#Unedited#
This chapter is dedicated to @JohnExcel56 For being the first person to vote on this book.
You glow differently when you are not hurting, miserable, or messy
-Unknown
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ʐaʀaɦ aɖaʋɨʐɛ
Adavize Ruth, Zarah's mother, leaned against her wooden door. Her dark brown eyes, dull and lifeless, staring into nothingness, did notice her elder daughter, Zarah, walking into the compound.
It was a typical Nigerian "face-me-I-face-you" compound consisting of twelve painfully small rooms built so close together that there was hardly any room for the thirty-nine people and livestock it housed.
Amid angry mothers, squalling kids, rowdy teenagers huddled up in different groups, chattering at an annoying pitch, the bleating of goats and sheep, and the cackling of chickens, Zarah's mom looked like a soul drowning in torpor.
Save for the clanking of plates by her five-year-old son beside her and the desperate scramble of her younger daughter's tiny hand to find something to satisfy her hunger in her mother's bosom her world was one drowned in absolute listlessness.
As Zarah neared her mother, she observed her with a sad smile. Her mother looked much older than her age, having thinned considerably over the years. Tiny facial wrinkles had started forming around her eyes, her once thick black hair now flecked with grey, and her bony hand loosely clutched her eight-month-old daughter. She barely resembled the young and pretty person she had once been.
"Mother," Zarah called softly, clutching the brown envelope she held in her hands to her chest.
"Hmm?" Her mother hummed in reply, she cast a glazed look on her daughter's face. It took her a few moments for her brain to register who it was.
Her previous tepid disposition dissolved into that of a tender and loving mother.
"Oh, Zarah! You have come?" She asked weakly, her voice inert and hollow.
"Yes, Ma."
"Okay, go inside and rest. There's food on the table for you."
"Okay, Ma." Zarah decided to keep her good news to herself for the moment. She padded toward the door but paused and winced when she noticed the ear-splitting sound her seven-year-old brother, Joseph, was so engrossed in creating. She snatched the plates from his hands and dashed into their one-bedroom apartment, ignoring his loud cries of protest.
The stifling air hit her as soon as she entered the dimly lit room. Using her left hand to fan herself, she walked over to the window and raised the old, worn-out curtain covering it, pegging it with one hand while the other hand still clutched the envelope and plate firmly. The only source of light in the tightly packed room was the rays of sunshine that peeked through the window and the translucent curtains.
She placed the envelope and the plate gently on the only table they had in the room and proceeded to take off the blue cotton shirt she was wearing. It was already dampened with perspiration and clung to her body tightly. She threw it on a heap of clothes beside the bed, leaving her with just a white undershirt and faded blue jean shorts.
Taking the food from the table, she slumped into the plastic chair beside the bed, exhaling loudly. She removed the steel plate serving as a cover for the food. It was Jollof rice prepared with palm oil.
"Joseph!" She yelled.
No response.
"Joseph, oh!" She called again, but her voice was drowned in the chaos and loud chattering noise in the compound. She realized there was no way her younger brother could have heard her.
She paused, inhaled deeply, then screamed with a pitch that could be heard a thousand miles away, "Joseeeeepphhhhhhh!"
For a moment, it seemed like the whole compound went still, as only her voice echoed before the loud bickering and chatter resumed.
"Zarah!" Her mother yelled angrily from where she sat in front of the room. "Do you want to break my eardrums?"
Zarah mellowed. "Sorry," she muttered meekly.
Joseph scurried in. "You called me?"
"Yes, I did. Bring me a spoon and water to drink."
He grumbled under his breath, scrambling off to get what he was sent to fetch, and seconds later, he was back with a cup of water and a spoon.
Zarah collected it gratefully. "Thanks." Before she could finish her statement, Joseph had dashed out at the speed of lightning to play with his friends.
She shook her head, the corner of her lips stretching into a thin smile, and proceeded to spoon the rice into her mouth. Although the food was cooked without fish or meat, it was a delicious meal.
She downed the contents of the cup in one gulp and let out a loud burp in satisfaction.
Her mind reverted to the good news she had for her mother, and a feeling of excitement washed over her. She felt giddy with excitement and couldn't wait to share the news. She wanted her mother in the right frame of mind first.
Her eyes roved around the room, and she realized her older brother was not yet home.
"I'll wait for Justin to come home first," she decided.
She jumped up with new fervor, fueled by euphoria and gusto. It was as if the elasticity of her lips had gone loose because her smile was so wide that you would think it might crack at any moment.
She picked up the envelope from the table and fingered through it elatedly. She clutched it tenderly to her chest like a mother would her child. She still couldn't believe it; it all felt like a dream. If it was, she wouldn't want to be woken up from it.
