Philo!
Rukevwe knew Philo very well.
They met some years back in Ehis village.
It was Christmas and Ehis had insisted they spend it in his village.
Rukevwe would have preferred to spend the holiday at their home in Warri especially as she’d just had Ese their second daughter earlier that month and had no help with their 2 young children. But Ehis would have nothing of it.
‘Na wetin dey worry you sef,’ he asked, as he stood in front of the framed mirror hanging on the bedroom wall, and applied scented baby powder to his face.
‘You say you no get person to help you with omomo them and you no gree go village. Nor be for village you go see pipo wen go helep you pass?’
Rukevwe shot a scathing look at his back as he left the room, a thick coat of white powder clung to his forehead.
She found it hard to explain certain things to Ehis sometimes.
He would not understand for example that she would rather be overwhelmed with child care alone in Warri than to have his overbearing family ‘help’ her with them. The only help they rendered on past trips were to ‘reduce’ the number of her lapas and finish her baby’s food.
Rukevwe decided to just go with Ehis this time without trouble.
He’d behaved well throughout her pregnancy, he even bought her a green beaded ‘George lapa’ to wear for baby Ese’s dedication coming up in February.
They left for the village on the 23rd evening arriving shortly after Ureh’s family.
Ureh was Ehis’s immediate older sister and the only one Rukevwe got along with.
It was through Ureh that Rukevwe met Philo.
She’d complained to Ureh about how difficult she was finding coping with a 15 month old and a three-week old alone in Warri. Ureh had taken pity on her and searched for a help for her in the village.
Five days after their arrival Ureh came into the room Rukevwe was occupying with her family, she had a girl with her.
‘I don find geh (girl) for you,’ said Ureh. ‘Her name na Philo.’
‘Good morning ma,’ said Philo with an exaggerated curtsey.
She stood demurely by the window, her hands clasped respectfully in front of her.
She was a big girl with skin the colour of burnt cocoyam. She would pass for Alero’s daughter. She also had a huge backside and spoke as if she had a bone stuck in her throat.
Rukevwe asked Ureh if Philo was a relation.
‘No,’ replied Ureh smiling. ‘She from Pa Ebodaghe compound from across road. Dem dey very strong and hardworking,’ said Ureh.
Rukevwe’s first thought was to turn down Philo’s help. There was something too eager about her and her wide jolly smiles appeared cynical somehow. But the thought of how difficult her life was looking after a fussy Ese while Efe clung fearfully to her skirt managed to push her doubts to the background.
I would be able to return to my shop again with someone helping with the children,thought Rukevwe.
‘How old you be sef?’ She asked Philo.
‘Me? Hennn, madam I young o. I young well well, nor look dis my agric body o.’
‘Eh, but how old you be?’
‘Emmm, na only 17 years I be. I nor old.’
‘Oturugbekpe! Shouted Ureh, looking at Philo in surprise.
‘Fear God small na. How old mama like you go be 17? You wey dem born before Alero marry. Shuo!’
Philo laughed a tinkly laugh. ‘U no hear me well, na 22 I talk no be 17.’
Ayibu Makolo 