Nini discovered she had the super ability to hold back her comments and mind her business when she was dishing the customer's food before her. She looked at the plate holding plain stew, okra and Efon riro, and piled on top of that was fish and meat of different varieties.
"Is that all, Sir?" Nini asked the bespectacled suited man before her. Please let that be all, she wanted to beg him.
"Is that ugwu?" The man asked, pointing to the soup in the large aluminum dish.
"It's Egusi soup Sir," Nini answered.
"Add that one, one spoon, and one boiled egg. That's all."
"Si..Sir?" Nini had to make sure she heard him right. The customer repeated the same order, and she clamped down her lips she proceeded to serve him.
"Give me a wrap of Fufu and pounded yam, or can you mix those two together to become one?" The customer asked.
Over my dead body, Nini should have said to him, instead, she shook her head. "No Sir, both the pounded yam and Fufu cannot be mixed together. They are served as separate meals."
"How come you can't mix it together?" The customer asked.
Because we make human meals. "That's how it's done, Sir."
"Okay, just bring it, how much is my money?"
He paid and went to sit at a table. Nini tried hard not to look his way, and she focused her eyes on serving the next customer in front of her.
"How did you not scream when he kept ordering all of that?" Ayomide said next to her.
Nini glanced her way. "So you saw?"
"It's hard not to. If he has stomach problems after, he shouldn't come to complain here," Ayomide said, scooping two ladles of steaming Jollof rice unto a plate. "Nini, look at him. Look quickly! He's using a part of the boiled egg to scoop the okra into his mouth, iyama!"
"I won't look, I can't," Nini said. She could feel the irritation course all through her body.
"Okay oo, but your friend is here sha," Ayomide said.
Nini looked up at that. Making her way toward her was none other than Dara, walking that familiar walk of hers, chest puffed out like a soldier, her hands fisted by her sides, as if she was always ready to throw blows anytime. Nini had told her several times that she looked like the Nigerian version of Moana with her build. Dara's strong jaw softened when a smile drew across her face as she spotted Nini's eyes on her.
Nini looked away and scooped the next customer's food.
"Nini, Nini!" Dara said as a way of greeting. She had entered behind the counter, and was standing next to her friend. "Ayomide, how far na?"
"I dey oo," Ayomide responded.
"Nini," Dara tapped her friend's cheek. "What happened? I was greeting you."
"Good afternoon, can you please be going?" Nini requested.
"So I came all the way here and you want me to leave?" Dara asked.
"Why didn't you call me?" Nini asked, stopping the scooping for a while. "I was down for days and you didn't even bother to come around or call."
"Nini," Dara put a hand on her friend's shoulder, to which Nini shrugged away. "Oya, I'm sorry. Happy?"
"I don't accept your apology," Nini said, and returned to her work.
"You too, you didn't call me. And you don't see me angry, do you?" Dara threw back at her.
"Rice has finished," Nini announced to the next customer. "Let me go and get more in the kitchen."
"Nini," Dara called, following her as she took the aluminum dish into the kitchen, the sound of the noisiness outside replaced by the sounds of clanging kitchenwares inside. Dara stopped Nini with a hand, and the other glared daggers at her.
"Why are you doing like this now? O daa, the reason I didn't come or call is because I don't want to be around crying. You know I hate it when people cry around me. It makes me uncomfortable," Dara said.
"So you would rather avoid me?" Nini asked.
"Nini..."
"No, Dara, answer the question. You would rather avoid me than to be around me crying? Next time, I'll talk to my tear ducts to press pause when you're around, okay?" Nini said.
Dara didn't say anything to that. Nini approached the pot of the new batch of Jollof rice, and she waited as Bisi, one of the head cooks, began to dish it.
"Ah, Dara," Bisi called, her face brightening. Dara always knew everyone and everyone always knew Dara, it was just who Dara was. "You've come to visit us today. I heard about your JAMB result, congratulations."
Nini whipped her head to look at Dara. Dara found the rice interesting to stare at.
"You've seen your JAMB result?" Nini asked.
"Yes," Dara said. "I was meaning to tell you today. I scored 237."
"Congratulations," Nini said through clenched teeth. Bisi looked at the two friends, and decided it was best not to say any more words.
"Nini, I couldn't tell you because you were...going through a lot," Dara said.
"Please, I am not asking for your pity," Nini said.
"I'm not pitying you. It's just how things are done. Imagine I told you now, won't you have cried more?" Dara asked. "I was being careful..."
"Careful?" Nini scoffed out a laugh and used the back of her hand to wipe the sweat that had gathered on her forehead. "Okay."
When Bisi was done dishing the food, Nini was about to carry it, but Dara was fast to move it out of her way.
"Dara? Give that back," Nini demanded.
