KAMBILI

"My, my, what beautiful children you have. Look at them! You must feel incredibly blessed, you know."

"Of course I am! I have a wonderful, doting husband who adores me, and three beautiful children who are constantly making me proud, especially my first and last."

"Oh? Why is that?"

A self-satisfied smirk, an adjustment of the posterior on the seat, and a slight raise of the shoulders.

"You see, my first is such a genius. He had seven A's in the WAEC examinations and scored so high on his SATS! And the schools at the last education fair were practically fighting over him! I mean, after he wrote his theory on why machines do something to the economy...all these plenty plenty grammar... they simply had to send their representatives to meet with him. And myself and his father of course. It was such a fun day, and important too. The chef prepared only the best. Now we're stuck with a choice, I would prefer that he goes to Harvard, but he has set his sights on Stanford, or MIT. Says he wants to study something about the internet...I forget what it is."

Ooohs and ahhs and headshakes.

All in the right places.

A careful sip of the drink, and the right expression that says, "go on."

"And my last child? I am so proud of her! She is currently doing her A levels and studying for the SATs at the same time. She's so responsible, and straightforward, nobody has ever said anything bad about her. She heads a social entrepreneurship project for the Rotary Club, and she sings lead in the church choir. What more could I ask for?"

Awwwws. Saccharine smiles. Careful pats on the hands. And then,

"But what about Kambili?"

"Kambili? Honestly, I do not want to talk about her. That girl has brought me nothing but grief since day one."

The tone is belligerent now, angry even.

"She has never shown the leadership qualities that her siblings have. She is always in her room, muttering to herself and reading God knows what! She doesn't even have friends, and her siblings have tons of friends! I mean, this girl hides whenever we have visitors. It doesn't matter what I say, I have talked and talked and talked, and nothing has changed. How can a child of seventeen be behaving like that?"

"Oh. You know these kids now. They are all different and what appeals to one doesn't appeal to another. She probably is just shy. Or something...."

"Kambili is not shy. She is just a spoilt child that is refusing to grow up. Imagine, the other day, she was saying I never ask her what she wants, that I only have eyes for Kosi and Kainene. Imagine that! The twat was accusing me of favoritism!"

"Wow. Such boldness. In my day, my mother would have slapped you so hard, such thoughts would instantly evaporate."

"Not so?! I looked at her, as in, I really looked at her and I was wondering if they switched my baby at the hospital o, because this girl doesn't have any sense of fashion! Chei! They say a lion cannot give birth to a goat, but it appears that I have given birth to a donkey!"

Loud laughter.

Mocking laughter.

And the slapping of hands, high fives all around.

Mother is the Queen. She is holding court, and her attendants' twitter and flutter, boast and flatter. Insincerity is the watchword here.

Kosi is the One. The favored one. My father's son. The son of his right arm. Kosi will go abroad to study Machine Learning and Analytics at MIT, or if Papa succeeds, Economics and Business Management at Stanford, so that he can come back and make Chisco Holdings the biggest conglomerate in the country.

Kainene is the princess. She's the miracle child, the one that the Holy Father sprinkled holy water on. Mama has framed the dress she wore that day. Kainene is jovial, a friendly shark, and wants to be a lawyer. She has her life planned: graduate from Harvard Law at 23, marry at 25, have two children at 30, and become Chief Justice at 49. She says 50 is too round a number.

Me, Kambili?

I don't know who I am.

I am in the middle.

The End.

Whew.

Many people feel like Kambili.

Many people have felt like Kambili.

Many people will feel like Kambili.

Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.

Just look at those eyes.