Valentine

Home land 2

One day when papa had bumped into her in the attic, he made a brief survey of the place, not displaying any surprise as to how much his home contained.

He has told her to get out of there, that the thick smells there wasn't healthy, that didn't they make her sick, that her mother was no longer around to oversee things and that, goodness, Rosaleen, his wife didn't tell him how much she had stuffed in there.

Now still seated at the table for lunch, she glanced at papa again as he ate in-between hisses , her own lunch laying rancid before her.

She had tried to eat too, but it seemed her stomach was already filled with mixtures of damp air that didn't want to dissolve. She struck her fork noiselessly on her plate of really fat kidney beans and if it mistakenly picked a pea, she would dispose it off in her saucer of steamed ketchup. Then she'd return an empty fork to her mouth and leave it buried there for a long long time.

Papa now made her see Orwell every other day. Lots of medications, injections and checkups. She so hated them.

"Sugar", papa called.

Bolanle didn't look up, but she felt Ola did.

"I don't know how you and Ola would take this, but we'll be traveling back to our homeland as soon as my last shipping is delivered.

Bolanle heard her fork crinkling down the cold tiled crimson floor. She couldn't even tell appropriately how that happened.

Dad!, she wanted to scream. Everyone knew what papa meant whenever he said homeland. They were Nigerians.

She was unsure of what her father would have done if she went ahead to scream anyway - tell them it wasn't a suggestion, he wasn't asking for their opinion, that he just letting them know, so they'll set their minds to it.

Ola was giggling excitedly. "I wanna see Nigeria daddy...".

Bolanle wanted to reach out, and slap her younger sister's face.

"We love it here dad", Bolanle mumbled, her head low."We won't move".

She listened as papa dropped his fork and reach out for a serviette. He wiped his mouth.

"You mama has to be laid to rest in her homeland Sugar ". He turned to Ola. "Ola?"

Ola didn't stir.

"Ok, ok calm down girls...". papa said, obviously confused at how he would have put it without having to say 'mama'.

Bolanle had reclined to her chair, her eyelids batting in quick successions. Papa was having a tough time. How would he ever know how to raise kids when he spent most of his time at work. She wanted to imagine leaving London and all the memories of Mama for somewhere she barely knew. Mama was an orphan anyway so it didn't have to be a necessity - buring her in Nigeria. Didn't papa know?.

"We're not moving dad", Bolanle snapped out this time, her deep voice at it's peak.

Papa drew a short smirk across his face. "You are, Sugar". He picked a glass of water and sipped it gently. "You are".

Bola watched him drain his glass, peeking at her half the time.

As he stood to adjust his collar, still observing her keenly, Bolanle grabbed two chinaware off the table and flung them to the floor. A shattering noise.

Naomi turned from the sitting room, an aghast look on her face. Ola drew back to her father immediately, gasping.

Papa was indifferent and still, his sharp unwavering gaze at Bolanle.

Suddenly, he grimaced and frowned, pulling his hands out of his pockets.

"Naomi", he called, looking across his shoulders.

Bolanle has stormed away, to sit on the stairs.

Naomi scurried over to papa, leaving Sola on the couch corner .

He queried her on if Bolanle was talking her medications. Even as Naomi replied in the affirmative, papa just scowled and scowled at her raving at how important those medications were to Bolanle's health, and didn't she know that his Sugar's moods could become more destructive, that those drugs calmed her down... and more.

Bolanle paid no more attention to them, her mind wandering far, only aware of when her father began to phone the doctor.

The next few weeks that came by were the saddest for Bolanle. They didn't resume school with their peers, the attic was evacuated and papa promised them a new mom when they eventually got to Nigeria.

Nigeria.

Her name was Vivian. Bolanle didn't know her initials or her tribe, or her family, but she knew the day she showed up at the front door in her apartment in Ikoyi, that she was the new mom papa had promised them.

Bolanle noticed 'new mom' sprayed Cullen, her perfume too much. Still staring and standing at the door, Bolanle murmured a greeting to the lady, removed her hand from the door and went back to her new room upstairs.

Her new room smelt of paint. She thumped on her bed and covered her head with a pillow. She felt a tingly pain in her nose as she fought back her tears.

The lady looked nothing like mama; an artificial skin color, face long and front teeth jutted out, hair in unattractive long cornrows and lips flat and broad. Plus she wasn't so heighty

A week has gone since they arrived the country they were originated from. Mama had been buried and papa had traveled back just that morning, insisting that he had to answer an important summon, telling them that they had to remain in Nigeria till he came for them. That he was going to come for them.

He had assured Bolanle that there was going to be a new mom, and that they should act happy if they saw her.

Bolanle had sighted and cowered aside into a puerile pout. There was also a hired therapist would was paid to visit everyday and ensure that she kept taking her drugs.

Now she sat up on her cast bed and grabbed a huge teddy that say next to her. She used it to wipe the moisture off her face. Her vision was blurred as she opened her eyes. When they cleared, she moved a stool to the window and sat there.

Her room was large. Larger than the one in London to about three times more. Coolly, everything was in blue, her favorite color. Her wardrobe was filled with new clothes that weren't even her size. She would've told papa that she didn't like whatever it was they put in new clothes to make them smell awful.