Dara walked inside the kitchen and dropped the food on the table, and she folded her arms as she regarded her friend.
"I only didn't tell you because I knew you weren't in a good mood. I'm not heartless." Dara explained.
"Says the girl who avoided me because I was crying."
"Okay, it's either you accept my apology or I won't come here again," Dara said.
"So you're now threatening me?"
"No oo, think of it as assignment deadline. If you submit before it, no problem. If you don't, it's useless," Dara said, trying to stifle her smile.
Nini eyed her from head to toe. "Congratulations on your result."
"Thank you," Dara beamed. "So, I heard that Jide came to see you the first day you returned here. Hei, Nini, you're enjoying oo."
Nini gave a loud, long resounding hiss as she moved to take the food. Dara was quick to block her way.
"What did I do again?" Dara asked.
"Everytime, boy, boy, boy. Boy matter no dey tire you?" Nini said. "We are talking about JAMB, you are talking about Jide."
"Me I thought we are talking about things that start with the letter J," Dara joked.
"Dara, be going home." Nini clapped her hands. "Leave me and be going."
"So because I brought up your boyfriend...."
"God forbid, that guy isn't my boyfriend."
"Ahn ahn, Nini, Jide is fine oo," Dara said. "He's now tall, and he now has muscles, and he's now sexy. Don't you see women fighting to be with him, so what's wrong? Really? Is it that you don't like him?"
"Yes, it's because I don't like him," Nini said.
"He went to tertiary institution oo. If you think he's uneducated..."
"I don't know if I should be offended because you are the one pushing me to him or if I should be offended because you think tertiary education is a reason I choose not to..."
"Nini!" A voice screeched from behind, halting her in her talk. Nini knew she was in trouble, and when Morayo stepped forward, ladle in hand and brows that could draw down to the bridge of her nose when she frowned, Nini did an apology curtsey to the lady.
Morayo was the second-in-charge after Iya Asake, something she wielded with as much joy as a tyrant in a land of peasants.
"Mildred, take that rice and take over Nini's post," she ordered. She looked back at Nini, and tutted. "So customers are there waiting and you are here gisting? If Madam doesn't punish you, be sure that I will. You are staying behind to wash the pots."
"But..."
"Another word and I'll add more punishment," Morayo warned. Nini didn't say anything more, and when Morayo barely sent Dara a glance and walked away, Dara drew her friend closer.
"Wo, leave her. I'll join you to wash pots. There is something I came for that I have to show you," Dara said, reaching for her back pocket. "Have you repaired your phone?"
Nini shook her head, already drained about her phone's issue. Her phone was one of the problems she didn't want to think of. Ever since the last repair at a guy's shop in computer village at an exorbitant amout, the phone went off anytime she decided to browse on it. So far, it's only function was calls, messages and torchlight, and Nini's mother had refused to put another money down.
Dara moved closer to her friend, and Nini watched as she scrolled through Instagram until she stopped at a post. Nini read through it, and her eyes opened when she saw it was a scholarship for her dream culinary institute, The Rouge Effect Culinary Institute.
"How did you see this?" Nini asked.
"I have all my posts notifications on for every good culinary institute in this Lagos, and when I saw this one, I ran down here as fast as I can." Dara said.
Nini scrolled through the instructions. "It's going to be on in two days. And I have to record a minute video of myself to say why I should be granted the scholarship, and...," She raised her head and looked at Dara. "...it's an online voting thing. The person with the most likes in the final round gets chosen."
"And so?" Dara asked. "When we get there, we'll worry. As for now, we have to make that video for you. It's a nine months program, so when you're done, another JAMB will be out for you to resit."
"Thank you, Dara," Nini hugged her friend. "If you know how much this Culinary Institute costs, I didn't even bother with it. But this," Nini broke the hug. "Learning under the Chef Rouge, it's going to be a dream come true."
"Our very own Chef Hilda," Dara celebrated. "Everybody oo, you have a celebrity Chef in your midst!"
Nini clamped a hand down her friend's mouth, smiling apologetically at the eyes that had turned in their direction.
"Stop Dara, let's not count our eggs before they are hatched," Nini said.
"This egg has hatched oo, and has grown into a full adult. All that remains now is for us to slaughter it, cook it, and eat in enjoyment," Dara said.
Nini threw her head back and laughed, a laughter that dispelled all the sadness that had loomed around her for days.
"Go Nini! Go Nini! Go!" Dara sang, and she did a mini dance in the centre of the kitchen. "Go Nini! Go Nini! Go!"
_
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_
Nini spent a good portion of her time washing the pots. Dara that promised to joined did the less tedious part of it, and most of the evening had been spent with her talking Nini's ears off about everything and anything.
