Chapter I
I
Mama G perceived it—there was a woman with child in the house.
It was a Saturday, warm and dry, with the scent of burning trash wafting over from their neighbours’ compound.
Mama G had showed up with a bag full of herbs and potions, but her noisy arrival was largely ignored, and she and Bunmi retired to the west wing to begin their shenanigans.
Mo had quickly forgotten about the mamalawo’s presence in their home.
She took Sango for a walk and then sat in front of the computer, staring at the blank page meant to become her résumé.
She would have to find a job. She was assisting at her mother’s school, but that couldn’t be her final bus stop.
Still, she had no idea what she wanted to do; she could no longer even rustle up the desire to take a photograph.
It was a welcome distraction when she heard her mother shouting.
“I want everyone in the east living room. Now!”
They gathered. When Mo walked into the room, Aunty Kemi was already seated on the armchair, the gentle sweetness of her lavender perfume combating the stringent fumes coming from the wanton outdoor pollution.
She had removed her wig and placed it tenderly on her lap, and she followed her pacing sister with curious eyes.
Ebun was not far behind her cousin. She looked tired.
But then these days she always looked tired.
Time had moved forward for her. She was a university graduate with an entry-level role in an accounting firm, in her forever outfit of pencil skirt and blouse.
But it was the weekend, and her slim frame was swimming inside a pink and green bubu.
Mama G had her arms crossed over her gigantean breasts, and she was standing in the doorway, assuming the role of guard.
No one would be able to enter or leave without Bunmi’s say-so.
Mo popped a TomTom in her mouth. She had no idea what was rustling her mother’s feathers, but she assumed it was some ridiculousness.
Perhaps Bunmi had finally had a spiritual encounter of some kind; but her mother’s look was black and she kept glaring at the three women before her.
She waited a few more minutes for Tolu to arrive and then concluded his presence wasn’t needed anyway.
“Which one of you is pregnant?”
Mo burst out laughing. “Huh?”
“You heard me.”
Mo turned to look at Mama G, who met her eyes squarely. So the mamalawo was at the heart of their current drama. Mo sucked the hard sweet, tasting the menthol and the sugariness, before raising both her hands and saying, “You have not seen me with any man in three years.”
Her mother narrowed her eyes, examined her for a beat, then pivoted to Kemi.
“You ńk???”
It was Aunty Kemi’s turn to laugh. “Bunmi, abeg. I am in my fifties. But even if I wanted to have a fifth child, how is that your business? Abi, wetin be all this?”
“Somebody in this house is pregnant.”
“Maybe it is Mama G,” offered Mo.
“It is not Mama G.”
“I am not pregnant o,” insisted Mama G from her post.
“How do we know?” Mo continued. “We should have her take a test.” This was what her life had come to—looking for little ways to rile her mother.
She had no man, no job and no hobby. This was her guilty pleasure.
She twisted to her right in order to wink at her cousin, but Ebun was staring at the floor.
She looked tense. Mo’s smile began to slip.
“Monife, Mama G does not belong to this household,” was her mother’s reply. Mo did not bother to respond. She could not take her eyes off her cousin, who had started to feel her intense gaze and was slowly lifting her head. Bunmi noticed the movement and turned her attention to her niece.
“Is it you?”
Ebun did not answer for a beat. She was no doubt weighing the pros and cons of lying. But she paused for a moment too long, and Aunty Kemi sucked in her breath.
“Ebun?” she asked.
“She is the one,” announced Mama G. Mo squashed the urge to throw a pillow at the woman’s grinning face.
“I’m…” began Ebun, but then she gave up. She looked ahead, not meeting anyone’s eye. Kemi stood up and walked into her daughter’s line of sight.
“How can this be?” she cried. “You have not even brought any man to this house!” Mo appreciated her aunt’s confusion. She hadn’t even known her cousin was having sex. Ebun always gave off such a puritanical air. Her baby cousin was pregnant, and she was leaving Mo behind.
“Who is the father?” asked Bunmi.
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Are you okay at all, what do you mean you don’t want to talk? You will give us a name.”
“He isn’t a part of this,” Ebun responded quietly.
Kemi was scratching her scalp vigorously and dancing on her feet. “This girl wants to kill me.”
“When did you find out?” asked Mo. Because she had thought they were close. Once upon a time, they had been close. But Ebun had chosen to carry this weight on her own.
Ebun shrugged. “Maybe three weeks ago…”
“Three weeks!” was Kemi’s cry. And Mo recalled Ebun’s sudden aversion to perfume, and how easily fatigued she had become. “Three weeks! Is this not something you should mention?! So…so if Mama G had not said anything, you would have announced the baby at the…at the naming ceremony?!”
“I am trying to decide what to do!”
“This is not the sort of thing you deal with on your own,” said Bunmi in a rare show of calmness. “We are your family.”
But Ebun was unmoved. It was as though she had long concluded that the women before her were in no position to help her.
—
What followed was a series of arguments—some long and loud, others short, urgent and pleading.
There were threats made, tantrums thrown; but in the face of it all, Ebun was a wall—impenetrable and unmoving.
What was her plan here? She made no mention of the pregnancy, wouldn’t go to see a doctor, wouldn’t take the vitamins her mother bought by the bucketload.
She continued her routine as normal—she went to work, came home, had dinner with them, before retiring for the night.
In this way, the weeks passed and they learnt nothing new.
The sound of her cousin throwing up her guts interrupted the flow of music in Mo’s room.
Mo considered ignoring it; Ebun certainly wouldn’t thank her for showing up to offer support.
But the vomiting was loud and dramatic, and Mo was the only one at home.
She turned off Brandy’s crooning voice and headed to Ebun’s room, which had previously belonged to Great-Aunty Toke, who had had a collection of cat-shaped belongings that she had not been able to take with her to her temporary marital home, or her grave.
Ebun had long since disposed of said items and her room was stark by comparison; but she was not there.
So Mo headed to the bathroom that her cousin and aunt shared and found Ebun sitting by the toilet bowl.
Ebun was twenty now, but there was something in the way she was curled up that reminded Mo of Ebun at eleven. How pitiful that little girl had been.
Mo had so many questions: Who was the man that had been able to crack Ebun’s shield?
Was it love Ebun had felt? Or unrestrained lust?
How had it ended? Had the curse forced its grimy tendrils into an otherwise harmonic relationship?
But she knew better than to voice her thoughts.
If you asked Ebun a single question about the life blooming inside of her, her face became as stone and she would withdraw at the first opportunity.
Ebun noticed Mo and raised her upper body. She was poised again, and whatever openness there may have been moments before was gone. Her eyes were now shuttered. It hurt Mo that her mere presence put her cousin on the defensive.
She offered the bottle of water she was holding.
Ebun hesitated for just a moment before taking it.
Mo entered the room and pulled the door closed, shutting Sango out in the process.
She stepped over her cousin’s crossed legs and sat on the edge of the bath.
She watched as Ebun rinsed her mouth. She could not help but examine her cousin for signs of any changes.
The bubu had become Ebun’s outfit of choice, so it was hard to tell what might be going on under the roomy gown.
Then Ebun looked at her. Her eyes, framed by long lashes, were a bottomless shimmering pool; reflecting all, revealing nothing.
Before her cousin could speak, Mo broke the silence.
“I come in peace.”
“Do you?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.” That drew a small smile from Ebun’s lips. “We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to talk about.”
They sat together in silence for a while, and then Ebun said, “This is random, but I feel as though chin chin would lift my whole mood right now.”