[It is a sunny Sunday
afternoon. A young woman is sprawled on the bed exhausted in a non-lit room.
Her eyes are closed, her arms are spread out, and her legs are dangling. The
flat screen tv on her dresser is playing a Nigerian movie, and the audio is on
low. We hear the buzz of the air-conditioner and her lazy breathing. She has
just completed the first part of her chores. Clean clothes are in the laundry
bag waiting to be folder, her stew for the week is simmering in the kitchen,
and the bathroom light is on with cleaning products in the entrance].
[Her phone vibrates.
She opens her eyes, turns her head and places the phone upright. Her
expressionless face is now one of defeat. She closes her eyes and sighs
painfully to prepare her for what will follow next. She picks the call]
Kemi: Hello
Voice: (with warm
excitement): “Hello Labake, how are you doing my dear?”
Kemi: (sits upright,
looking forlorn to her left): “I’m okay, how are you?”
Voice (continues with
warmth in her voice): “Happy Sunday. We are doing fine. I just wanted to check
on you. How is your Sunday?”
Kemi (gets up and
moves to the pile of clean clothes): “It’s okay, not too bad”
Voice (with a tinge of
sadness and longing): “Hmm.. we are doing okay oh. Thank God. We’ve managed to
cook something small to eat. It has been raining a lot and it finally stopped
today.”
Kemi (begins to start
folding clothes with the phone tucked between her ear and shoulder): “Oh-ohh,
do you guys have light?”
Voice (forlornly): “Ah
no, they haven’t brought light for some days now. But we have the gen. And even
me sef, I haven’t been feeling too well. But what can we do? There’s no money
to go to the doctor. My hand has been aching and I think I came down with
malaria sef. And there’s no food in the house even…” (trails on)
[Kemi's expression
changes to one of annoyance, and she puts the phone on speaker and on mute and
walks out to the kitchen. As the voice continues lamenting the lack of money,
she stirs the meat stew and turns off the stove. Then she heads to the bathroom
where we a tub stained with cleaner, and the scrubs it down. She taps the mute
button to respond with a few “mmh-mmhms”, “eeya”, “oh that’s bad”.]
Voice (continues
piling on): “You know the house rent is coming due soon. And your brother is
starting NYSC so we have to buy somethings for him. And mama keeps saying hello
and always asks what did you bring her..”
Kemi (with phone on
mute, shouts angrily): “I SENT YOU MONEY LAST MONTH, WHAT THE FUCK!”
[Her roommate opens
her bedroom door with a ceramic bowl in hand and heads to the kitchen not
paying attention to Kemi and her family woes. Kemi sighs.
Voice (stops
suddenly): “Kemi, are you there?”
Kemi (dejectedly):
“Yes I’m here. I’m listening..”
Voice (in high
spirits): “Eh-ehn, as I was saying. And we have the funeral for Iya Tope’s
husband coming up as well. They have been through so much so we have to help
them. And there’s the wedding for Baba Tolu –ah, that man has done a lot for
this family especially when we were living in Mushin."
[Kemi is back in her
room staring at the clean clothes she planned to fold. As the voice continues,
she heads to her desk table, sits down and grabs a pen from a small
three-tiered storage bin and starts writing on a nearby writing pad. The pad is
a stationary from some diversity event she had attended.]
Kemi (drained): “So
that’s how much now?”
Voice (speaking
plainly): “So that will be 600 for the house rent, 200 for your brother’s NYSC,
let’s say 50 for the funeral, another 50 for the wedding…”
[The voice now changes
tone to a light-hearted one and chuckles slightly. Kemi is visibly annoyed and
rolls her eyes.]
Voice (teasingly):
“Ehn you know you have to add some for us too now”
Kemi (trying to hide
her annoyance): “Speak clearly, because I don’t understand. I don’t live there
so I don’t know how much things cost or what would be enough or not.
Voice (slightly
alarmed): “Ah! O ti ya bin, ah ma binu. Sorry my dear, I’m just saying to add
something for us, you know there is no food at home.
Kemi (facepalms):
“Just give me an amount”
Voice (forlornly): “Ah
whatever you can manage is fine”
Kemi (not amused):
“And if one-thousand naira is all I can manage nko?”
Voice (pleadingly):
“Ah ahn Labake, don’t do that now. Okay – put sixty thousand for us for the
rest of the year. Oh sorry my dear.”
Kemi (writes numbers
down, pulls out calculator beside her): “Okay, send me these amounts on
Whatsapp and I’ll let you know when I’ll send the amounts."
Voice (gladly): "Ah thank you my dear. Omo a ke iwo no, o ni shile ya (several prayers for her
success and to not meet badluck).
[Kemi looks sad and
depressed while her mother prays.]
Kemi: “Okay, I’ll talk
to you later. Bye Bye”
Voice (happy): “Okay
bye my dear, take care. Have a blessed week”
[Kemi hangs up and
collapses on the bed. She crawls underneath the covers and pulls her phone
closer to her. The twitter app shows and she’s mindlessly scrolling through her
timeline.]
[Fades out]
