A New Friend In A Familiar Place

Although I find the lively environment appealing, I'm struggling to understand the conversations around me since they're speaking in a deep Igbo dialect, which I'm not fluent in.

I'm starting to feel uneasy as several young children continue to stare at me. A boy and girl at another stall are sitting at a table, looking in my direction, smiling, and seemingly talking about me. I try to ignore it, but their gazes make me uncomfortable.

Just then, my grandma calls out to me with a wide smile,

"Ammy, you go chop this rice?" (Ammy, do you want to eat this rice?)

My eyes land on a transparent nylon bag containing something yellow. Could that be rice?

"Uhm..."

"Or ge rie ya nulo," (she will eat it at home) My mom Interrupts, already standing and wearing her bag.

She was previously sitting on a small stool, chatting with my grandma.

"Are we leaving now?" I ask.

"Yes," she replies, taking the nylon bag from my grandma and approaching me. "Let's go, dear, we're leaving now."

I take my bag and put it on, waving "bye" to my grandma before following my mom.

We leave the market and board an autorickshaw, heading to our destination. The area looks sparse and quiet, a far cry from the bustling village I remembered.

"Mom, where are we?" I ask.

"Your grandma's village," she replies.

I'm taken aback, this doesn't resemble the village I visited before. The roads are tarred, lined with large beautiful houses, and it's really quiet. What happened to the lively atmosphere I once knew?

My mom leads me along a street, past big houses, a few stores, and an old woman approaching us.

"Ah, ifi!" she exclaims.

"Nne Victor, ah ha!" (Victor's Mom, wow!) My mom rushes to embrace her. She seems overjoyed, I've never seen her this happy before.

The old woman's gaze falls on me, and I know what to do.

"Good afternoon, ma," I say, bowing slightly.

"Afternoon, nwamu, ah ha, e maranma nno," (afternoon my child, you're really beautiful) she responds, her words filling me with a sense of pride.

Although I've been told I'm pretty, I never thought much of it.

"Ngwanu welcome o," (you're welcome to this village) she says.

"Ah, mma dalu oo, ebe ki ne je?" (Thanks grandma, so where are you going?) My mom asks, and they begin chatting.

I wonder when she'll finish her conversation. I'm exhausted from standing and bored by their laughter and chatter. My legs ache, and I'm eager to move.

"Bye bye o," finally, my mom waves goodbye, and we continue walking.

She still wears a smile, clearly happy to be back home. But I'm perplexed, this place has changed beyond recognition.

We continue walking, and my heart races as two little girls rush towards me with open arms. And I'm not gonna lie, they look creepy.

One hugs my legs, while the other holds my hand.

"Achere or chika," (they think she's chika) I hear, and I look up to see three women and some children sitting in plastic chairs in front of a gate.

"Lekwenu, nwa Elizabeth!" (Oh my!, Elizabeth's daughter!) my mom exclaims.

"O mu o!" (It's me!) another woman responds, standing up and adjusting her wrapper.

"Ehhh, Kwara ki di," (wow, look at you) my mom says, and they exchange warm hugs.

As they chat, I notice more children staring at me, around seven of them, both boys and girls, seemingly my age.

I'm unsure what to do, feeling a bit overwhelmed. But I notice them smiling at me, and I wonder if I should smile back.

"Oyanu, Kai ga nime," (come on, let's go in) my mom finally says, finishing her conversation, and walks towards the gate behind them.

Is this Grandma's house? Since when did she have a gate? And what are all these people doing here?

I follow her, still feeling their gazes on me.

As we enter the compound, I'm taken aback by the familiarity of the place. Nothing has changed, the house, the painting, the structure, everything looks exactly the same.

There's even a red car parked outside and a tall tree with barely any branches.

I recognize every nook and cranny, even the house next to Grandma's. Maybe the people I saw earlier live in that house.

We approach the front door, which is locked, there's a burglary gate forming a wall from all three sides, making the entrance hall visible. Nothing has changed at all.

"Where is that girl?" I hear my mom muttering.

"Which girl?, What's going on?" I ask.

"Your Grandma said the girl who usually helps her is home, but the doors and gates are still locked."

"So what now?" I ask.

"I'll ask those people," she says, setting her bag on the car and walking back towards the gate.

That reminds me, "Mom, where's my phone?"

"It's in my bag," she replies without turning back.

I search her bag, finding it in a small space and pull it out, intending to call Nicole to let her know we've arrived.

I dial her number and put the call on speaker, a habit I have, even when alone.

"Hello," she answers.

