Extract · Short story
Adaobi Enlightened
“Adaobi, Adaobi!!!”
“Adaobi, Adaobiiii!!!” Nkemezi shouted at the top of her voice. “Where is this child?” she grunted in annoyance.
Nkemezi was sitting on a stool, with her back facing the mud hut where they lived. In front of her were her usual companions; coal pots, a jagged grinding stone, crooked old knives and cooking ladles which no longer had their original handles. The pieces of wood and charcoal burned and crackled, sending pillowy fumes inundated with the unmissable scent of aged firewood throughout the compound, as it burned away slowly. This was where she made her family’s meals every day no matter the weather with the use of her “old reliable” companions.
This evening, she was preparing Onugbu soup, everyone’s favourite! It was her failsafe, Ndudi, her husband, Nayo, her son and Adaobi, her daughter always sang her praises whenever she made Onugbu soup. The bitterness from the bitter leaf paired well with the gaminess of the goat meat and the ogiri.
Nkemezi would feel proud when her family enjoyed her cooking, as it was a reminder to her that she still added value to them somehow. Cooking gave her a sense of purpose and often boosted her morale in the days when she felt like she may be wasting her life away.
“Adaobi, Adaobi!” she continued to shout.
Adaobi always responded to her name by the third call at least, without fail, Nkemezi thought to herself, even when she had wandered off to Nkiruka’s hut, just off the beaten path. It was just the way it was, they lived in a small village, though they farmed in the neighbouring town of Nchemuno.
Adaobi had gone to the farm and returned with her mother every day since she turned 7; the only exceptions being Sundays, Christmas and New Year. If she ever fell ill, she was never ill enough to not go to the farm. The routine was always the same, ran like clockwork depending on the season and the market days.
Whilst Nkemezi had spun into a frantic search for her only daughter, Adaobi was none the wiser, as she was at this time lost in her own thoughts, keeping company with the secrets she had been hiding for months. Adaobi had discovered a world of illustrated books, broken pieces of blackboard and multi-coloured chalk stubs and had been storing them in the broken-down shed behind the silos at the farm.
Ncheluche, her admirer, worked at the tip, and had taken an interest in them when he would have to scrimmage through the waste heaps. The colours and pictures fascinated him but they fascinated Adaobi even more so. When they no longer appealed to him, she became the new owner of these items of wonder.
The first time Ncheluche gave her an illustrated book, some broken chalk boards and chalk; she hurriedly ran to show her mother who turned out to be not quite as pleased. Especially because, from what she could gather, the loot had come from an even more distasteful man. Distasteful only because he could offer nothing of material value or pleasure to Adaobi or her family.
Adaobi remembered how Nkemezi had snatched the items of wonder from her in anger and irritation, as if they were stained underwear being hung out to dry, “Ha! Adaobi, what are you doing with these?” She asked in annoyance “There is a reason your father and I did not put you in that school run by Father Nchanwa” she continued. “Books are of the devil my child, they confuse people and make them behave badly to their parents”, “and if you look in them they will fill you with bad ideas, you will start to think you know more than everybody”…