Ninety-nine days for the thief and one day for the owner.

This was all I could think about, after eavesdropping on Mama’s conversation with Aunty Sali. They had been in the kitchen for too long, and I knew getting food for Uncle Tunde—Aunty Sali’s husband—didn’t have to take so much time.

The day before the party was Salon day. Mma Sekirat had just finished washing and setting Mma Nancy’s hair, and I watched as she told Mma Sekirat how good the Olive Relaxer she recommended had worked wonders for her hair. She boasted about how she hadn’t relaxed her hair in 6 months, while admiring the hairstyle Mma Sekirat was making on her head. I thought it looked outrageous. 

Mma Sekirat, popularly known as “Mma Salon” was the first to open a salon, and most of the young hairdressers started their journey learning at her feet. The wives of the townsmen adored her, and she was patronized heavily during special occasions. 

I had followed my mother to the salon that afternoon to avoid taking part in the cooking at home. My older sister, Jenny, had graduated medical school, and my mother had invited the whole world to celebrate with her. 

Jenny was the star of the family. As a child, she won all the awards, including the overall best student. She was that child every parent prayed for, and the woman every man wanted beside them: average height, light-skinned, independent, and extremely beautiful, with curves that were to die for. Even I, Chi, would have fallen for her.

“You should be helping others at home,” mama said, as she interrupted my minutes of thinking.

“I’m tired, ma. Don’t worry, they’ll get everything done before we’re back.”

“By getting everything done, you mean stealing all the fried meat and chicken reserved for my high table guests, abi?” she snapped back.

“Whatever,” I whispered under my breath.

The shrrrr sound from the hair dryer had finally stopped, indicating it was mama’s turn to be attended to. Mama spent about ten minutes explaining to Mma Sekirat how she wanted her hair made; the number of braids to plait, when she wanted curls, and how tight she liked it. She even came with her own hair comb and special ori to ease the braiding process.

Mma Sekirat took mighty molds of ori and massaged it into mama’s hair, moving her fingers through the strands of black and grey follicles. Braid by braid, I watched as she tore each section of hair into seven smaller sections, and braided with her strong, wrinkling fingers.

Seven hours later, mama was done, and we were to take the bus home.

—-

Jenny never wanted to be a medical doctor. She always gushed about how much she loved Architecture and the process of bringing people’s house plans to life. She was so good at drawing, but Papa said he wanted her to be the doctor he couldn’t become, due to his polygamous family and abject poverty.

“Architecture is good o, but when you become a Medical Doctor, many people will love and respect you. They will always come to you for help, and at the end of the month, you’ll receive pleeeeeennnnnnttttttttyyyyy money to share with your family,” said Papa one evening after the daily evening devotion.

Jenny didn’t want to let him down. She couldn’t. I didn’t understand if it was because she loved him too much or because she feared him.

If I was in her shoes, I would have followed my instincts. Papa knew this, and never advised me on anything relating to school. I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life, and Papa didn’t seem to care so much, so I never went to the University. Staying home and spending his money was my go-to.

—-

“Sandy how many pots of egusi did you make?” mama shouted.

It was the day of the occasion, and mama barely slept. She was up as early as 2 a.m. counting the fried meat, one after the other, to make sure it was the proposed 700 pieces meant for the occasion that was still existing.

“Three pots of soup, ma, and three pots of rice. Party jollof, coconut, and native rice,” Sandy replied.

“Make sure Agbor has brought all the cartons of beer and soft drinks for the occasion, you hear?. This is an important day for my favorite daughter. I don’t want to be disgraced.”

“Okay, ma. Let me go and check the store,” Sandy replied.

—-

People began to troop in by 3 p.m. The first set of people were Jenny’s best friends, Ada and Jumoke. They all met on the first day of University, and have been inseparable since. Ada was fair, with the tiniest frame and thick medicated glasses that showed she read her life away. She was a bit unfriendly, so we just never got along. 

Jumoke on the other hand was the tallest of the three, dark-complexioned, busty, and full of tales about University and Medical school. I always looked forward to her visits every Friday evening, because I knew there was going to be hot gist about the crazy things those medical students did in school. I heard one time that one of their course mates never went to school, and paid her way through University in cash and kind. 

“Ahhh, wonders shall never end o!” I exclaimed as Jumoke and I gisted.

Fuji music blasted through the speakers. Relatives, friends, neighbors, and people I knew had no ties with my family, filled the dance floor. The whole compound reeked of a mixture of flavors of the different food being eaten by the guests. I sat down with Jumoke, talking about her plans for the future, and when she’d like to get married. 

“Jenny, have you given your friends food?” mama asked as she passed by us.

“Not yet, ma. They ate when they came so they aren’t hungry yet,” Jenny replied.

“Ah! No, no, no. Even if it’s meat, give them to chew. It isn’t fair for them to be sitting with their mouths static like that.”

We all burst into laughter, as Jenny went to the store to get fried meat and soft drinks that mama had hidden for special guests and family.

—-

“But who would have thought that a baby you stole 26 years ago will turn out so amazing like this,” Aunty Sali said. She is mama’s elder sister, who had come all the way from Aba.

“Hush Sali,” said mama, as she ran to cover her mouth. “Why will you say a thing like that? Don’t you have the fear of God?”

“But am I lying?”

“The walls have ears. Sali. Keep your mouth shut. Shotigbo?”

“You owe me o. To think you wanted to take the boy in the cot beside her. Maybe that one would have become a drug addict.”

“That boy would have been very handsome. I just know it. Abeg, bring plate so I can put food for your husband.”

The sound of a broken plate came from the store. Mama and Aunty Sali froze in shock.

“My life is over. My life is over!” mama screamed, as Jenny walked out.