Excerpts from Obialunamma

The disparity between Enugu metropolis and other parts of the state was more than merely obvious, even the weather was completely different. Perhaps it’s just the atmosphere in her cosy New Heaven residence that is different, she couldn’t decide, she didn’t want to; that’s not the least of her worries. Nkechi was feeling a pang of uncertainty as she drove her silver Honda accord; for having to ship the little-bad cub off to the big-mad wolf, she knew it wasn’t a good idea but it was the only available option. Last year December even with her around to keep them both on their best behaviours, the havoc was still much more than a handful. Now she was letting them loose on the people without their chain, her; but she had to, she has to make this trip. This was the biggest breakthrough in her career, the urgency of it didn’t even bother her; it’s not every day that the government offers you such opportunity.

Fifteen years after school, Nkechi has a degree in medical psychology and physiotherapy, the little-bad cub Obialunamma; Oby short for Obialunamma and the big-mad wolf; her aged mother and retired mid-wife, Ekemma. She was working as a laboratory scientist at the State Teaching hospital. She’s very much convinced that these two when together always have a way of making things very interesting and making her life a lot more stressful (not that they were either aware or cared). She loved them all the same; how could she not, after all they were all she had. She was always thankful for them, what fate was gracious enough to leave her with; a mother and an amazing daughter from her school sweetheart who turned out not as sweet as she thought.

Oby is seven, going on eight. She knows she isn’t especially good at being seven. She knows she’s different. Her headmaster says she needs to “fall into line in order to fit in the same category with her peers.” Other adults describe her as “very grown-up for her age.” Oby knows this is just another way of saying “massively annoying for her age,” because they only tend to say this when she corrects them for mispronouncing a word wrong or not being able to tell the difference between “me” and “I” at the end of a sentence. Intelligent would be lauding her, hence the “grown-up for her age” comment, generally said with a strained smile at her mother as if she has a mental impairment. And that’s why she doesn’t have any friends except Granny. Because all the other seven-year-olds in her school are as idiotic as seven-year-olds tend to be, but Oby is different.

Ekemma or Granny as Oby always called her is seventy years old, going on seventy-one. She’s not very good at it either. You can tell she’s old because her face looks like newspaper stuffed into wet shoes, but no one ever accuses Granny of being grown-up for her age. “Perky,” people sometimes say to Nkechi, looking either fairly worried or fairly angry as she sighs and asks how much she owes for the damages. Or when Granny’s smoking at the hospital and they have to get the security guards make her extinguish her cigarette and she starts raving about fundamental human rights. Or that time those prim evangelists wearing spectacles started ringing all the doorbells and wanted to talk about God and Jesus and heaven, and Granny stood on Nkechi’s balcony with her dressing gown flapping open, playing around with Oby’s teddy, Ted; their chubby neighbour couldn’t quite decide if she was most annoyed about the playing-with-Ted thing or the not-wearing-anything-under-the-dressing-gown thing. Those are the times, Oby supposes, that people find Granny perky for her age.

They also say that Granny is mad, but in actual fact she’s a genius. She used to run off with doctors to places with epidemics breakout, and she won prizes and journalists wrote articles about her. She saved lives and fought evil everywhere on earth. As superheroes do. But one day, someone called “society” decided she was too old to save lives even though Oby strongly suspects what they really meant was “too crazy” though she could not quite figure out who this person “Society” is or where he or she is but Granny always says it’s because “society” wants to meddle in everything and taking away our fundamental human rights”.

“Mama, ngwanu let me get going before I miss the flight” Nkechi said as she stood by the door of the same two bedroom flat she had spent her teenage years and which granny has inhabited since her husband died in a mining accident.

“Nkechi please allow me drive you to the airport” granny entreated in her most tender voice.

“Mba, no mama I don’t trust your driving” came back the immediate reply “besides, your license is expired”

Oby was standing behind granny clutching Ted and fighting the tears, she was quiet although the previous night and the morning, speaking only when asked a question. She would be like this for the rest of the week even when Nkechi called on her way to Lagos.

Nkechi had hoped that the two weeks she had spent with them before leaving would keep them in high spirits at least for a while but that was not the case. She knew only too well how much they would miss her.

She was impressed with the look of the road as the taxi driver set out through Chime Avenue towards airport road; she was unconsciously of the opinion that it be made an international airport, had it been so she would not be heading to Lagos. She sighed as it immediately crossed her mind that there was not one international airport in the south eastern part of the country.