Living in an African home comes with some unwritten constitution, or, should I call it, rules, that you’re meant to know as you grow up, even without anyone telling you about them, especially as a Nigerian. The story you’re about to read now is something that always makes me laugh whenever I think about it. I’m sure this is going to put a smile on your face too.
Image is mine
I was just a young, innocent boy who was mostly home alone; my dad works in the city and only comes home during the weekend. Mommy's office wasn’t too far from home, but she comes home late in the evening, so most of the time I’m home alone with my younger siblings, and I’m free to do whatever I want.
There is this lady who was new in the area; we became friends in a short time. My mom was always meeting her anytime she gets home, and when she gets home, this lady tells me good-bye then goes back to her home. Questions like “Who is she? Why is she always running when I come home? Do you know her parents?" And there are countless more questions like that.
I don’t even know why I need that information when I’m not a CIA agent. It kept happening like this for some time, so I decided to make her wait until my mom was back so they could get to know each other better. Normally, ladies are always shy when the guy's mom is at home, which I don’t know why, she’s not gonna do anything to you so why running away. It was evening that very good day, I knew my mom would be home soon, so I told her to let’s go inside my room. My innocent intentions were to keep her there till my mom came around. I asked her to play a Ludo game with me to keep her busy.
We started this game on the floor, and since it was uncomfortable, I requested we move the game to the bed because I would be able to lay down comfortably on the bed and play the game. While we were playing and giggling, my mom walked into my room and found both of us on the bed. It felt like I have broken one of the ten commandant of Moses.
I wasn’t meant to be afraid, but fear gripped me by the throat and slammed me against the wall. "Mummy,” that was all the word that could come out of my mouth. The lady greeted her and walked out of the room while my mom was still standing by the door without saying anything.
I knew I was going to be murdered and resurrected as a new creature that night, so I started crying. “Why are you crying? Have I touched you?” The question alone was enough to boost my crying engine; my crying volume went up the roof, and then my mom walked out of my room.
I couldn’t sleep that night because she did not beat the living hell out of me. I was expecting an ambush during my sleep. I waited all night without any sleep, but nothing happened. She did not even beat me the following day, and until this moment, we just laughed about it. I guess she knows the kind of son she trained would never do anything bad under her roof as a kid.
Anytime I reminisce about that moment, I always laugh because right now she wants to know who I’m dating—a single boy gang.😀
This is my entry for the Hivenaija weekly prompt
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