.
"Wow! You really have a lot of energy to waste on this feminism thing," Ifeanyi laughed.
"Don't mind her; following those crazy white women with their crazy ideas. They will be trying to brainwash our girls. All of them have lost respect for their traditional values. Crazy white women… They chose their career and ambition over family and when they start to feel miserable they want to take our girls with them," Mama was already angry, standing up and packing up dishes to the kitchen.
"Haba, Mama! It's not that serious!" Ifeanyi said laughingly. Ifeyinwa was fuming.
Papa stood up from the chair heading back to the living room, "You better talk to your sister; she keeps upsetting your mother. It is a really… sensitive time for her."
"Haba. Ifeanyi, you see now? What did I do? Is it because I said you shouldn't refer to women as things, and that's why I'm upsetting her?"
"Come on Ify, you know there's more to it than that. What happened between both of you while I was away?" Ifeanyi's brow was furrowed, his face squeezed into seriousness. A younger Ifeyinwa would have cowered and confessed but this girl, now twenty years of age, had grown tougher than nails.
"I beg I beg! Brother, leave me o! I don't want to talk about it… At least, not now." She added for a bit of respect. That she could be very free with her brother did not mean she could disrespect him, especially in the Eastern Nigerian culture.
"No wahala (problem). Maybe you will, later in the evening when we take a stroll. Have you watched the latest Fast and Furious movie?" As much as Ifeyinwa could be cute when angry, Ifeanyi knew she could be as scary. And he also knew that the way to her heart was through movies.
Ifeyinwa, momentarily taken by the change of subject, squealed in excitement. "You have it?"
"Ah. You just wait till you see the movies I brought home for you!"
PART TWO
Hand in Hand
The sun went low, into hiding, in the sky, forgetting to take its heat along. Ifeyinwa realized her brother was not as tall as he once was, or perhaps she was taller now. But it was not just a matter of height; it was the aura around him. It was in the way his once very broad shoulder seemed to have adopted the shape of a big slope; the way his head was often looking downwards, and in the un-focus of his black eyes as if perpetually lost in thought. Although his face was still as handsome as ever, more fierce and chiseled than before, it no longer held the air of vain youth even though he was barely twenty seven. Ifeyinwa noticed all this as they walked side by side on the tarred scanty streets of Ajuwa town. Once in a while, a car would drive past but more often than not, motor-bikes drove past, most making unnecessary hoots with their horns. The houses on the street side stood side by side like siblings measuring heights, and for every three bungalow, there was an 'elder brother' storey building followed by a small mansion. Ifeyinwa thought that maybe she would have loved to settle in Ajuwa town after her tertiary education if she happened to be living in one of those big houses but then, with Ajuwa town came everything she stood against: the subjugation and victimization of women, idolizing of wealth and all the evils that came with dogmatic religions.
It was a while before Ifeanyi had asked again about her quarrel with mama. It took a second but Ifeyinwa later confided in her brother that she had indeed confronted mama about the way Papa shut down some of her ideas simply because there were too grand or in Papa's words, "unrealistic", and how mama always seemed to easily let go of her ideas and will, just to satisfy Papa. True, Papa never raised a hand against mama but he never supported her or anyone one of them in their grand ideas.
"… I mean, you are good example!" She was saying, "I remember how good you were at arts and music and Papa refused to let you study your course of choice simply because he wanted a business man as a son, just like his friends". To that, Ifeanyi just 'hmm-ed' and continued walking, listening with his eyes unfocused. And Ifeyinwa continued to explain how mama had been crying that she was making the best of what life had given her and Ifeyinwa was being very insensitive to judge her.
"I don't understand this country, continent and our traditions anymore!" She continued, "It is a cancer! The female child is subjected to so much subjugation and subservience, it is very heartbreaking! Especially in this country, the male children are treated like they can do no wrong. They have more. They get more. Should we share importance based on gender? Why can't we females be allowed to choose our lives?" Sweat was breaking on Ifeyinwa's fair skin as she was feeling agitated despite the dim of the evening.
"And who says females can't choose? Do you females think that choices come without opposition? The world is not some Utopia, my dear." Ifeanyi's brows were furrowed in concentration as his voice sounded so thoughtful and far away.
"You know what I mean brother. It's not the same for women. Especially with the kind of system we have here: A very unfair and unjust system, one that always supports male dominance."
"And have you ever tried to find out why the system supports male dominance?"