"We're at Grandma's house," I say.

"That's great! How was the exam?"

"It was good, not bad."

"You'll get a high mark, right?"

"Yeah, by God's grace."

"Amen o."

"Tell Chika I said hi."

"No problem."

"Okay then, bye!"

"Bye!" she responds, and I end the call.

My phone's at 95%, and I wonder if there's usually electricity here to charge it, even if not to watch TV.

I notice my mom returning with a smile, I wonder if she went to ask about the girl or just chat with the people.

"So?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

"She went to make her hair."

"Okay," I respond, a bit disappointed.

My mom leans against the car, gazing at me. "Isn't it nice here?"

I chuckle, "Ow!"

"What's wrong?" she asks, concerned.

"I need to pee, my bladder is full."

"Just do it somewhere," she suggests.

"Where?"

"In my mouth," she jokes, opening her mouth wide. I play along, "Okay, open wider," and she laughs,

"Get out of here, jor!" She playfully yells at me, and I obey, walking to the front of the car before returning to her side.

Just then, we hear footsteps approaching. A girl, likely in her late teens, comes towards us.

"Ah, aunty, good afternoon," she greets my mom.

"Afternoon dear," my mom responds.

She hurries to unlock the door, and I can't help but stare at the girl, she's stunning, with yellow skin, braided hair, a black shirt, and blue jean shorts. She looks a bit older than me, and her beauty leaves me in awe.

As we enter the entrance hall, I follow the girl to the hall way. Nothing seems to have changed even inside, the living room is still the first door on the left.

I walk in, mesmerized by the familiar surroundings, while my mom heads straight to the backyard. The room is filled with the pungent smell of crayfish, and bags of them are piled in a corner.

I set my bag down on the couch and take in the sights.

The living room still exudes this timeless charm, featuring a high cream colored ceiling with fans hanging from it, black and white tiles, and red couches arranged in a neat circle around a glass table at the center of the living room.

I settle into the couch, phone in hand, wondering how I'll communicate with the girl since I'm not fluent in Igbo.

She's currently behind a curtain, where the dining room is at. What could she be doing there?

I quickly look away as I notice the curtain swinging open.

"Is there something you'd like?" I hear her ask in perfect English, and my eyes dart to the crayfish pile before turning back to her.

"No, I'm fine."

"Okay then," she smiles and walks towards the door, exiting the living room.

I make my way to the backyard, where I find my mom on a phone call and the girl preparing firewood.

It's surprising to see they still use traditional methods, not just the environment, but the way things are done, remains unchanged since my last visit at age 12.

I take a seat next to me, resting against the wall, and watch in awe as the girl skillfully breaks the wood. Her strength is impressive!

"Amanda, come take the rice your grandma said you should eat," my mom calls out.

"Uhm okay," I respond and head to collect it.

Returning to my seat, I can't help but sniff the food, it's Banga stew, a dish I love. However, it's lost its warmth, and I prefer it hot.

Although I still had doubts, I tear open the nylon bag and start eating. My facial expression can  tell I'm not really impressed with the food. It's not bad, but I'm not thrilled either.

I manage to consume all of it, then stand up and head back to the entrance hall, passing through the hallway.

I settle into a chair and start watching TikTok videos, noticing my mom walking out of the hallway to sit in a nearby chair, engrossed in her phone.

It's already 4 pm, and I'm getting tired of sitting still and watching videos, especially with the noise of the children playing next door.

Just as I'm about to lose interest, the girl steps out of the hallway and comes to sit next to me, phone in hand, seemingly unfazed by my activities.

However, I can't help but sneak glances at her phone, curious about what she's doing. It appears she's watching a movie, and I can't deny it, this girl is stunningly pretty.

I quickly turn to face my own phone, noticing as she's slowly turning her head to face me. Does she know I was watching?

"Do you want to watch this too?" she asks, her voice gentle.

"Uhm..."

"I don't mind," she quickly adds with a kind smile.

l'm still struck by her fluent English, devoid of any Igbo accent. I wonder if she's been living in the village for a while, like Chika did for six years, helping Grandma before returning home. Could she be a relative?

My gaze mistakenly shifts to my mom, who's watching me with an expectant look, as if urging me to respond.

"Uhm yeah," I respond, my gaze returning to hers.

She inches closer, resting her arm on the chair's armrest, so we can both see the screen.

I set my phone aside, pausing my TikTok video, and focus entirely on the movie she's watching. It looks really interesting and funny too! And come to think of it, am I actually making a new friend?

The thought sends a thrill through me as I settle in to watch the movie together.