Contents Of Life

01: COMPARISON

Comparison.

Comparison is something that has drawn many teenagers into depression. I've been a victim too. It didn't exactly change me or make me better. Rather, it made me feel the worst of myself. As I peeped through the curtains at Apina's house, mother's words echoed in my head.

"Why can't you be like Apina for once? Why are you so careless about everything?" Mother yelled with angry veins popping out of her neck and forehead. "Why can't you do anything right?"

I dare not try to explain myself to her if I didn't want to be put into her hot pepper soup and pepper soup I mean, receiving the beating of a life time. I was only fifteen, young but not exactly naive. I knew good and bad and that was fair enough for me. Just anything I did doesn't always seem right to my parents. A day doesn't pass by without my mother comparing me with Apina and insulting me in the process.

I remembered the day mother pointed outside, through the kitchen window as she spotted Apina sweeping her compound and then said to me, "See? Apina does all the work at home. Such a good girl. She washes her dads clothes, goes to the market, cooks for her parents and does every other house chores at home without been asked or forced to. Why can't you be like Apina? Isn't she your age mate? God! Why I'm I so unlucky? Why did I give birth to you instead of Apina?"

Maybe mother said all those things only out of anger but the words stung. It stung like a needle was nipping my heart steadily. Everynight, I'd curl up on my bed and cry my self to sleep. Sometimes, wishing I wasn't born into such family while other times, praying to God that I'd be like Apina and just maybe, Mommy would be happy with me.

So today, as I looked at Apina's house through the curtains, I decided that I'd give her a visit and maybe ask her how she does it. How come is she so perfect and I'm not? I needed to know the secret. I'd do anything to be like her.

Too lazy to put on my bra, I wore a baggy T-shirt and shrugged on my trouser, getting ready for Apina's. Her eyes sparkled with delight once she saw me in front of her door. I was welcomed warmly into her home and I had to admit her house was clean unlike ours. 'Apina was really hardworking.' I thought with a gulp.

She ushered me to her tiny room and as I entered, my mouth fell open in awe. Her room was scattered like it was trash and it was quite smelling too. How come the well trained Apina couldn't arrange her room but she could do everything else? Or was this her little secret? I wondered.

"Make yourself comfortable," She offered.

I sat on the floor far away from her unmade bed in silence, scared of a rat running out from under the bed anytime soon.

Silence stretched on and on as I waited for Apina to say something but she was looking for something under her bed. I waited patiently. Soon enough, she brought out a pack of cigar from her locker and a bottle of beer from under her bed. This made me raise my brow questioningly at her.

She laughed, "Yea, I smoke and drink. Do you?"

I shook my head sideways in negative.

"Would you like to try?" she asked, stretching forward the pack of cigar to me.

"No." I rejected.

Then I decided it best that I ask what I was there for and leave because I was uncomfortable. This wasn't what I expected from the good Apina.

Apina laughed a handful when I threw the question at her. When her laughter died down, she said with so much pride coloring her voice, "I only do my house chores because my parents pays me to do it. My dad pays me money for washing his clothes. My mom sweeps the house and cooks. I only sweep the compound, throw the dirts and go to the market for her because she pays me well for it."

I was in total shock to say anything.

"The money they give me goes for clothes, cigarettes and drinks." She added, "My parents doesn't know about it. Please keep it a secret."

I was speechless. It was like a glue had sealed my lips together. I watched as Apina lit her ciger, drew in and out of her nostril like nothing mattered in the world. I watched as Apina drank directly from the bottle of beer. And as I watched, I wished mother was here to witness this. The so called good girl she always compares me with was nothing like that. Right there and then, I swore to myself that no matter the comparison, I was never going to be like her. Never.

My encounter with Apina had thought me something; what we see, is not always what it is.

©Love_Richie,
The storyteller.