“I would rather die than take any form of disrespect from that small boy!...Ogìni di? Is he the only money miss road in this world?” My father yelled

“You are just making noise…I said you’re just making noise!..there’s nothing significant that comes from you, not even your words…taah, sìe bá puór” my Uncle replied, ensuring his voice was louder than my father’s

Christmas in Ntalakwu was fun when I was much younger, there was always a thanksgiving service which was succeeded by a barbeque in the evening, all my aunts and uncles would sit outside with Nne, my grandmother, for breakfast every other morning, reminiscing their childhood memories and calling out each other on their naughty behaviours, while my cousins and me ran around the compound playing games or visiting other villagers with Uncle Ifeanyi, the last child of the Chukwu family. But it soon began to feel like a competition for the most vile, most successful and most tolerable, because they always fought and argued. There was no laughter or fun, except from us the children, while the adults went on like they were mandated to spend the time together.

It had been a long heated argument between my father and Uncle, one that frightened everyone, especially me because I thought they would get physical or destroy things. Kobim stood between both men, crying uncontrollably and I think his mother or any other woman in the house was too scared to walk into what had become a battlefield for the men. Ezinne, my cousin whom her mother loved calling Zinny and often scolded anyone who called her by her full name, quietly snuck into the room I shared with my parents, tiptoeing onto the bed where I was now sitting and snuggled beside me, afraid that any sudden movements or sound could attract the fighting men, especially our Uncle. He had probably had a bad night’s rest because he woke up rather grumpy, huffing and puffing like a wolf that had been starving for a while and scolding everyone in his sight, including his precious daughter, Kamsi. It was after he yelled at her that the rest of us truly understood how sour his mood was and tried our best to stay out of his way. I could’ve sworn that a failed or delayed business transaction had a lot to do with his mood as he did not joke with money. “Money answers all things.” he would always say in those long family meetings that I or any other child wasn’t allowed to attend, but eavesdropped on anyways. I knew that he loathed my father, although I couldn’t fathom the reason, seeing that my father was the nicest man I had ever met. Not that I’m being bias because he is my father, it was the truth. My mum often said that it was one of the reasons she fell in love with him. He always put others first and accorded even his obvious junior the respect they deserved, so it was a mystery why my uncle just couldn’t stand him. 

He had been picking on my family since we arrived Ntalakwu, my mother’s village for the festivities. Starting with commenting on how badly we all looked, “like we were poorly fed” he emphasized and went on to give my father who was clearly his senior, unsolicited advice about business, family and life in general. I could see the pain in his eyes as my father endured his brother in-law’s ridicule without saying anything. He rather focused on my cousins who had rushed out to welcome us, complimenting their looks and outfits. Although he wanted us in Abba, his own home town in Imo state, especially since we had not gone in three consecutive years and because they held an annual carnival that had a lot of Naija’s top musicians in attendance which he considered fun for all of us, my mother had insisted on Abia state; and because I always looked forward to all the stories of Lagos Zinny had to tell me and all the pranks Obichukwu would pull on everyone, I joined her in pleading with my father to let us come to Ntalakwu, that didn’t seem welcoming at all.

Ntalakwu, the last village in Bende Local Government Area of Abia state was the home and birth place of my mother and her three siblings, Uncle Chidi, Aunty Olanma and Uncle Ifeanyi. She was the first child of the late Ozo Livinus Chukwu, my grandfather who died when she was about sitting for her Senior Certificate Exams after a long illness. She had had to hold off on her plans to further her education and help her mother, my grandmother in her shop where she sold groceries and some farm produce, who also died after Kamsi, Uncle Chidi’s daughter was born. Being the eldest child, she catered to the needs of everybody before considering herself and it was when she met my father, Mr. Cletus Obinna, the “Electronics Giant of Umuahia” as he was fondly called, that he helped her through nursing college before marrying her and moving to Umuahia, the state’s capital. I often asked what had transpired between herself and her siblings that made them turn on each other the way they did, but she seldom had any satisfactory answers. Her answers were vague and sometimes she gave no response at all. “Rapum’aka biko …You’re too young to be concerned about all this” she would say and it always stung. I wasn’t too young to help with chores, inform my principal that my school fees would be delayed, get Kaima and Tobe ready for school and even oversee daddy’s shop in the market, when he had to attend to important businesses for hours, but I was considered too young to understand my mother’s feud with her family? It often infuriated me, when those words came out of her mouth, but I’d never done or said anything about it.

She walked into the room exasperated from the futility of trying to settle a lost battle. Neither Uncle Chidi not my father would listen to reason at that point and she knew it, yet she kept trying to broker peace between them. 

