So we submitted this in conjunction with the artist for a competition but we didn’t made it but I’m grateful for this piece!!!! And I decided to drop this here. . . there is gonna be plenty and plenty ones and no! Win or lose, our gift isn’t validated by that. . . and I’m sorry I’ve not been here for a while, my BIS has been off *hehehehe* and I’ve been tethering from my Dad *covers face*. . . byer!!!! Ama be back soon! Enjoy!
I was twelve when Mma died but I wasn’t too young to see her troubles.
Mma was very beautiful but she never liked to be called ‘Mama’. She always said, “I am too young for that name my daughter, I am still your father’s fine wine.” Maybe Mma was right but she wasn’t Papa’s fine wine for long. Papa had to marry Nkoli the baby machine.
Everyone remembers Nkoli; she was the one who had what Mma never had. She bore Papa four sons in three years without twins’ in-between. Then Papa became an ass. She sent Mma packing to the backyard on the excuse that Nkoli needed the space for herself and her sons.
The Ichies said Papa was a proper African man that he who bore the sons owns the house. I said Papa’s manhood was probably wrapped in Nkoli’s brassiere and it was her telling him what to do.
I couldn’t stomach the guilt that came from watching Mma cook and dine without Papa. Not once in five years did Papa knock Mma’s door. I felt guilty for her troubles. I wish I had come a man and not a woman but Mma wouldn’t hear it!
“Obiageli nwam, you are ten thousand a man than those boys of his. Don’t ever feel less. Be proud. You are a man in a woman.”
Mma always made me feel better. I only wished I could do the same but I couldn’t. Mma was sick but I never saw it early. I banged Papa’s door everyday but he wouldn’t open. He said Mma is probably being punished by the gods for eating all the men in her womb but it wasn’t the gods punishing Mma. Mma had cancer and it was too late! Too late for Papa to make amends.