On a mantelpiece were lotions and body oils and toiletries. Her drawers were stocked with readymade underwears. A dozen footwear sat , well arranged in a blue plastic shoe rack.. A large mirror with relief borders hung on the wall. Above it was a wall clock and above her headboard was a mural painting of the night sky, with moons and stars and shades of various colors as comets. There was also a bedside table and a lampshade on it. Under it was a a large trinket where she has put a lot of items she had brought from London; clothes, photos, jewelry, European money, hair brushes, oils from Mama's laboratory and other stuff she didn't remember she had put there .

From the window where she sat, outside looked void and humanless but decent. It was an estate and she could see various pine trees lined across each house and the roots overlapping endlessly. The empty street road was tarred and flanked with rosebushes.

Olabisi burst into the room with an excitement that made Bolanle sick in the stomach.

"Bola! Bolaaaa! It's our new mom. She got us some cake!"

The latter returned her gaze to the window in disappointment. Her window was still rattling to the noisy push Ola had given the door.

"Next time, you knock before you enter my room", Bolanle snapped in mellow fury, as if it was all that mattered.

Ola nodded slowly and made to leave but she returned as if remembering something, her vigour renewed.

"She said she wants to see you ", Ola said in that tingy, springy voice of hers.

She has seen me. Bolanle thought, placing her hands on the window sill and staring outside, as if something has caught her attention. When she turned to check if Ola had closed the door after her, she found her seated on her bed.

"New mom wants to see you. She is waiting downstairs".

Bolanle sighed and let her face lean against a shaft of the burglary proof.

"I don't want 'new mom' Ola, understand that".

Ola winced and shrugged confusedly, rubbing her hand on her head. She nodded.

After a while she said to Bolanle, "...but no one will take care of us and Shola". Her voice was croaky and sounded like she wanted to cry.

When she left, Bolanle went up to the full length mirror and looked at her ghostly self.

She was dada. The locks fell across her dark face and large glossy eyes underneath.Mama had said they would grow longer than it was now and she would have to trim them sometimes.Her lashes and brow hairs were full. She was just tall enough to be thirteen, those long skinny legs are hands, the disney pointed nose the little cute ears. Eyes smoky blue. She took after papa's looks.

She was tilting head head to a side. She had lost so much weight. She was surprised at the ghost she had become. It dawned on her that she hadn't really cried since Mama's death. To her, life was a nightmare she was going to wake up from when she eventually kissed the dust.

Aunty Vivian was a nice woman, at least in the beginning. She kept buying them gifts and telling them tortoise stories. She bathed Shola and made his meals, and carried him to the sit out to sing for him on the nights he wouldn't sleep. She got to know of Bolanle derailed mental health and avoided situations that would trigger her psyche. But she didn't stop buying her hair clips for her dishevelled dada, or fancy pinafores for her and Ola, or even taking them to Winnie the Pooh parties downtown.

Other times, they visited the Bar beach, Freedom Park, The Garden, Ikoyi, Ikeja City Mall and tasted the popular Ofada rice at Samantha's Bistro and Grill at Rumen's road.

One time, papa had called with webcam to know how they fared. Ola chattered endlessly about her new doll house and Bolanle didn't utter more than a greeting and that 'yes', she was taking her drugs and going steady with her therapist. Shola who was now crawling coo-ed and caa-ed and spluttered custard all over his face and Auntie Vivian wiped it off, smiling at their fatger and telling him that everyone was fine.

It was after a year that she left the kids one evening and didn't return till about a fortnight was gone.

When she eventually showed up, she was with a fragile and lean younger woman whom she introduced as her immediate younger sister.

At first, the kids were mad that she left them stranded and were confused at the new coarseness of her voice. Olabisi didn't waste time to brief her on the narky state of things since her absence; Shola 's diapers had finish, Bola had locked herself up in her room so she wouldn't see Dr. Kule, her therapist and that they had peanut butter for dinner last night and nothing for breakfast that morning.

Surprisingly, instead of acting concert, or asking why Shola was carelessly sprawled on the sette with clothe smeared with peanut butter, she informed them that they were moving.

"Where to?" Bolanle asked, turned from the TV she was busily watching.

"Ogi. Ogi Crescent in Gambari", auntie Vivian replied hastily in Yoruba.

"Why? Why are we moving?", Bolanle asked.

Her voice was shaky and she was beginning to tremble abnormally. Mr Kule had advised her to try taking deep breaths whenever it came. She felt her body ease as she inhaled and exhaled.

"... because...", auntie Vivian said after a brief pause which she creasedher face in strange impatience. "...your father hasn't sent any money and we have run out of funds".

Shola yawned and coughed slightly in his sleep. Ola rushed to hold him from falling off the sette.

"...so", auntie Vivian continued,"we have to sell this house to raise funds for your upkeep. Now hurry", she clapped them up.

"Pack your things let's leave. We already have a buyer".

"We won't go anywhere!", Bolanle raved at the top of her grouchy voice."...until we see papa"

"Shut up Bolanle", auntie Vivian ordered, gearing close to her.

"I won't shut up. Gold digger", Bolanle snapped back.

A sharp slap landed on her face., blinding her for some seconds. "Ingrate. Now go in there and get all your things".

Ola had taken cover behind her sister, trembling. When they didn't budge, auntie Vivian unleashed her fury and beat them up till their screams woke Shola up.

Auntie Vivian's said sister helped them hasten up the packing while she hushed their sobs in edgy Yoruba.