 “Zinny your mother is looking for you” she said without glancing at us. She walked straight to the wardrobe, brought down our boxes from the top, opened it and started taking out the clothes in the wardrobe. 

“Zinny go to your mother now!” she yelled angrily and Zinny stormed out of the room. Although there was no anger in her eyes, just exhaustion. 

 “Will you come and help me with these clothes?...your father wants us out of here in ten minutes”

 “Is it because of what uncle Chidi said?” I asked naively picking a dress to fold

“Can’t he apologize?...Why are they always fighting and why does he like picking on daddy?”

“Can you fold quickly and stop asking stupid questions?” She snapped.

I know they say that the mother’s side of the family is always the best, but in my case, I’d rather be in Abba every single time, although it would mean missing my amazing cousins, who unlike me couldn’t care less about why our parents were always at loggerheads. 

Abba, a large community in Nwangele Local Government Area of Imo state, Nigeria was my home town. Well, my father's home and our village was precisely Umuokpara, but we loved telling people “Abba” when they asked where we came from. It is a large town with about twenty-eight villages and home to a lot of prominent people in the country. They held an annual Christmas carnival that had both young and old in attendance, masquerade displays, football competitions and a lot of fun activities. There was never a boring moment during Christmas. Unless you don’t have money, you’d always find a fun activity to engage in. But it never felt like home to me as everyone was out and about looking for where to go and have fun. There were no family moments or gatherings, my cousins here didn’t do dishes or play games and we’re always on their phones or doing their own things.

My mother and I finished packing all our stuff, save the food stuffs and groceries we had brought for the general family use, four days after we had arrived Ntalakwu and two days before Christmas and walked quietly into our car. My father was already inside, with the ignition on. I wanted to at least say goodbye to Obichukwu, wanted to go to see the masquerade with Uncle Ifeanyi who had not even arrived the village yet and mostly, I wanted to beg daddy to forgive Uncle Chidi and let us stay back. Kaima was clearly oblivious of her environment or what was going on. She waved goodbye to everyone watching us and kept yelling “see you next year! We’re going to Abba!

**************

I couldn’t believe what my mother had told me, Aunty Olanma had asked that Kaima and I spent the long August break with them in Lagos. Although I could see the lack of enthusiasm in her expression, my father was stoic and didn’t interfere or comment about it. It was solely her decision and I already knew what his stance was. After three years of avoiding my maternal family, she had probably considered the effect such feud could have on the next generation of her family and decided that we obliged aunty Olanma, who had already bought tickets for Peace Air and we were to travel on the first weekend in August.

I knew my father wasn’t particularly happy about sending his daughters over to Lagos to spend the holidays with people who had continuously disrespected him and his family, but I also knew that he would never try to pull his children away from their cousins or encourage enmity between children who knew little or nothing of the root of their long lasting feud. Neither of us pushed the topic further, so we sat silently for about thirty minutes before he urged me to go to sleep. 

“I think Zinny has successfully damaged one of my ear drums” I announced on our way home and aunty Olanma laughed and for the first time, I saw a part of her that I had never seen before, this part was definitely “Zinny’s mum” the kindness in her eyes, softness in her words and warmth in her aura.

“How’s Umuahia?…How’s your school?...are you now a hot Uniport girl?...do you have a roommate?” she asked with childish enthusiasm that made me remember what we had been missing for three years. Although we chatted on WhatsApp regularly and even sent each other memes on Instagram, there was something about physical presence that we had missed and she, more than me, was not discomfited about expressing her feelings the way she deemed fit.

Aunty Olanma's husband was a very wealthy business mogul, but I hadn’t comprehended the level of his wealth until we drove into their enormous mansion. It was probably too large for four people, yet my house which was a small bungalow, housed five people and my father made Kaima and me share a bedroom. 

I slowly began to understand why the other men in the market considered him a stingy man. “Would it kill him to build a house like this?” I thought, looking in awe at the gigantic structure before me. I knew that my father was very wealthy, but he would constantly call certain luxuries “wasteful” or “vanity”

“Are you going to stand there all day or will you come inside?” Zinny said bringing me back to reality.

The house was so beautiful and welcoming. I knew that Aunty Olanma had high standards, but this was a discovery. We settled in that day, as Zinny promised us a holiday of our lives. Even though I didn’t completely believe her since she wasn’t the one making decisions. I simply looked forward to having a good time. At least I knew that I couldn’t have a bad time in a house like that. 