"Well, it is just what it has always been. Women have always been treated as objects, things of pleasure, toys to be used and thrown away." Ifeyinwa had stopped walking, already too engrossed in the discussion to keep focus on the road. Ifeanyi had stopped as well. Ifeyinwa had missed this; having intellectual discussions with someone who would listen as much as contribute to the discussion.
"In a way you are right, but have you ever looked at it from a male's perspective? From birth, a male child, especially in Ibo land, is born with the responsibility of a man. Male children are expected to be strong and at a certain age be able to provide not just for him but for the family that raised him up and the family he is expected to create. The pressure of a male child is different from that of a female child, but it is there! Maybe, somewhere along the line, it turns us into money making and chasing machines, to unfeeling bastards and brutes but then what does that matter to the females? Tell me, Ify, would you marry a man who just wants to be housekeeper? A man who is unable to provide for you and your children? A man who other men around consider less of a man?"
"I know and I understand. Of course, I want a strong man by my side. But it still is no justification of how men objectify women. If we were given an equal ground, maybe we would prove to be more than men could be!" Ifeyinwa had continued walking as she felt the need for movement and Ifeanyi followed, his long legs keeping pace with hers.
"Do you want to know what I think is the truth?" He asked, dipping one of his swinging hands into his pocket.
"Yeah, sure,"
"I think the system has made it in a way that both gender cherish being objectified… mind you not in a negative way." Ifeyinwa stopped, confused, and Ifeanyi had to stop too.
"What do you mean?" She asked.
"Okay, look at it this way, the essence of culture and tradition is very much present in our music and movies, right?" At this Ifeyinwa nodded, still confused.
"Good, so have you not noticed that most of the music you listen and dance to is about the woman's body? Even female musicians sing about how sexy their body is or how a man dies for it. You would rarely see a man singing about his body like an object, he would rather sing about his possessions or vain accomplishment because that is what he is being objectified with."
"I don't understand what you are trying to say." Her voice did sound confused, so Ifeanyi continued.
"In our society, a woman is appreciated because of her body while a man is appreciated for his possession. This is the basis of objecting gender. A girl will try to run a man for his money; a man will try to run a woman for her body. On the negative part, females measure a man by the size of his pocket, in other words, create a pressure for him to acquire possession or become rich, as that is what a man is being measured with: his ability to provide. I tell you, because it is not our body doesn't make it a walk in the park for us. Things get really ugly in a man's world."
"Well, what about the woman?" Ifeyinwa had crossed her arms.
"On the negative aspect for women, their body becomes the object of measure for womanhood. That's why women will go to any length to look better than their fellows. That's why it is hard for a man to realize a woman is more than just her body because on a great scale that is what value is placed on by both genders for a woman."
"But it is not supposed to be so, brother! We are more than just our bodies! We have a brain too! We deserve respect…"
"My dear, everyone deserves respect. We men are more than our possessions too. The only difference is that we don't talk about our objectification because we are supposed to be men; strong and reliable, provider of the family daily bread, and when we don't, we are considered as failures. I believe that's why Papa doesn't allow Mama to do big business. Because deep down he believes that it is a man's responsibility to be the sole provider of the family as that is where his respect comes from."
"Well, that's rubbish! I say, rubbish! So he is scared mama might become bigger than him? That's utter rubbish. And mama just sits there complacent… I hate her for that!" Ifeyinwa's small voice had risen in anger.
"Mama was right, Ify. It is not her fault. With the little education she received and little support she got from family, she is actually doing pretty well. Compared to other families with broken homes, I'd say mama has done her best to make sure our family stays intact. Soon, you will want a family of your own and then you will realize that sacrifices must be made to build a good home." Ifeanyi's voice had gone quite quiet as if in deep sympathy with mama.
"But then must mama bear all the sacrifices? Can't Papa do too? Mama also has a life to live." Ifeyinwa's voice had reduced a little bit as she realized her hardness on mama was quite unjust.
"But look at the life she has led, is it not wonderful? Mind you, not everyone has dreams of conquering the world. Some people just want to have a lovely family and a nice garden." Ifeanyi held her hand now, and she finally softened.
"But I want more for her…" She said sulkily.
"Then it would be you forcing your choice on her, not Papa. Mama is happy, let her be, focus on your own dreams." They continued walking hand in hand.
"You are right; I'll apologize to her when we get home. But I still won't stand for the ill treatment of women in Nigeria." Ifeanyi laughed at this.
"Ify, our little feminist. I support you. Although I fear it is a lost cause if the fight is just for the women. Feminism should be a fight aiming at equal rights for both genders. But if one gender stays silent and won't even recognize that they are also victims, the other gender will turn the whole idea upside down. As you have noticed, Ify, the current model of feminism we have today is nothing but dumb gender war."
