Last updated on April 15th, 2024 at 07:45 am
“Jubrillll.” My mother screams. I can’t say the exact reason why she screams, it’s not like I’m far from her. I dust my hands on my shorts and run into the house. She screams my name again just as I answer her.
“Ma. I’m here.” I almost roll my eyes. I dare not. Adults sometimes act like kids, yet they never stop scolding us. Scolding. It’s a new word I learnt during the week. Our English teacher always uses heavy words and when we ask her what she means, she refers us to the dictionary. I enjoy it though. I don’t show my classmates, so I’m not seen as an “I too know,” but I like it when Ms. Cee uses complex words.
“Take,” My mother stretches a thousand naira note at me, eyeing me as if she is fighting me. “Buy Pepper 200 naira, Maggi 50 naira, Melon 400 naira, and dried fish 300 naira from mummy Lukman.” I nod, but not too much so I don’t forget what she just said.
“If you like forget,” She says as if she can read my mind, truly, she knows everything. I shake my head to tell her that I won’t forget. I run into the bedroom to pick up my shirt. Many times I have attempted to deliver my mother’s errands shirtless and after getting very strong knocks on my head, I’ve learnt that my mother doesn’t like me being shirtless outside our compound. I never ask her the reason, I just obey. I’m about to open the door, when she says, “If you like forget.” Why do adults like repeating things? I sigh but in my mind. “What did I ask you to buy?” I repeat what she told me and I’m proud of myself.
“Okay,” She answers, sounding unsatisfied. I really don’t try to please my mother, I just do enough to avoid getting flogged. “If you like play, kick every ball you see on the street. I’m here waiting for you.”
I look down not knowing what to say. Seeing that she is now quiet, I open the door and run outside.
The school has been on break since. My mother says it’s been three weeks and we have three more to go. It feels like plenty of time to me. I slouch when I think of how much time I still have to be at home. I don’t like homework assignments, but I like school. I love it even. I get to see my friends and learn something new. I can also see other people. Since we stopped going to school, I have not seen so many people or my friends, I’m always in our compound. I don’t like it.
On my way to Mummy Lukman’s shop, I see a few of my schoolmates outside their house and wave at them. I don’t stop to play though. After the last time my mother beat me, I promised myself it wouldn’t happen again. I don’t know but I feel somehow when my mother flogs me, maybe because I’m now eleven.
I’m about to cut to mummy Lukman’s street when a man carrying a bible stops me. I’m not sure if he’s a pastor. But if he’s carrying a bible, maybe he is. I have to respect him then. Mummy says pastors are men of God. I asked her why she didn’t say my daddy is a man of God since he’s a man, she said it’s because he’s not a pastor. I asked her why, then she eyed me and I knew that I should keep quiet. Many questions in my head, but I don’t get answers to them.
“Good afternoon, sir.” I bend my head and touch my right hand to my right knee. Mummy says as a boy, I should be respectful to elders. I think a man of God will want extra respect. I’m thinking of prostrating and touching my chest to the floor, but my clothes will get dirty and mummy will beat me. So, I stay.
“God bless you.” The pastor says. I nod. I touch the money in my left pocket and hold it tight.
“Do you know Jesus?” The man of God asks me. I don’t know him like I know my friends, but in our Christian studies class, we were taught about him. We’re Muslims, though we don’t go to the mosque, so I can’t say I know too much about Jesus. My dad also forbids me from following my friends to their church. “Jubril, I forbid you from going to the church with your friends.” He often says whenever I attempt it.
“Not very well, sir,” I say to the pastor. “My teacher said he is the son of God and he turned water to wine.” I quickly add, so he doesn’t think I’m not brilliant. He doesn’t seem too pleased. I search my head for more things Mr. Isaiah taught us about Jesus, but I can’t remember. We stopped our Christian studies class in primary five and when we resume in three weeks, I’m going to JSS 2.
“Jesus is truly the son of God and without him, no one can get access to the Father. Do you know the father?” I shake my head. I just want to get the things my mother sent me and return home so I don’t get punished. This man doesn’t know my mother. He continues talking and I’m not listening. Spit starts flying out his mouth and he opens the bible. I shift from one leg to the other.