I soon learnt that Zinny’s father was in Switzerland for a business summit, that Aunty Olanma owned about two shopping plazas and ran one of the biggest interior decorations companies in Lagos, that catered to most of the elites in the state and even in other states. She also had friends in high places, including the children of celebrities. Although Zinny’s complaints of not always enjoying the company of most of them was shocking to me, it made her mother worried about her social life.

There were a lot of similarities between my mother and aunty Olanma and being the only sister to my mother, I couldn’t help but wonder why they couldn’t get along. Although they’d rather have their eyes gouged that admit these similarities, they were glaring. Aunty Olanma was prettier than my mother, taller and with a more defined figure, but she yelled and cursed out like my mother. She had schooled in the University of Lagos(UNILAG), which was where I often assumed she met her husband, whom she rarely talked about and who was rarely at any family function. Well, her family functions because he was always with his family and friends every other Christmas. I had only seen him in Ntalakwu twice and that was to drop his family off and head home to Aguata, his home town. Zinny always said they ended the festivities with him there, but I couldn’t bring myself to asking her why he never stayed in Ntalakwu, even if it was just for a night. 

The holiday was truly remarkable. Zinny was the best host and cousin as always, Kaima and Kamsi had diarrhoea more times than we could keep track of. They formed a tag-team that threw tantrums when they weren’t given what they wanted or allowed to join Zinny and me to wherever we went, even though they quickly got bored and nagged about wanting to go back home. Aunty Olanma was a completely different person from the cold, straight face aunt that came to Ntalakwu every Christmas. She was kind, considerate, funny and “cool” to be around. She told me stories of her time in the University, her experience during her compulsory National Service year and even fun activities she had with my mother. I had initially thought that she was only trying to make me feel comfortable, but after the first week, I realized that she was truly nice and laughed a lot. We even went to her office and I got to play personal assistant a few times. I always looked forward to going to her office and accompanying her to all the executive meetings she had with people I had only seen on TV.

“I’m coming to Umuahia to spend my first semester break with you people.” Zinny said over the phone with her usual enthusiastic tone.

“Are you serious?”

I was happy, but too shocked to believe that Aunty Olanma had agreed to it, without first informing my parents.

“Yes…mummy doesn’t mind, although she said that she’s not paying for my ticket” 

“Chai…that’s not fair, but don’t worry, I’ll tell my mum to pay for it, so that you don’t suffer on the road”

“No, no, no…I want it to be a surprise for your parents. I’m only telling you, so you’d prepare for me. I don’t want any excuses.”

That statement should have made me suspicious, sent off all the alarms in my head, made me tell my parents, my mum maybe, about Zinny’s plans or something, but I was elated with the news and against my better judgement and all the warning bells going off in my head, I kept the information to myself.

“Can’t wait to show you all the correct places in Umuahia, so you’d stop calling it an old people’s city” 

“It’s not a city Ziora…stop calling it that” 

“Whatever…see you soon.”

It took all of my strength and will power to conceal my excitement and keep Zinny’s surprise visit to myself

******

““Akunna! Akunna! Akunna open this door before I break it down!” Aunty Olanma’s voice and banging woke me and probably the entire estate up early the next morning.

“Where’s my Zinny? Akunna where’s my child?” She kept shouting after she was let in. I couldn’t bring myself to going out of my room or to even seeing a distraught aunty Olanma. 

“She’s not here!” my mum yelled back at her sister.

“Ziorachukwu! Ziora!” My mother yelled from the sitting room. 

“Her friends said that she told them she was coming to Umuahia to spend the break with her aunty and uncle, and I don’t know any other aunty she has in this place or do you?...do you? Akunna do you?” She yelled, but my mother gave no response. I knew she was waiting for me, but I couldn’t go to her.

“Olanma you need to calm down before you get sick or worse, we are going to find Zinny” my father said.

“Her friends said she told them she was coming to Umuahia to see you, meanwhile she told me that she was going to Abuja to see Chidi…I even paid for her flight ticket, only to find it in her drawer, which means that you asked her to come and now something bad has happened to her and you want to hide it…Akunna where is my child?”

“What does that have to do with me Ola…ehn? My mother replied angrily. She knew better than to exchange words with her sister, but I guess the situation made clarity of thought seem difficult “What does your inability to control your teenage daughter have to do with me Olanma? …I know that you’re going through a lot right now, I understand, but it doesn’t mean that you should accuse me of hurting your daughter. She’s like a daughter…”

“…like a daughter ehn? Akunna when did you ever treat her like a daughter? Did you attend her naming? What about her confirmation? Her matric nkor? like a daughter my foot…better start thinking of where you dropped her before I do something we would all regret”

I finally went and hid behind the curtain in the hallway and watched as my father stood there like a referee in a ring, watching the women

“You’re so selfish” Aunty Olanma said quietly, like a thought that slipped her mind

“Selfish? …After all I did for you and every other person Ozo Chukwu left behind after his death? You are just wicked and I’m starting to…”

“...No one asked you to Akunna! No one asked you to do the so called things you did for us!...besides, you didn’t let us hear the last of it, reminding us every single time of how much we owe our lives to you!” Aunty Olanma yelled at her, rising to her feet.