"Whatever you say, brother. Maybe you should join the fight." Ifeyinwa smiled.
"Me?" Ifeanyi scoffed, "Who has time? Me that I am still trying to hustle my way up? If you didn't notice, Papa was pretty disappointed in my business and work. Every day in Lagos, I will work so hard only to come home to start cooking and cleaning. Life is hard." Ifeanyi said with an exaggerated sigh. Ifeyinwa laughed.
"Then maybe you should stop fooling around with Chichi and get married." She said.
"Ah! You see! Who is subjugating women now?" Ifeanyi said and they both burst into a fit of laughter at the irony of it all.
"Shut up! Let's go home already, it's late." Ifeyinwa said with a smile on her pretty round face that brought back her childishness that Ifeanyi always enjoyed. Then she said truthfully, "I have missed you, big brother."
Ifeanyi also smiled in a way that made him look much younger, "I have missed you too."
They talked about Ifeyinwa's school and her friends on their way home. A young passerby watched the siblings passing by and because of the comical way they spoke to each other, their easy laughter and that they held hands, she felt a lurch in her heart and wished for a similar type of companionship, mistaking them for lovers.
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Room for More
The night seemed to have put everything to sleep: the heat, the daytime birds, the cars, the busy streets, even Mr. Prosper Okoronkwo and Ifeyinwa.
Mrs. Judith Okoronkwo and Ifeanyi sat at the verandah of their home on chairs made from hardened straws, receiving fresh air and staring into the starless night. This was a ritual in the Okoronkwo family between mother and son for many years whenever Ifeanyi was home, as it was the time when Mrs. Okoronkwo and Ifeanyi gossiped about everything, from the lifestyle of neighbors to market drama and even gist from within the house. Ifeanyi had always been his mother's confidante since he was a kid. Tonight was no different as Mrs. Okoronkwo told Ifeanyi all about what happened to the neighbors and marketers during his absence, although some of it he had heard from her through phone calls. But Lagos was tough and hearing gist was hard on a man who was tired from a day's work. But being in Ajuwa was different. The air was neater; the stress of the day went with the cool breeze and a bottle of chilled beer. Ifeanyi knew his father was letting the ladies of the house have him for today, being his arrival. Usually, he and his father would have had long talks in the evening over a bottle of beer about politics and business.
"…And that's how we later found out that Ada was not Mr. Harison's real daughter!" Mama was saying. His mother was such a gossip, he thought with a chuckle. Maybe he was too, but mostly, he just listened to humor her.
"Ew! Abomination!" He exclaimed, not really concerned. He barely knew his neighbors nor cared for their relationships. "Mama Ada has packed her things and moved to Abuja with her junior sister. Imagine the embarrassment. At least that one has money."
"That's very sad. I really pity the girl o" Ifeanyi said with a gulp of his drink.
"Pity who? That one? Someone that is busy following big men up and down in Lagos… what concerns that one? I beg, let us leave 'matter for Mattaias'" Ifeanyi laughed at this.
"Hehen, I guess you spoke to Ifeyinwa because she later came to apologize to me when she came back from your 'waka waka'. Thank you, my boy. Now, I can have some peace at home." Her exaggerated sigh was quite a mirror of Ifeanyi's usual theatrical sigh, if not funnier.
Ifeanyi laughed, "Don't mind her mama. You know she means well. She is very much like Papa and she doesn't even know it."
Mama laughed, "I know I must have over-reacted too. That brings me to something I have been hoping to tell you but your father would not allow me. Truly, it is not a matter that a phone call can carry."
Ifeanyi sat upright, his brows furrowing like it did whenever he was concentrated. "What is it mama?"
***********************************************************
Judith looked at Ifeanyi, her brows furrowed too in concentration, unknowingly showing the great resemblance with her son. She gauged his reaction to see that already, he was worried. This was why he was her favorite of her two children. He might look tough on the outside but he was like her; soft and caring. His father had tried very hard to turn him to the man he is; a strong and hard person. But then, like her aged father always say, 'no matter how hard beans gets, it cannot become stone'.
"Your father and I…" How would she say this, she thought, "Ifeanyi, my boy… I am pregnant."
There was silence, then the crash of a bottle on the floor and Ifeyinwa's voice from the corridor, "What?!"
About Author
Temmyphil is a writer and blogger with many short stories, poems and creative write-ups to his credit.
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