Papa Efe & Sons 5

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.’

 

 

 

 

I Don’t Know How She Does It.

The above is the title of a book by Allison Pearson.
I came across it some years back while browsing through some books in a bookstore.
I remember picking the book off the shelf just for the sake of the title.

What kind of book is this?
Who names their book with such long sentences?
These were the thoughts that ran through my mind as I pulled the book out of its hideaway where it stood nestled between two big books.
It turned out it was a pink medium-sized book.
I flipped through it to find out what it was about and decided afterwards that I had to read it.

The book is about a woman who tries to balance her work as a very busy professional with her family life.
It talks about the main character (Kate Reddy) who struggles with meeting schedules at the office and at the same time worry/prepare meals for her family, attend school events and still be a loving partner to her husband.

I found the book interesting, funny, as well as poignant.
It kind of struck a chord with me as it will any woman who has to juggle with a career and family.
It suggests moments of guilt when unable to make a school play or spend time with the children.
It reminds one of the occasional sinking feeling that one gets over a spouse. Feelings that he or she deserves better attention than they are getting.
And not forgetting the paralysing tiredness that takes over the mind and body and that can only be alleviated by sleep.
And yet, it is the family movie night, or the baby’s birthday the next morning, or even the couple’s anniversary and more effort than usual is expected and therefore demanded.

‘I Don’t Know How She Does It’ is an interesting read.
It shows the daily struggles in the life of a woman, the juggling, the victory, the loses.
Though the author used a high-flying and successful woman as her main character, I want to think that even women who do not have such careers or who do not work at all still face the kind of challenges portrayed in the book.I hear the book was made into a movie.
I am yet to see it.

That book titled ‘Night’ (2)

Hello everyone,

Sorry it has taken me this long to put up a sequel.Sometimes my life gets incredibly busy that I can hardly cope with all I have to do. Sounds familiar?

Like I said in my first part of ‘Night’ I find it difficult understanding how inhuman man can be to another just because situations and circumstances change. In the book which is an account of a young man’s (he was 15) experience of the Nazi Concentration camps one gets to read and experience the dirt, sorrow and loss of innocence and humanity.

People like the writer of the book saw their families thrown alive into blazing fires, babies and toddlers included. At some point the inmates of these camps were ready to kill their siblings and parents in order to get their serving of bread or soup to assuage their starving bellies as they were underfed.

At the end of the book I came away with one terrible thought, a thought that I have each time I read books that tell of inhumanity, of extreme wickedness and lack of appreciation of a life. The thought that if rules are taken away, if punishment is no longer there as a deterrent, will people, people of today still act like the inhuman debased people we read about in books like ‘Night’ or will they be different now, more humane, more tolerant, more empathetic?

I am afraid to know what the answer is.