A PAIL OF FAITH

It’s been a while since mama laughed, smiled. Actually it’s been a year, 365 days without her cheeks feeling full and her premolars breathing…Mama is not usually a sad person… in fact, she is the most joyful person I know…or at least she used to be, up until 12 months ago, when papa left home and did not return. The thing is… I do not understand why our heart knots our emotions together like a white collar job worker’s tie, the knot was so tight that when you were in love with someone, your reason for happiness becomes what they do.

I do not blame papa though, mama loved him so much she broke him… Yes, it is possible to love too much… or what do they now call it… an obsession? Yes… that’s the right word… mama was obsessed with papa. Papa had said that in the letter he left her on the table, the one with the very tiny rectangular mahogany decorated surface… Papa was that kind of coward that he could not man up to his woman and say it was over… or was he protective? He didn’t want to see her tears flow, well whether he saw them or not, the rivulets came, first as little sobs that lasted only few seconds and then as floods that lasted for weeks, months and finally one year. He had asked her to move on if she liked, that he was not coming back… Mama always reminded us that papa was a good man, and that she was sure he would come back home, just so we would not hate on him, he left her all the assets and sends money to us, from time to time through his brother, uncle Chidi. The wads were sometimes so small, I could swear uncle Chidi had helped us spend a little of it, I made myself believe that, because as mama had said, Papa was a good man, and I didn’t think he would leave us to the fate of groundnut and garri sometimes as three square meal.
I do not understand these things, matters of the heart, if you loved too little… there was a problem, if you loved too much, there was a problem… if you loved moderately, there was still a problem…sigh!

I was in the kitchen washing the plates when the sound of mama’s laughter rang throughout the house, I had even forgotten what it sounded like…My sister, Uju and I ran out of the house like wild dogs, because we assumed her sadness had made her mad.
“Mama, ödikwa mma?” Uju asked, wanting to know if mama was alright, I didn’t need to find out, I was convinced mama had gone mad. The laughter was saturated with too much joy, the one that only a mad person can feel after complete melancholy.
“Uju kpá chara anya gí o? She may not recognize you.” I warned, so that Uju didn’t get hurt, as I took refuge behind her. I was older, but Uju was a man who came as a woman, Papa always told her that.
“We should take her inside.” Uju advised, mama was sitting on the floor now, her hands folded across her chest and the suspicious laughter, increasing with each passing second.
“My children, I am not mad, see your papa, he is coming back home.” Mama said, pointing to a distant, closing in figure.
Uju and me looked up, and there was papa, he was coming home, he looked thinner than usual, but mama will feed him back to his usual figure, that I was sure of… but just as the man got closer, we discovered it was not papa, it was uncle Chidi, his countenance was sad, he had come to break the news of papa’s death.