It is a fragile cup, this one.
It is made from glass, and reflects the light.
Mostly the rainbow, shimmering and zigzagging.
But glass cups do not last forever.
One careless push, a mindless swerve of the knee against the table on which they perch,
And they're gone forever.
Glue cannot put the shards back together.
Osi is my mother's son.
The one that she makes abacha ncha for, peppered snails too and fufu and nsala.
He is the one my father sells his yams and palm trees and cassava for.
Osi is the pride of Teacher Nsogbu, the one that always comes to the compound for news of Osi.
Osi is coming home, finally.
Osi.
Father's engineer and doctor and lawyer.
It was impossible for father to decide what he wanted his Sun to study.
Mother wants to be called Mama Doctor or Mama Barrister by the women in the CWO.
She said that Osi would choose the most noble profession, and in so doing, he would help her and her sisters reclaim their father's lands from their thieving uncles.
Osi has come home.
Everyone is gathered in our compound, it is an effusion of love, but we will never call it that.
The L word is not one that we are comfortable with.
Chief Mbanefo and his daughter, Daisy, are seated in the center of everything and everyone.
Yes, my father has found a wife for Osi, and today is the engagement ceremony also.
Daisy is light skinned, has halitosis and speaks English the way a been-to does.
Felicia calls her evil on two feet.
Will, like water, is unstoppable.
You may erect a dam to hold it back, you may decide to landfill,
But in the end, water will flow the way it wants to.
It will rage and roar and scream and destroy.
And then, it will calm.
Our father is sitting on the floor, he has no words.
The women from the CWO comfort our mother, it is of no use.
She, like Rachel, refuses to be comforted.
Chief Mbanefo and Daisy are not here.
Teacher Nsogbu has a sad smile on his face. He knew.
We, the siblings, watch the scene with varying degrees of sadness. Afam is eating peppered snails.
Osi came home, finally.
With a bachelor's degree in English Literature and an offer to publish his short story collection from a publishing house in London.
He also brought Sindara, his wife.
Her belly pushed its way forward out of the car before the rest of her did.
Happiness, like water, has caused much sorrow.
The End.
Whew.
At the end of writing this one, I had goosebumps all over my body. I was in awe of myself.
Whew.
At one point, you were Osi.
If you like this, please share it.
T for Tenks.
This photo belongs to Samir Jammal on Pexels.
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