NKOYO III

PICTURE CREDIT: META

DESIGNED BY: theunusual_writer.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the characters, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Hey there,💕

I’m back with something spicy for y’all and I’m eagerly anticipating your engagements and comments.

Thank you.

So life continued.

The pain of the disappointment I had caused Mama had started to ease off gradually, although not entirely, but she had started warming up to me. She sat outside the verandah with me, opened her teeth a little bit more, and put little pieces of fish and fried beef in my mouth whenever I was in the kitchen with her.

Papa was as normal as ever, and Kaykay was hardly ever at home. He went to Uncle John’s lesson in the morning and stopped by at his friends place in the evening for some “God of war.”

So it was just me and my very idle thoughts. Ifeoma was gone, obinna was gone, and even though I felt slight pangs of regret whenever I thought about them, I had refused to admit to myself that I was an "efulefu.”.

Days were going by, weeks were going by, and day after day I felt more stupid. On some days, I flipped through the pages of my past question booklet; on other days, I slept throughout and woke up only for lunch, dinner, and family time.

***

“Ekwuzina!!!!! Don’t say that!”. Papa had exclaimed one morning over the phone, snapping his fingers. I could hear his voice from the study as I mopped the sitting room tiles clean. Mama rushed out of the kitchen in the direction of the study, and her loud wailings engulfed the house.

Aunty Ngo had died!

She had died of cancer in America. A huge lump had formed in my throat, and it was only a matter of time before I'd burst out crying. Aunty Ngo was “the big aunty” everyone of us looked forward to seeing at Christmas. And she always came with a box full of goodies and clothes. She would usually hire a big sienna to take us out every Christmas Day, and we would all squeeze ourselves into the car, and as numerous as we were, we all fit in.

Amusement park, Shoprite!. 

She was always ready to slot in her card for one payment or the other.

Mama used to say that she usually spoilt us silly because she didn’t have any children, and somehow we were all her compensation from her chi. Aunty Ngo was a fighter, and when I heard that she was diagnosed with breast cancer, I hadn’t worried too much and this was because I knew she was going to fight it and she was going to win.

But she didn’t fight for so long.

All the emotions I had piled up in my chest all came pouring down like a heavy rain. Both from the regret of listening to Kolokuma to how much I had disappointed my parents to the fear of never making it to school to Aunty Ngo’s death.

I knew those tears were more about myself than Aunty Ngo, and I hated to run errands for Mama because the street gossips were always waiting for me.

“Fine girl! Come nau! How are you? How your mama and papa? Ehen I hear say you no get admission this year!”. Ofure the pepper seller would say smiling sheepishly. Mama had warned me to stop buying pepper from her shop, and no matter how I tried to avoid her, she would always shout “fine girl” from afar, drag me to her shade, stuff plenty of pepper into a black nylon bag, and snatch the money from my hand.

“Tell your mama, say I dey greet am.”. 

And it amused me that she knew nothing about whether I had gotten admission or not. She just wanted to get the first-hand gist of why I was still at home, but I always smiled and nodded my head.

I owed her nothing and I made it a point of duty to never feed her starving ears.

**

A few days before we went to the village for Aunty NGO’s wake-keeping, Mama insisted that I braid my hair in Aunty Elunor’s salon, the best salon in our area—brimming with gossip and Fela’s song “Zombie.”. She had a small air conditioner in her shop, and whenever anyone was going out of the shop without closing the door, she would shout, “You no know, say AC Dey shop?”. 

Her mouth was as busy as her hands; she was either eating chin-chin, eggroll, chewing groundnut, or drinking fanmilk. And she would use those same hands to continue braiding. I pointed at a brown braid style on her catalogue, and she nodded as she proceeded to look for the exact colour on the wall where she hung different colours of attachment.

She applied a chunk of soulmate cream to my thick hair and started the cutting.

"Make I see the style again.”. 

As I sat there, I couldn’t help but think about all my big cousins that would be present. Some were in 200 level already, and I dreaded the questions I would have to answer.

Mama had wanted to use me to save face, and I knew Mama was disappointed in me because she somehow expected me to cover her shame after Kolokuma had repeatedly failed JAMB for two good years, and come to think of it,

What if he fails JAMB again???.

What next???

I wish I could tell you guys to join me next Sunday but it’s so unfortunate that I’m not sure.

I’ve been very busy lately and I haven’t really had time . My schedule leaves little or no time for me to write and so I have decided to quit writing this particular story in parts and release everything but that would be in Part IV.

I know this is very short but please bear with me, the next/last part would be out soon.

It’s another Sunday to express how much I love you guys. Thank you for clicking on the link, thank you for reading, liking, commenting and whatever it is you do. I am really grateful to God for the gift of all of you💕✨.

Please let me know your thoughts in the comment section🙏.

And if you can't comment due to any issues send your thoughts to my email: asindiwendy3@gmail.com

Thank you so much for reading💕.

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