I popped my head into the kitchen. My eyes darted round. Nobody. My mother was probably up in her room and the help was certainly in the yard washing some plates. The coast was clear. I allowed my nose to take in the waft of the freshly prepared vegetable soup my mother had just prepared. The soup called me. It beckoned my name, Kalu, take a taste out of me; else I’ll never be complete.
I’m coming already, my mind was already fiddling through the beefy ‘ugwu1’ vegetable, the silky palm oil, the irresistible pepper, the thick strands of dried fish and the tender shrimps and the goat meat that struggled with the soup for space in the pot. Though I hadn’t opened the lid, I could envision the contents. Go-slow vegetable soup. Oh yes, my mother’s cooking was always a delight to the mind and heavenly to the tongue.
I danced to the stove where the stainless pot still simmered silently. I lifted my nostrils to the air as if in ritual thanks to the Almighty for giving my mother the skill to make such divine meals. I touched the lid; it was still very hot. A rumpled napkin laid on the worktable beside the stove, so I picked it to prevent burnt fingers. I didn’t want another episode of silent crying today. My elder brother, Dimka, had taught me well. Always be careful and watchful; be sure of where everyone is before carrying out any operation, he always told me.
With my fingers safely couched in the napkin, I lifted the lid of the pot. The mist from the soup covered my face and my heart once again rejoiced for the miracle that filled the pot. The green, red and brown watered my tongue. It was definitely a rich soup. I dropped the cover on one of the burners and proceeded to do the swift task.
I pulled out a small black nylon bag from the back pocket of my jeans, put my pseudo-gloved had in it and aimed for a large piece of goat meat. The meat looked so tender and brown. I could tell that the pepper has seeped into the meat. Oh, jolly me! Today was a lucky day. I darted at the meat, grabbed it into my palm with all ferocity, and then turned the outer part of the nylon out so that the contents of my palm were safely nestled in the nylon.
What? What is that? I felt a seeping heat from somewhere! That’s not possible; I had the protection of a napkin and even nylon so where was it coming from?
I quickly dropped the nylon on the work table. Suddenly, I saw a glistening brick red on the napkin dripping to the floor. It could only mean one thing- the nylon had a hole that I was not aware of! I could have sworn I double checked it. I began to shake and find ways of clearing up the mess as quick as possible before my mother came to meet me stealing from her pot.
Like the jinx I always hoped would never come to pass at times like this, my mother came in through the kitchen door and saw me holding the lid of the pot in one hand, the stained napkin in another and the dripping black nylon beside the stove. All at once, I could feel the rage boiling in her eyes and the quiver of my hands. The lid fell from my hand and crashed to the kitchen floor. The noise was deafening and I wished it would stop especially when the lid decided to do a final dance, rolling and rolling on its edges before finally settling on the clean floor.
My mother dashed for my ears while I dashed for the door, behind her, unwittingly through the little space between her widespread legs. She caught me by my right ear, twisted and rubbed it till it turned red. One of the good things with my mother was she never flogged us. Her key area was the ear. She believed it was the way through which good things would enter the brain and to stimulate its entry, either a violent twist or a slap always did the trick- it usually worked.
While in her grasp, I violently tried to shake myself free but the more I struggled, the more my ear hurt.
‘Kalu, so this is where my meat always disappears. No problem, I will so deal with you, if you see a pot in your life, you will run!’ She dragged me to the courtyard with my already red hot ears and took the nylon.
I cried loudly, my eyes were already streaming tears and my face contorted to a caricature. All this I did in a bid to ignite a spark of pity from my mother to let me go.
‘You should see how ugly you look. Now, pull your ears, hold the nylon and give me a thousand frog jumps! Never in your life will you steal again!’
Dimka came to the courtyard to see what the matter was. As soon as he spotted the nylon, he understood. He stifled his laughter so our mother will not point any kind of accusing finger at him. Seeing the gravity to which my mother had taken my crime, he pleaded with her on my behalf. ‘Mama, please. He’s only 7. He’s still small. He won’t do it again. Or will you?’ he turned to me
Through my stifled cries, I yelled an irritating NOOO!
‘Gerrout! I’m sure you were the one that taught him’, Mama shouted at Dimka. ‘He will do the one thousand, right here and now. You can take his place if you like’
Dimka quickly disappeared.
‘One’, I cried. ‘Two, Three….’ I went up and down. How was Dimka always able to do it? Mama never caught him. I replayed the scene in my life and vowed that I would never steal mama’s meat except Dimka heads the mission. All I could think of was the soup. Now there was no way I would have a share in it.
By the time I got to a hundred, everyone had eaten dinner and the help was clearing up the plates. I was tired and hungry. I had lost all hopes of tasting out of the vegetable soup. I even heard the sound of the pot being washed. It’s all over now. No more. Suddenly, my mother called me, ‘Kalu! Kalu!!’
I ran to her. ‘Yes, mama’, I tried to regurgitate the remnants of my tears. It didn’t work.
‘In your life, if you ever steal from me, I will make sure your fingers are cut off and you will not be able to hold anything again, let alone steal. Is that clear?’
I nodded my head. The thought of loosing my fingers sent a shiver down my little spine. I repeated my vow in my mind. Never again.
She pushed the covered plate beside her to me. ‘That’s your dinner’
I opened it and saw a wrap of fufu2 with the delicious soup that had almost made me lose my ear earlier. I was overjoyed. As soon as the soup touched my lips, I was in heaven. Yes, it was as I had predicted- the soup was worth stealing and suffering for!
Note:
1- ‘Ugwu’- pumpkin leaves
2- ‘Fufu’- morsel made from fermented cassava
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