Homesick
24
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After ending my call with Special, a sense of longing settles within me. I sit there for a minute, let out a deep sigh and rub my temples, trying to dispel the lingering frustration and disappointment.
For some weird reason, I find myself yearning for a touch of home, a connection to something familiar after that narrow escape. Moments like this, I wish I had a roomie, but I’ll never trade my newfound solitude.
I reach for my phone again and dial a number that holds a piece of my heart—Mama Gee’s. The phone rings a few times before her warm voice greets me.
Something flows out of me and I feel a million times lighter. “Hi, Mama,” I reply, smiling. “I just wanted to hear your voice and say that I miss home.”
There’s a pause on the line, and then she chuckles softly. “Oh, Fiyinfoluwa, we miss you too. But I know you’re doing great things over there. You’re our pride.”
Love, warmth, and a touch of homesickness—all these are what’s plaguing me right now. It’s true that I’ve come a long way from Ogba, Lagos, pursuing my dreams and building a life in a new country. But in moments like these, I feel like a fraud.
“Thank you,” I say, still smiling. “I’m doing my best.”
As we talk, I tell Mama Gee about my first day at work and listen for gist about my siblings, extended family members, and her business. We talk at most twice a week, but today feels different. It’s on the tip of my tongue to suggest that I take over the peppersoup joint like she suggested years ago.
Then, as if on cue, her laughter rings through the phone. “If you’re hungry, why not boil rice and peppersoup? When was the last time you prepared peppersoup.”
“Ma?”
“You have all the ingredients for peppersoup there, don’t you?”
“Yes…” I pause, surprised by the sudden change in topic. “I do have the ingredients, but I haven’t made it in a while.”
“Ah, well then, why not treat yourself to a taste of home? Make some peppersoup and savor the aroma. That should help with this homesickness you’re feeling.”
The idea brings a smile to my face. “Mama Gee! You’re right. Maybe I will.”
I end the call feeling lighter and motivated.
Heading to the kitchen, I scan the sparse shelves for the necessary ingredients. I realize I’m running low on supplies, but manage to find some dry uziza leaves, onions, ground pepper, and a few peppersoup spices that will have to do.
As I start to chop the onions and prepare the spices, my mind drifts back to Ogba, the bustling streets lined with vendors selling everything from fresh produce to clothing. I remember the scent of Mama Gee’s peppersoup joint, and my childhood. ness hits me as I recall the sounds of familiar voices hawking their wares on the street and being surrounded by loved ones.
The sound of rice water bubbling to the surface and onto the electric cooker brings me back to the present, and I rush to remove the cover I had placed over the pot.
I add peppersoup spices to the beef boiling on the other ring of the cooker, and soon, the aroma begins to fill the kitchen, transporting me back to those comforting memories. It’s as if the flavors and scents are trying to connect my current reality and the world I miss.
Eventually, I ladle rice and peppersoup into separate bowls and take a moment to savor the taste. It’s not the same as Mama Gee’s, but it brings a sense of comfort, nonetheless. I reflect on the choices I’ve made and the path I’m on. The conversation with Special weighs heavily on my mind, but for now, I’m enjoying the refuge I’ve found in the familiar flavors of home.
Settling down with a tray holding my meal, I’m ready to overfeed and indulge in a Korean drama to take my mind off things. Just as I’m about to take my first bite of the meat, my phone begins to ring, disrupting my quiet, reflective evening. It could be Itohan.
I glance at the caller ID and see that it’s Alice, Special’s younger sister. Curiosity piqued, I quickly answer the call, my heart warming at the thought of hearing from her.
“Hey, Alice! It’s great to hear from you,” I say with a smile.
“Hi, Fifi! I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Not at all. I was just about to enjoy some rice with peppersoup and watch a movie,” I say, adjusting my laptop to face me.
“Oh, that sounds cozy! But hey, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Alice says, her tone taking on a more serious note.
“Of course, what’s up?” I ask, setting my spoon aside for the moment. I might have to microwave my soup because it’s best consumed hot.
“Well, first of all, congratulations on your new job! I heard about it, and I just wanted to say well done and congratulations.” Although shocked the news has travelled so far, so fast, Alice’s words make me smile.
“Thank you.”
“And secondly, I just wanted to share something with you. I know you’ve been away in Dublin for a while now, and we don’t always get the chance to talk. But I wanted to remind you that no matter where you are or what you’re doing, you’ll always have our support,” Alice continues, her voice reassuring.
“That really means a lot to me, Alice. Thank you,” I say, wondering where this is coming from .
“And, you know, there might be times when things get tough or when you have to make difficult decisions. Just remember we’re always here for you,” Alice adds, her words carrying a depth of meaning that although is reassuring, I don’t understand where it’s coming from.
“Thank you,” I reply, picking a grain of rice and tossing it into my mouth. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Oh, and one more thing,” Alice says.
My food is getting cold.
“No matter what you’re earning or your position at work, never forget to support Special. He’s lucky to have you, and I know you’re lucky to have him too.”
I chuckle softly, appreciating her candor and seeing exactly what led to this strange call. “I won’t forget, Alice. Thanks for the reminder.”
With that, we exchange a few more pleasantries and end the call.
That was unexpected. I start to smile but stop midway when it hits me—does Special tell his siblings about our relationship? How does he describe our relationship? Where does he draw the line? Did he let them know he ‘changed’ it for me when we found out about the salary? What version did he give them? My brain is spinning in a million directions.
Wow.
Linda and Itohan know so little about my relationship. I’ve met Alice only once in person, and while her call was unexpected, it also felt a bit... unusual. Am I overthinking things?
My thoughts are interrupted by a sudden knock on my door. Startled, I look up, set aside my laptop and tray of peppersoup and rice that would definitely need to be reheated, and walk to the door. Opening it, I find no one there. I furrow my brows, slightly confused. Did I imagine the knock?
I’m about to close the door when my eyes catch something on the ground—a note, placed neatly on my doorstep. Curious, I pick it up and unfold it.
It’s a barely readable handwritten note from a neighbor, expressing concern about the strong aromas of the meals I prepare, specifically mentioning that today’s version had them coughing. The note kindly asks me to be mindful of the cooking scents, as they are affecting the shared spaces and the comfort of the other residents.
It ta kes me mere seconds to transition from feeling startled to astonished to disbelief.
Closing the door, I hold the note in my hand, still perplexed, the pang of homesickness hitting harder. I read the note again, my mind struggling to process the idea that the smell of my meal could be considered offensive. If this is how they treat people from different cultures around the world, then I don’t want to travel the world.
Dragging my feet, I return to my laptop, my appetite for peppersoup temporarily minimized by the stupid note—it’s all a matter of weeks, I’ll be out of this annoying building.