The Beginning

It was a Saturday morning, life was going on as normal as it could in any typical African home. We had just finished the house chores and were relaxing over a cup of tea made by a mother and as expected, it was filled with love. We were waiting in anticipation of what my husband had in stock for our little kids. They had done exceptionally well in their academics in the just concluded second term and my husband, their dad had promised them a surprise outing which was to be today. Robin was my first issue and then followed Maria. They were for all I cared, my joy and happiness. As we relaxed, we watched a movie in our sitting room ,'Akeelah and The Bee', this should be the one thousandth time we were watching that movie, Maria had particularly taken a liking to it and she always made sure we watched the movie with her. Suddenly, a temporary power outage occured.

'ohhh, NEPA'.Shrilled Maria, obviously unpleased. I smiled.

'Mum, when is dad coming back?' Robin asked.

'Not sure dear,but he just texted me that he's almost done.'

'Then let's find something to keep us busy while we wait' Robin suggested

'Yes mum, tell us a story."

"Yes Mum, I agree." Robin agreed.

"Alright, I shall tell you the story of the sleeping beauty." I proposed. "No Mum, something new". maria requested.

"What about Rapunzel?" I suggested. She nodded negatively."Snow white" Robin refused. I tho

ught again.

" Beauty and the beast." Maria refused once more.

"Another barbie series." Robin strongly shook his head.

"Hmm," I thought really hard in order to quench their thirst.

"What about mbe na umunnunu?"

"no mum"

"Mbe na umuazu"

"mba" she refused

"why women don't have beards", I said sweetly

"no mum, no folktales." That was Robin, my first son, my pride, he looked just like his father, but his smile reminded me of his grandfather, my own late father.

" Come on mum, tell us something new", Robin proposed.

"yes mum,, he is totally right." Maria strangely supported. Normally it was one against the other but today seemed to have taken a different turn.

"Which other story do you want to hear?"

I queried after having gone out of ideas.

" how did you meet dad"? Robin asked with innocence glowing through his eyes. He was still an eight year old.

"That's a story for adults" I replied as I felt my face blush a slight red colour.

" Tell us something more about you or dad, something else other than your name and phone number, I don't even know mom's mom or mom's dad, am I right Robin?"Maria ranted on and on. Robin once again surprisingly nodded in affirmation.

My colleagues, friends and even I were always at a loss for words whenever Maria let go of her mouth. Her words were often too big for a five year old; but she was still naïve and innocent. She had a high IQ just like her dad and her beauty, from her grandma, her dad's mom and ohhh, her elegance from me (I guess).

"Mom, tell us how you got that scar?" Maria pleaded with a teary look in her eyes. Her eyes were one I could not always refuse a request, after all, they had always been asking, I thought it would be okay to tell them, at least they were now of age to know how life treated the young me,finally I gave in.

"Alright, I will tell you what you want to hear about your grandparents that is my own parents and also tell you how i got this scar". I agreed as I extended my right for them to see, there was a scar, one I could never forget, at least not easily. I was going to tell them why and how I got the scar to satisfy their incessant hunger for a new story.

"Alright mom, we're all ears". Maria voiced. Robin looked into my eyes. He was a good blend of an introvert and an extrovert, a touch of his dad and I, knowing when to and when not too talk. I could see he was listening attentively.

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' For about ten years of my life, I lived with my mum and dad, and life was basically okay. I had a great relationship with my parents, probably because I was an only child and therefore, I got all the love there was to get. I went to school daily like every other kid, and spent my evenings in the kitchen with my mum as a little assistant learning how to cook this and that. After supper, we watched the 8 PM news daily which dad never missed and that got me abreast with anything going on in politics and current affairs, I sometimes wondered why he was not a politician. We also had discussions where he told me about the Igbo tradition and all there was to know, he even told me folktales, at least he had credit for the little I knew...the tales of the cunning mbe na umuanumanu, the famous tale of Ojaadili, the stories of human beings and their relationship with spirits and those in the great beyond… however, I couldn't tap much into every bit of his knowledge because the creator sent for him at an odd hour. I had just aced my common entrance examination and gained admission into a prestigious secondary school, a boarding school. My life took a different turn even before I could realise it'. I paused and took a deep breath and then continued.

'I lost my parents in a fatal car accident at the tender age of eleven, shortly after my birthday. I was still a new student in the boarding school which I had recently gained admission into. After the morning assembly that faithful day, the principal had instructed me himself to come to his office with immediate allacrity; I was quiet perturbed since I had no previous business with him nor had I committed any offence. On getting to his office, my dad's brother, uncle Joshua was already in the office. I sensed that something was wrong. However, I couldn't figure out what it was in particular. The principal them instructed me to get a few of my daily needs and follow my uncle home. I felt depressed leaving school that very day, with a lump on my neck and a heavy heart with a curious mind I had to follow him home...'