When Nini got back home, all she wanted to do was wash the smell of burnt food, grease and liquid soap off her body, but she stopped short when she saw her mother in the living room, her reading glasses on and a notepad and pen in her hand as she stared hard at her phone screen.
"Ah Ninioluwa, Kaabo." Her mother looked up and greeted. " It's good that you met me here. Come and sit. We have a lot to do."
Nini moved into the living room, and she sat on the leather couch with her mother. On the television, an African Magic drama was playing, muted.
"Ehen, so I have been researching," her mother said. "And I think your best option right now is Mapoly at Abeokuta."
"Best option for what?" Nini asked.
"Tertiary education. You'll go there for one year, and try another JAMB, and when that one is successful, you will move to the University of your choice," her mother explained.
"So why should I go to Mapoly in the first place if I know I am going to waste my time for a year?" Nini asked.
"There is no time wasted when it comes to seeking knowledge, and who knows, you might like it," her mother said. "Your Aunt too was the same thing. She didn't like her course at first, but look now, isn't she one of the successful Agriculturist?"
"Mummy, I have heard you," Nini said, rising to her feet. "But I am not going to Mapoly."
"You are going oo," her mother removed the glasses and set it down on the center table. "Nini, it is not here that you will waste another year cooking for that Iya Asake..."
"How come you would make the decision for me?" Nini asked. There was a weariness that came over her that only sleep could fix. "Look, Mummy, I can't go there."
"Do you know what I went through at your age?" Her mother asked. Nini took everything in her not to stomp her feet. She knew the story as old as her existence on this earth, something her mother never failed to recount.
"Do you know I had to stop after my secondary school because my parents didn't have enough money to send all three of us to school? I had to work odd jobs, and it's not like these times that anyone with skills can just work, those times were different. I worked as a fuel attendant, a cashier, at the ports, as a typist at the cyber cafe, you name it, I even had to work as a waitress in a club, pushed myself to do that so we could survive. All before I met your father, all before I could finally settle down and go to University online. I graduated at 34 and began to work as a civil servant at 39, and you stand there, telling me you don't want to go to Mapoly," her mother finished her rant, or so Nini thought.
"This Mapoly, you are going..."
"...Mummy, you can't..."
"...you will not go down the path I did. I worked hard to make sure of that," her mother said. "That thing you're doing at Iya Asake's place is something I only allowed because it takes you out of the house, but it must stop. After work tomorrow, we will do more research on the Mapoly. Understood?"
Nini knew better than to say anything to oppose it.
"Understood?" Her mother asked again.
"I'm not promising anything," Nini grumbled.
"Torh, I promised your father that I would give you the best life, and I would hold on to that promise," her mother said. "Have you eaten? Or did Iya Asake decide not to give you food?"
"I've eaten," Nini said. She made to go to her room, and her mother stood in the way to the passage.
"Ninioluwalere," her mother called softly, looking up to her daughter. "I hope you see I only want the best for you."
"I've heard you," Nini said.
"Okay then, tell me good night." Her mother said.
"Good night Mummy," Nini said.
Her mother smiled at her. With a pat on her arm, she left her daughter and walked into her room.
Nini went to her own room. She didn't want to think about her father that day, but when her eyes went around her room, from the desk and table she had organized her books and stationary, the long nail next to her full length mirror that held her varieties of bag, the carpet on the floor her mother had always changed at her request every year if she grew bored with it, her single bed, and the big book of inspiration she had dropped at the centre of the bed.
She could feel her father in every object, as if his essence had possessed every bit of her space. His fingers had touched everywhere, and the magic of his presence lingered. She smiled, remembering him as if he had walked in that afternoon, telling her he wanted to cook dinner.
She looked like him, people often told her, and it made her happy. He was a fine man, always had been, and his genes had resulted in her tallness and umber skin, and he used it to tease her mother's height when Nini towered over her as a teen.
She dumped herself on the bed, and opened her big book of inspiration, a scrapbook she had started to ginger her toward her dream. She looked through all the pictures of the female chefs she had cut out and paste in it, pictures of Mariya Russell, Julia Child, Yewande Komolafe, Helena Rizzo, Clare Smyth, Nadia Hussain, and many more up till the recent Hilda Baci.
She knew she had her father to blame for putting the love of cooking in her, and she wouldn't stop until she became she Chef she imagined herself to be.
She laid on her back and stared at the ceiling. Some time in future, she could see herself in her full chef ensemble, taking the accolades after long hours in the kitchen at one of the branches of her five star restaurant somewhere, and she would bow.
Somewhere in a seat in the corner, her mother and Dara are there, clapping the loudest.
Somewhere in that place, she could almost hear her father say, like he always does when she said she wanted to become a chef,
"I know you would make me a proud father of a great Chef someday."