When her friend handed her the letter, she had read and reread the name a thousand times just to be sure. How euphoric it had felt to find out that she could finally ease her mother of the burden of paying her school fees. She often wondered how her mother was able to shoulder the responsibility of providing for four kids singlehandedly.
"Zarah"
She was jolted back to reality by her mother's voice.
She put the envelope down hurriedly and picked up the plates she used to eat.
"Ma!"
"Have you finished eating?"
"Yes, ma."
"Okay, come and make fire and put water on the fire for Amala."
Zarah grumbled under her breath and subconsciously dropped the plates she was holding. She always hated cooking outside, but she had no choice; she had to help her mom in every possible way she could.
"Okay, ma." Her response was barely audible, but she assumed her mother had heard anyway.
She skipped out of the room, her long hair held back in a ponytail with an elastic band, danced, and swayed in the wind as she jumped in enthusiasm.
Zarah's mom's eyebrows furrowed as she noticed that her daughter was exceptionally happy.
"Zarah," her mother called.
"Ma'am?" Zarah beamed at her with a wide grin.
"Are you okay?" Her mother asked, peering at her suspiciously.
She nodded enthusiastically, her eyes twinkling. She tried hard to suppress her smile, but happiness radiated from her.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Her mother inquired again.
"Yes, Ma," Zarah replied confidently, her hair bouncing along with her excitement.
Her mother didn't entirely believe her but decided to let it be. If Zarah didn't want to share the cause of her excitement, it was her cup of tea. However, her mother couldn't resist stealing curious glances at her eldest daughter, who was busy gathering pieces of wood to start a fire.
After successfully igniting the fire, Zarah hurried into the small kitchen attached to their room. Theirs was the last of the six rooms on the left, affording them the privilege of having a small wooden kitchen area made of bamboo sticks and rusted zinc by the side.
She retrieved a medium-sized aluminum pot and used a bowl to fetch water from a large three-legged pot they used for storing water for cooking.
Mummy," she called as she emerged from the kitchen, "Cooking water has finished, oh!" She placed the pot on three large stones firmly planted in the ground, arranged closely together to prevent the pot from sitting directly on the logs of wood producing heat. She poured half of the remaining water from the bowl into it.
"Water has run out? Okay, when Justin returns, we'll go fetch some."
"Don't worry, we'll get it. You need to rest; you look tired and emaciated. Just stay at home with Joseph and Tara. When Justin comes back, we'll all go together," Zarah reassured her.
Ruth smiled at her daughter's thoughtfulness. "Okay."
"I even forgot to bring a cover for the pot. Let me go and get it," Zarah said, starting another trip to the kitchen.
"Check if the remaining soup will be enough for us this evening," her mother called after her.
"It should be enough. I'll scrape the edges of the pot and add water and salt; we can manage it that way."
"Okay." Ruth stood up, carefully placed her sleeping child on her chest, and moved to lay her where she'd get proper rest.
Zarah watched the fire contentedly as she stirred the corn in the water. She broke off a twig from a dead tree on the ground and fed it to the fire.
"Brother Oyoyo!" Joseph shouted, enveloping his elder brother in a tight hug, his small hands clutching his legs.
Justin affectionately ruffled his brother's hair and pulled out a small biscuit from his pocket, handing it over to him.
Joseph let out a loud shriek of surprise and jumped up in excitement. "Biscuit! Biscuit!"
Justin observed his brother with a bittersweet smile. If he had the money, he would certainly get his brother these little treats every day.
He sighed. "Where is Mother and Zarah?" He asked his younger brother, who had already devoured the biscuit like a hungry lion, ignoring the many hands and voices of his friends surrounding him, begging for a piece.
"I'm here oh!" Zarah announced as she picked up a local fan to tend to the fire.
"And how's my baby sis doing?" He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked over to where Zarah was bent over the fire.
Zarah scrunched up her face in annoyance. "And who are you calling 'baby sis'? I thought I told you to stop calling me that."
"Well.... As far as I'm concerned, you will always be my baby sis," he teased in a singsong voice, tugging playfully at her cheeks.
Zarah swatted away his hands and folded her arms across her chest, pouting childishly. "I'm not a baby!"
"Yes, you are," he sang, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"I'm... umm... you... you are... Ugh!" She huffed and stormed into the room.
Justin chuckled and followed her inside.
"MUMMY!!! JUSTIN'S CALLING ME A BABY!!!"
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A/N
Done and dusted 😌
So what do you think?
Come on!🙄 It's just the first chapter, I know it's boring but it'll get better I promise 😂
And for my non-Nigerian readers 🙄 That's if there is any way
Oyoyo is equivalent to Welcome, it's a term little children use to welcome elders. Well at least, where I stay. I don't know about other parts of Nigeria.
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Signing out
Love
😇
Favvy_Jay