with such savings accumulated over time, you can purchase a whole chicken if you similarly haggle with the butcher
one chicken can last several meals if you make soup
and are watching your waistline
my point is that you are a Nigerian
no matter how high and mighty you think you are
no matter how English-English your future husband
no matter how English-English you yourself pretend to be
what is more, if you address me as Mother ever again I will beat you until you are dripping wet with blood and then I will hang you upside down over the balcony with the washing to dry
I be your mama
now and forever
never forget that, abi?
by the time she had finished, Carole had tracks of black mascara running down her cheeks and Bummi was grateful to once again feel the warmth of her child’s body when they held each other
the child who left the flat in tears that morning thanking Mama for talking to her again because, she said, when your own mother pretends you don’t exist, it is like you are dead
Bummi watched Carole as she stepped into the urine-smelling lift to take her to ground level
her daughter would soon belong completely to them.
2
Bummi remembers how her own mama gathered up her wrappa to flee Opolo in the Niger Delta
after Bummi’s papa, Moses, had been blown up while illegally refining diesel
heating barrels of crude oil in the swamps while standing too close to the flames of this cottage industry was dangerous
producing diesel from oil that was only two barrels away from an open fire was dangerous
the whole Delta knew, yet how else to survive in that devastated place where millions of barrels of oil are suctioned up by the gargantuan drills of the oil companies from thousands of metres down into the earth to provide precious energy for the rest of the planet
while the land that produces it is left to rot
when Bummi’s papa passed, the plot of land he owned where they farmed cassava and yam was taken by his relatives in broad daylight
you were his traditional wife, not his legal one, they shouted at Iyatunde, as they all descended on her hut directly after his funeral
commot for dis place now-now, dis na our property now, we no wan see your leg here again, you no get anything to do for this place!
Bummi remembers the long walk with Mama through the forest to her grandparents’ home
carrying their possessions in two baskets upon their heads
back in the small-small hut where Mama’s life began, her grandfather informed them he was going to marry Bummi off as soon as she reached puberty
she go don ready soon, I fit manage that dowry moni, it go solve plenty problem for me, this one wey pocket dry everywhere
that night Mama told her that she was not going to allow her father to force his traditional way of life on to her child, just as he had chosen her own husband for herself when she was fourteen
the next morning, with the little money she and Moses had saved tied up in the folds of her wrappa, she took Bummi by the hand before her father woke up
and they fled the orange gas flares of the refineries burning twenty-four hours a day into the humid skyline for hundreds of miles
they fled the toxic fumes that made breathing the very air difficult because to inhale deeply was to die slowly
they fled the acid rain that made the water undrinkable
they fled the oil spills poisoning the crops, the diseased fisheries in the soupy creeks, the fishing baskets lifted out of the water congealed with gummy black oil
crayfish, crab, lobster – don die
swordfish, cat-fish, croakers – don die
barracuda, bongashad, pampano – don die
they started the journey to Lagos where they moved into Makoko-on-Water and shared a bamboo hut on stilts with another family, with a platform for sitting outside and a shared canoe to steer through the dark and dirty waters
Mama asked for work everywhere in the crowded city of Lagos, with Bummi trailing behind her feeling so ashamed of her dirty old clothes and blackened flip-flops
she hated the big city with its noise and the filthy exhausts of the city cars that tried to run her over
at first Mama tried to peddle roast corn and puff-puff on the streets until the other traders chased her away, this na our market, commot!
Bummi watched her mama humiliate herself begging for work, they arrived at a local sawmill where trees that had been felled in the interior were lashed together to form floating forests that were towed downstream to the city
her mama found the supervisor, Labi, walked boldly up to him, told him she was as strong as any man, could he not see her powerful arms from farming?
Oga, I get pikin wey mus’ chop, I fit do this work, I no dey go anywhere, just give me work, abeg
Mama worked six days a week in the deafening din and dust of the sawmill where she said the men got used to her once they saw she worked harder than they did
then one day Labi said she did not need to carry planks of wood on her head any more, it was donkey work for idiots, and she was not an idiot, she could help operate the buzz saw
at first Mama was happy until she came home shaking her head, saying, dat man, im tell me say no free lunch-o
I go give us betta life and commot us for this suffer
we go still survive, my pikin
weekdays Bummi was collected by canoe to take her to the floating school on the lagoon, where the teacher collected the fees for his salary as soon as each child arrived, or they were sent home
it never happened to her because Mama would rather go without food than have her miss a single class
she told Bummi she was being ferried towards an education, towards an educated husband and an educated job sitting down at a desk that paid good money so that if her future husband died, she could support herself and her children
until the unthinkable happened when Bummi was fifteen
Mama slipped while trying to fix a cranky, steam-powered saw at the end of a shift and did not move quickly enough when its teeth whirred viciously back into action
Labi came to school to tell Bummi the bad news
she remembers collapsing on to the bamboo slats of the school’s floor and crying into the waves churning below, she remembers getting into the canoe and being taken back to her hut where she curled into a ball
she remembers being told by Labi that he had paid her rent and schooling for one month while he sought out relatives, na because of your mama, I dey do this thing for you-o
he located a distant cousin, Aunty Ekio, who offered housework and childcare duties in exchange for accommodation and an education
Bummi was relieved she’d no longer have to survive on her own back in Lagos
men were coming for her when she went shopping alone in the market
including one big oga with one big belly in one big car who offered to set her up as his concubine
while blowing cigar smoke in her face
exclusive contract only
Aunty Ekio came to the front door of her concrete house when Bummi knocked on it, raw with grief, and flung herself prostrate on the ground in respectful greeting, upset that her aunty did not in turn greet her as a long-lost relative
you should be grateful I took you in, Aunty Ekio said, showing Bummi her three-level concrete house, the first time Bummi had been inside a home not made of bamboo, with rooms that led into other rooms
such as one called a nursery for the children to play with their toys
and a ‘walk-in wardrobe’ for Mrs Ekio
Bummi soon discovered her aunty spent her days reading fashion magazines, going to the beauty salon, ‘lunching with the ladies’, cooking when she had to, and watching videos
Bummi had to be on call before and after school
Boomeee!!! Aunty Ekio shouted for her morning tea in bed, or if the furniture was not polished enough, or the children had messed up their clothes, or she wanted help in the kitchen, or for Bummi to change the television channel for her, or she needed something from the market