It is another FRIDAY night, Yippee! ‘Do I hear jubilation bells? I am done dancing off-tune to Pharrell’s “HAPPY” at Zumba class tonight and preparing to hang out with the kids, while a-toddler I know with a distinctive contagious laughter, will exercise her cuteness-power and bully us all into watching “Frozen” again for the 37th time in history!
Anyway, If you are reading this, you’re probably spending your Friday night indoor or on your way out! But definitely not captured and forced to watch Frozen with a bunch of excited kids matching up with the movie word-for-word. But! Alas, Friday night conversation continues with my short story on the power of attachment. Enjoy!
Terms of Endearment – Part One.
Omolara! Omolara! ‘Are you listening to me? What’s wrong with you?
Omolara is not even aware of her mother speaking to her. She is still excited and day dreaming. The news about her admission into a University couldn’t have come at a better time in her life. She’d just discovered some strange things about her step sister Yanju, frightened and confused because she was afraid she was getting too close to her Father’s personal assistant and needed to be far away from everyone. What made it even more joyous was the fact that she will be going out of Lagos to school, no one had to know that she’d secretly paid her father’s driver, Baba Sanni to help process and re-direct her admission from University of Lagos to Port Harcourt. From stories of bewilderment she’s heard from her cousins, she knew Port Harcourt was just the place for her! She just couldn’t wait to hit the Garden City!
She grew up within the four corners of the affluence of Ikoyi’s Glover road and Alexandra Avenue, then travelled further down across the bridge to AIS for High school. Her life has always been surrounded by all the beautiful things only good money could buy. It is always within the same crowd of people who goes to the same school, same church, same club house and the same social event and discuss the same thing! boastful talk on power, celebrity gossips on who’s who, who’s wearing the latest from Tiffany’s, Family houses in UK, Father’s Swiss account and Mother’s trip to a newly acquired company in Switzerland. All always stuck up, snobbish and arrogant.
Hanging around them is always a foreign lady as their maid, sometimes addressed as “Ms. Pino or Ms. Dino” either carrying their leisure 100% genuine leather Prada or Gucci bag or rushing to the bar to get them a refill of another chilled Chapman. Omolara never enjoyed any of this. No privacy! Well, except when she’s whisked away for summer vacation via first class on British Caledonian airline where she’s allowed to mix with her schoolmates on board. All chatting away noisily in that “spoilt rich kid” attitude. Pulling in all the “r” and ‘o” in their conversation, automatically changing their accents while their phonemes is replaced by a defect in their sinus, rolling their eye and faking exaggeration of awareness, even though their plane still hasn’t taken off the soil of their mother tongue. Hmm!
So, it is all the way to Port Harcourt to live with her 3 cousins (from her mother’s side of the family) who were already in the College of Technology and School of Education. Straight from the airport, she was taken to the boys quarters of a main building with a well-manicured lawn that belonged to a Professor Harrison. In this cave-like 4×4 flushed painted room, were two well-used mattresses spread out on the terrazzo floor with a cheap blue bed sheet that’s probably seen better days due to constant washing with a local hand soap, and there it was, still struggling to cover the edges of the foam. Suitcases dragged to one corner and a make shift table with piles of empty boxes in the middle of the room.
“Where exactly will I be sleeping? – Omolara rolled her eyes and turned to Ayibari, her younger cousin who was now pretending to be fidgeting with her bag. “Well, Lara, hmmm, the thing is that, Ovie is not always…
To Be Continued…