Saturday, February 22, 2014
To Do List:
- Solve Sudoku puzzle
- Rest
- Study
Supplementary list
- OngaFood Tour
- Asanka Delight
- Edzieban
Dad took over all my chores that Saturday. He ordered me to stay in bed, did the laundry and hung it out to dry, dropped Sarfoa at her dance class, went to the market, picked Sarfoa up (they didn’t go to the zoo) and came home and cooked two stews for the week—chicken and mixed vegetable. He and Sarfoa tried some recipes they’d watched on TV and I think they had great fun because I heard them laugh every five minutes.
I’d thought Chidi would pass by our house Friday evening since I hadn’t been to school, but he didn’t. He didn’t show up on Saturday either. I wondered if he was still angry. I wondered if I’d lost my last friend in the world. I’d apologise on Monday if he picked us up. If he didn’t, I’d apologise when I met him in school.
When supper was ready—rice with some of the vegetable stew that Sarfoa and Dad had cooked—I joined them in the living room to watch all three of the cooking shows, and I can honestly say I didn’t enjoy the cooking shows, but what I did enjoy was spending time with Dad and Sarfoa. I enjoyed their company, just being there with them as they got excited over the various recipes, the garnish and presentation of the foods and the enthusiasm of the presenters and the guest tasters.
But best of all that night as I lay down to sleep, I realized that instead of the pain and hurt I’d carried with me for more than a year, there was a warmth that spread in my heart that made me feel thankful that I still had Sarfoa and Dad and if I was really lucky, maybe even Chidi.
Sunday, February 23, 2014
To Do List:
- Survive church
- Lunch
- Iron for school
- Study
- Who wants to be rich
- Study
I was up studying at 1:30 a.m. when my phone beeped. A text message from Chidi.
R u awake?
Yes. I texted back.
Am in front of ur gate.
I pulled on a pair of jeans under my nightie and a T-shirt over it and went downstairs. I ran back upstairs and gurgled with Kamaclox and brushed my hair. Chidi was waiting in his car. I slipped into the front seat beside him.
“I’m sorry I was mean to you on Thursday.”
He was quiet for a long time.
“I don’t know why I’m doing this,” he whispered almost to himself. I didn’t blame him. I didn’t know anyone who’d still want to be friends with me after the way I’d treated him on Thursday.
“Buckle up,” he finally said. I didn’t think twice. I did as he said and he drove us away.
“Are you abducting me?” I asked as I realized what I had done. It was one thing waking up at 4 a.m. to pick rubbish off the street but how could I explain to Dad going off alone with Chidi at 1:30 a.m.?
He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t use you for sika eduro.”
“I wasn’t thinking that.”
“You weren’t?”
“No.”
“Seriously?”
“Nope.”
He smiled. “Why? Has your opinion of Nigerians changed?”
I thought for a moment. “Yes because of two Nigerians.”
He laughed and parked in the empty lot beside the Cultural Centre. I followed him out of the car. He opened the back seat and took out a camera, which must have been the same size as my head, and a tripod. I followed him to the gate of the Cultural Centre where he stopped and chatted with the night security guard.
“I brought a friend this time,” he said to the guard.
“I can see that. She’s someone’s daughter o, be careful.”
“I will.”