chapter 7

08:30 am

Kogi State.

As Eniiyi slammed the door closed she looked around her in disgust. Okay, it wasn't anything she had expected. The street directly in front of where the car was parked stretched untarred into the distance. The surrounding houses were of different state and quality, ranging from old, mud, small to new, plastered, big. Some were painted in colours which looked horrible to her. She wondered if she'd have to face this eyesore everyday for one month.

The closing of a door made her turn around. An ample woman who looked to be in her sixties came down the porch steps, a look of surprise on her face. Her short hair braided in shuku had streaks of gray here and there.

Daddy was the first to go forward to meet her. He went down prostrate on the floor in front of her, his palms and the tips of his shoes touching the ground, and Eniiyi pitied his light-blue T-shirt.

'Ẹ káàárọ̀ mà,' he said in greeting

The woman bent to touch his head. 'Káàárọ̀, Olúmìídé.'

Mommy also went to join, curtseying very low. 'Ẹ káàrọ̀ mà.'

'Káàrọ̀ ọmọọ̀mi, óyá dìde nílè.' She gestured for Daddy to stand up.

'Adekunbi,' Mommy called to her from the other side of the car where she was still sulking.

She trudged forward, reluctantly, suddenly shy to meet the woman she'd now guessed to be her grandmother.

'Why the sudden visit, you didn't even give me a call.'

'I called your number many times this morning but it wasn't going through,' Daddy explained.

'Network problems,' G.ma said. 'But all the same it's a pleasant surprise.' Her eyes were trained on the girl walking slowly towards her. 'Olumide, is that not Eniiyi?'

'You're right, ma,' Eartha said, frowning at the girl to walk faster.

'Chai, ọmọ òkìn pẹ́ dàgbà o. She's grown since the last time I saw her, o.'

Eniiyi mentally rolled her eyes as she reached them, what had she expected?

'Good morning, ma,' she said, going down onto her knees as was customary to greet an elder.

'Good morning, Eniiyi, Enieye. Ṣé daada la bayín o?' She was brought to a hug. Eniiyi found her face in an ample bosom and she tried not to squirm, she wouldn't mind death by asphyxiation, anyways, it'd take her away from all these horrors. 

'Ṣé kògbọ́ Yorùbá ni?' Her grandmother wanted to know.

'Em . . . ógbọ́, but, kò kọ̀ lè sọ́ ni,' Daddy explained.

Grandma shook her head in pity and pulled the girl back to examine her more. 'Ogbọ́, you can't speak Yoruba?'

Eniiyi sputtered, not sure what the woman wanted to hear. She gently extricated herself from the older woman without seeming rude.

'It's okay, Mother,' Eartha said and winked at her daughter who glared back and stomped back to the car.

'Ṣé kò sí?' Olumide's mother wanted to know why they'd come visiting.

Daddy and Mommy started to explain to her but Eniiyi wasn't listening. She was blind with anger as she hauled the heavy holdall out and then made for the boot. So she was really going to stay, they were actually going to leave her behind in this middle-of-nowhere she didn't know the name. Though she had known coming here was inevitable, she'd rather hoped for a miracle that'd interrupt it. But now here she was, doomed like a rabbit in a corner. She was pained to tears but didn't cry, instead, she cussed at her parents work inside. The work that never allowed them to have time for her, the  work that mandated it be put first before her, same work that now required her to be in this place for a whole month now.

She gnashed her teeth and tried to haul out the travel bag but it barely moved from its position.

Mide came by her side and lifted it out with one hand. He pat her head and helped her to drag it unto the porch. She carried the holdall after him. Grandma was standing to one side with worry etched on her forehead, probably from what she'd been told. 

Her parents were now going towards the car, Grandma trailing after them with prayers in Yoruba, for their safe journey. Probably — she didn't understand a thing of what she was saying.

A few busybodies were now hanging around, she noticed, mostly scruffy looking children and a few adults. This infuriated her the more. Was she actually going to live with these kind of people everyday?

'Adekunbi, won't you come say goodbye to Mommy and Daddy?' Eartha gestured with her hands with a smile on her face, as if what they were doing was perfectly okay with her.

This further infuriated the young girl. She planted her fists on her waist and glared at them both. 'No! Leave and forget me here, is that not what you're so good at? I hate the two of you. I don't know why you didn't just give me up for adoption when you knew you wouldn't have time to actually take care of a child. I hate you over and over and I hope to never see you again! You'll see, you're going to come back and regret ever leaving me here!'

With that she turned on her heels, not bothering to see the effects of her blind anger on her parents and dragged her luggage inside.

'God, that's very rude! Eniiyi come back here this instant and apologize to your parents!' G.ma shouted after her but she made no indication of hearing as she slammed the door shut.

She balled and unballed her fists trying to calm herself down. Taking a look around she realized she was in a lounge room. The furniture comprised of three cream sofas, a long black settee, and, two chocolate-brown loveseats forming a crude semi-square around a round, wooden coffee table which had a huge radio sitting on it. A small plasma TV was hung on the wall on the open side of the square. The floor was tiled flat and the walls painted a garish colour — yellow. Eniiyi shuddered at this.

She made for a seat just in time to hear her Mommy's car honk. There was a wide window to the side, above a loveseat, she climbed unto the chair loveseat and pulled aside the curtains in time to see their car disappear into the distance. She slid back unto the chair and palmed her face.

There was really no way she was going back now. She sighed, already missing her tablet, it was just her luck that she had workaholics for parents. Despite all the things she'd said to them before they left she still kind of hoped they'd turn back and come for her. But that, Eniiyi thought, was as possible as a vampire going sunbathing.

'No shoes on the sofa!'

She jerked her head up, surprised.

The woman who was her grandmother was standing arms akimbo with a slight frown on her face. 

'Huh . . .' Eniiyi hadn't heard what she said.

'I said,' said Grandma, 'no shoes on the sofa. In fact, no shoes in the house, you take them off outside.'

Eniiyi stretched out her legs from beneath her to the ground, slightly embarrassed.

'Help her to drag in her luggage, Lastborn,' Grandma said.

It was at that moment she noticed that a light-skin boy who looked about her age was standing timorously beside her grandmother, his body slightly obstructed by G.ma's.

In spite of her situation Eniiyi couldn't control the laughter that came bubbling out of her. It was this laughter that lighted up from her core and slowly made it's way up till it extinguished itself out. And why wouldn't she laugh, really, what could've come over a parent to name their own child Lastborn. Maybe this doomed 'holiday' wouldn't be so doomed after all.

Or maybe it was a nickname, the thought crept through the laughter into her mind. She quit laughing immediately.

Her audience were staring at her, wearing the confused look of child who wasn't sure if the penguin just talked to him or not.

Eniiyi coughed in mortification wishing the ground would have mercy on her and open up to swallow her whole.

'This is your cousin, Lastborn.' Grandma gently pushed the embarrassed boy forward.