“Hell is real. But guess what? There’s heaven! For his obedient sons!” I want to ask about obedient daughters. I want to ask where heaven is located and even where hell is. I don’t want to go to hell, I’ve heard only bad stories about the place, but maybe I can see it from afar, on my way to heaven. I can’t ask this man though, I don’t think he likes to be interrupted. Just like our French teacher. I want to ask her why we learn French when I’ve not heard or seen any adult or any other teacher speak the language. We also stop learning the language in JSS 3, which means it’s not important. I stand up to ask her but every time, she says, “Don’t interrupt me,” so I sit down and write “Je m’appelle Jubril” on my book.
Now, I’m tired. How do you tell a man of God and an older person that you want to leave? I try to think of what my mum told me to buy—Pepper 200 naira, Maggi 50 naira, Melon, ummm. The pastor lays his hand on my head.
“Let’s pray. Say father, I’m sorry.” Because I was thinking of something else when the pastor was talking, I don’t understand what he now means. Who is father? Did my daddy report me to this man? But he says he doesn’t like men of God or Alfas for that matter.
“Father, I’m sorry,” I repeat. I try to think of what my mother sent me again as the man shakes my head and spits on my face. I raise my hand and wipe it off such that he doesn’t notice but his eyes are squeezed and closed. If he wasn’t holding my head, I’d have sneaked off. Pepper 250 naira, Maggi 50 naira, Melon 200 naira, ummm… there’s one more thing.
“Receive it! Receive it! Say amen!” The pastor continues.
“Amen! Amen!” I look around for anyone I know. Nobody is looking at us. Pepper umm. I start shaking now that I don’t remember what my mother sent me.
“Yes! Thank you, father! The deliverance is happening.” Deliverance? The pastor thinks I’m shaking because this is a deliverance session. Is satan in my body? I don’t know but my dad has gone to my school to warn the teachers not to conduct a deliverance session for me after I told him that pastors used to come to our school for prayers and deliverance. My mother says there is something in my head though. “That thing that’s in your head, when my cane touches your body, it will come out.” She says when she’s angry at me. I’m about to tell the pastor that my mother sent me to buy something, but he removes his hand from my head.
“Do you have any offering for God?” Offering? I grip my mother’s money in my pocket as my heart starts beating fast. I hope he doesn’t check my pocket.
“No no, sir.”
“Okay. You’re blessed.” He says and walks away. Pepper 300 naira, Maggi 50 naira, Melon 400 naira, umm, there is one more thing. I run fast to Mummy Lukman’s shop.
“I want to buy -”
“You cannot greet abi? Who is your mate here?” Mummy Lukman eyes me.
“Good afternoon, ma.”
“Oya, talk.”
“Pepper 400, Maggi 250, Melon…” I put my finger to my jaw as she sells the pepper and Maggi. She moves to the melon container and looks at me with her brow raised.
“Melon…200!” I say excitedly.
“Melon, 200?”
“There is no melon for 200 again.” She says. I scratch my head.
“How much is it?” I ask.
“400 for one cup.”
“Ok ok, melon 400.” She scoops one cup of melon into a black nylon.
“What else?” I know there’s one more thing. I look around her shop and spot crayfish. I think it’s crayfish, yes, it’s crayfish.
“Crayfish…” How much? I start to think again. “How much is one cup of crayfish?” I ask her.
“You’re wasting my time.” She answers.
“Okay, sell it.” She pours a cup into a nylon and I give her the 1,000 naira note with me. She looks at me as if she can now see the thing in my head that my mother always talks about.
“Pepper 400, Maggi 250, Melon 400, and crayfish and you’re giving me 1000?” I’m good at calculations, but I still have to write the numbers out. There is no biro and paper here, so I don’t know how much everything is.
“Emm, sell everything so that the 1,000 naira will be enough.” She looks at me and shakes her head, then removes from the pepper and the Maggi. Then packs everything into a bigger nylon and gives it to me. I take it and run as fast as my legs can carry me to the house.
“What took you so long?” My mother says as I get home.
“Umm,”
“You can’t talk abi? Give me the nylon.” She snatches the nylon from me and goes into the kitchen. I stop shaking thinking that I have escaped the punishment.
“Jubrilllll.” My mother screams as if she’s injured. I run into the kitchen.
“What did I ask you to buy?”
“Umm, melon 250…” My mother’s eyes look like they are about to set me on fire.
“Ehn?!” She screams as if I’m not right in front of her.
I’m definitely getting punished. At least, now I’ve used the word properly after many corrections from my English teacher—Definitely.
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