It’s unending

Last updated on March 21st, 2024 at 09:13 am

“Hello, Rahimat.” This doesn’t sound well. I drop my hand-fan because this call cannot allow for multitasking.

“Hello, ma. I can’t really hear you well.” Of course, the network is great. Of all the times for the network to be at its best. 

“Me I can hear you well. Loud and clear.” Trust Aunty Folusho to clear me. Hands down the most malicious person I’ve ever known. How she’s my mother’s sister, I still can’t explain.

“Alright, ma. But it’s not really clear here o.” 

“Ehn, me I can hear you. You have not come to any of the family meetings that we’ve had in five months. We that come have two heads abi? We that pay our dues don’t have sense shebi?” I stutter, not knowing what to say. So I settle for silence.

“Rahimat, answer me o.”

“Is this about my dues?” Wrong reply. Unfortunately, words when spoken cannot be retracted. Instead, I wait for my aunt’s tongue-lashing.

“Who said anything about money? The family bond doesn’t matter to you, abi?” I tune her out for a bit as the light goes off for the tenth time in the last twenty minutes. You bet I’m counting. I heave a sigh and return to the call.

“Aunty, I’m sorry. It’s work.” I interrupt my ranting and frustrated aunty.

“Ah, sorry o. Awon worker. We don’t have work na. Five family meetings and not one that you’ve attended. We are poor and smelly. Talk na.” I honestly don’t know what this woman wants from me. 

“Aunty Folusho, I’m sorry.” I attempt to assuage her. It most likely won’t work knowing my mother’s sister.

“That’s your headache,” Better than I thought. “You have fifteen thousand to pay as your dues. When are you sending it?” It is about money. I almost scream. It’s one of the reasons that I avoid the family meeting. 

My late grandfather had nine wives and thirty children. My mother’s family is huge. If you ask me, constantly wanting to be in each other’s business was bad for the family bond but it’s not something I can say. Aunty Folusho is right though, I stopped going to this meeting because it’s a waste of time; there was always a fight among the siblings, a physical fight or unnecessary information about who wasn’t feeding their kid with millet, this really happened. Apparently, our late grandfather believed that millet was a super meal for babies and had all his thirty kids eat millet when they were babies. This then became a tradition.

The other time, it was the thirteenth child saying that he had a dream that my late grandfather wasn’t happy with where he was buried. I roll my eyes thinking about it now. This man has been dead for more than ten years! We all had to contribute money immediately, apart from our dues, to make our late (grand)father happy. Mummy said he was exhumed and buried in a shady area in his compound. I shudder to even imagine it. Well, I haven’t been there since then.

I quickly check my account balance, not like I expected to have any reasonable amount.

“Aunty mi,” I say.

“Ehnehn?” She replies. Want an idea of the madness that’s our family meeting? Think of more than ten Aunty Folushos in the same gathering; loud, malicious, rude, and always ready to fight.

“I don’t have money now o, maybe when I-”

“I have borrowed you the money.” She cuts into my speech.

“Ahnahn, why now?” I say before I can stop myself.

“Why? Why yen na ni. That why is the reason. When should I expect my money?” She asks with a lot of entitlement. Knowing my aunt, that money will be paid. My major problem before the devil’s call was the erratic power supply which meant that I was baking in the heat, but problems can only exist in twos, that’s why I now have a debt of fifteen thousand naira awaiting my next salary.

“See, aunty mi, whenever they pay me,” I reply rudely, but I am too pissed to worry about her reaction.

“They should pay you fast o.” She says as if I can get my salary earlier than usual.

“After now, please reduce the dues that we the grandchildren pay o.”

“Come to the meeting to tell them.” She hisses and ends the call. 

I’ve tried more than once to talk during the meetings, but my voice was always submerged by the drama and noise. I drop my phone and resume fanning myself. Heat or debt, I can’t say which I prefer. Can I have none?