I couldn’t take any more of the argument, so I looked out of the curtain and met my father’s eyes, pleading with him to stop them, but he signaled that I go back to my room. 

I was heading back to my room when Kaima brought my ringing phone to me.

“She’s in St. Patrick’s hospital!” I announced after dropping the call.

“What?” everyone in the room yelled

“They said she was involved in an accident and has been in the hospital for two days.” I said, not taking my eyes off of my father who I knew was either going to disown me or send me to a seminary after the whole ordeal because he looked rather suspicious of me.

My father drove like a man being chased by gunmen, breaking too many traffic rules and in less than twenty minutes, we drove into the large hospital, to find Uncle Chidi standing in the lobby, waiting. Apparently, aunty Olanma had told him what she had learnt from Zinny’s friends and he had flown in to Umuahia with the first flight. She also called him on our way to the hospital, which explains his getting there before us. 

Zinny had lost a lot of blood and needed transfusion. They were going to wait for her father who was a match with her, but he didn't come in time, so my mother donated a pint for her.

He came the next day and uncle Chidi punched him on his face, warning him to stay away and hurling insults at him. “Typical uncle Chidi” I thought as I watched Mr. Dozie shamefully walk away.

I don’t know how God wired him, but in the department of “bad mouth”, my uncle was abundantly blessed. He could talk down anybody and anything. Could make a person fall into depression by just insulting them. “I haven’t even said any bad thing yet and you are crying” he always said when he cursed out some of the villagers in Ntalakwu. What always bemused me was that his strength was proportional to his mouth. Maybe even more, because he never backed away from physical fights.

My father was finally able to calm him down and take him to another area in the hospital, away from the rest of us, where they stayed for almost two hours. My mother and aunty Olanma however, sat by Zinny all day in the private ward that she had been moved to. While I babysat all the children, Kaima and Naza, Zinny’s younger sister whom her father had brought with him.

Zinny stayed in the hospital for five more days and Aunty Olanma stayed at home with us throughout that time. She sorted out her issues with my mother, but it felt like they had placed a bet on who could frustrate me more. I knew I had messed up, but they kept seeking out ways to yell at me, pick on a mistake I had made or refer to my irresponsible behaviour that almost killed my cousin and my father was silent about it. I would’ve believed he enjoyed the torment I was going through, had I not known him better. 

********

The journey through the different villages to Ntalakwu was phenomenal. Although a very long journey, it was worth the distance. There was no air of apprehension from my mother, my father wasn’t hissing and sighing as we got close or muttering to himself as he always did, he just sang along to the Gozie Okeke track playing through the car radio.

Uncle Chidi and my father had planned the entire Christmas activities, including the barbeque, a party, games and even new year’s Eve event that they termed “a secret.” I didn’t know what had happened between my father and Uncle or how it happened, but I was sure that it happened that day Mr. Dozie came to the hospital. Whatever they did or spoke about for the time they spent away from the rest of us, was worth it. They had somehow settled their differences without a third party.

His family arrived two days after we did because their flight had been cancelled and we did not hear the last of how inconsistent the aviation industry of Nigeria was. Obichukwu was way taller than I remembered him to be and was already growing facial hairs, but had not given up his attitude of being a prankster. He made Naza almost hit her head in fear when he told her a snake was coiled under the bench she was lying on and hid my air pods for two days because “I was forming posh for him.” Meanwhile aunty Olanma had almost finalized her divorce with her husband and had moved into a house she bought. Everyone except Uncle Chidi consoled her. “That man has always been a goat…Nkpi” he kept saying.

Although the Thanksgiving service was exhausting, I had never felt so happy about Christmas in a long time and deep down I was grateful for Zinny’s accident, not that she was in an accident, but that it happened, because it was what brought my maternal family together again. Aunty Olanma, Uncle Chidi’s wife and my mother were together in the kitchen, my father and the other men including Uncle Chidi were drinking from the same keg of palm wine and we were hosting a party in our compound.

“We would have a huge carnival next year!” Uncle Chidi declared

 “Ntalakwu Carnival! Like the one in Abba?” Kaima added enthusiastically, making everybody laugh. This was the Christmas I had longed for.