Chapter 3: Dream for Small Goat

Na my papa teach my mama how to cook ram.

For long, na only backyard dey hear their laughter as ram dey turn for fire, the smell dey climb sky. Na so love and food tie together for our family.

My papa sabi cook pass anybody, and na roast whole ram be him main work.

Him hand steady like person wey dey do juju. Knife dey dance for him hand, fire dey respect am. E go sing old song as e roast, people go dey peep fence dey hope for small piece.

People dey roast ram, but my papa own different: the skin dey make kpa kpa, the meat soft, the smell sweet but no too strong. Even people wey no like ram go dey chop am anyhow once dem smell am.

Some people say na juju, but mama go laugh, say na patience and respect for animal spirit. For our house, nothing dey waste—bone, skin, everything get use.

Anytime my papa dey cook, my mama dey help am for backyard.

She dey grind spice, taste salt, turn meat, her eye never leave fire. Love dey her every move; even when heat dey burn, she no complain.

Other women dey front dey call customer, but my mama no dey show face.

She always hide for kitchen shadow. Some people talk say she dey form, but only I know say na protection.

I know why—my mama fine well well, fine reach trouble level.

Her kind beauty na the one wey dey cause fight. Skin yellow like ripe mango, eye black like charcoal. Papa dey tease say na her beauty make ram dey sweet for pot.

And we be ordinary people, nobody to back us. For this world, wahala no good for us; na to avoid am sure pass.

Once person get nothing but face, e good make you no draw attention. Mama know am, and she teach me so.

The only time my papa show for public na when Regent Prince people hear about him special roast whole ram, come invite am cook for the prince.

The whole street dey buzz; even tailor promise free cloth if papa bring back gift. Neighbours come wish am luck, people dey pray for him head.

My papa happy, tell my mama, “This time, the reward go big. I go buy you new clothes for city, and make pure gold small goat for our Ngozi dowry.”

My mama just blush, her eye dance. I dey beside them, hope say all this dream go true.

I like small goat pass anything. As I hear, I jump enter my papa hand: “Small goat! I want small goat!”

The way I jump, na so even neighbour pikin begin shout say dem want goat too. Papa carry me, my leg dey kick air.

My papa laugh, carry me for back, dey run round house. My mama laugh, dey shout, “No let pikin fall o!”

The laughter sweet, e melt for air. That kind day, happiness fit choke person.

That time sweet like dream.

But dream na something wey fit break quick like calabash. Sometimes, joy dey hide sorrow for corner.

If I know, I for no wish for small goat at all.

Maybe if I keep quiet, nothing for spoil. But how pikin go know? Who fit see tomorrow?

I for just wish make my papa dey alive.

The pain of loss no get name for tongue. Even silence dey heavy for chest.