Rich Blood, Poor Heart / Chapter 7: Our Shared Fears
Rich Blood, Poor Heart

Rich Blood, Poor Heart

Author: Melissa Russell


Chapter 7: Our Shared Fears

Me and Chiamaka just dey bed, I hold my phone dey show her my pictures.

We lie down, legs tangled, her head for my shoulder. My phone screen bright, pictures dey flash one by one. She dey smile soft.

My album full with home pictures and videos:

I scroll show her our zinc roof, the way papa dey patch am every rainy season. I dey laugh as I show video of Mama dey chase chicken, slippers in hand. Chiamaka dey giggle.

The three new zinc-roof rooms my family build some years ago; the chickens, ducks, and goats wey dey waka anyhow for front.

I show her where goat dey sleep, where ducks dey swim for small basin. Chiamaka say, “Wetin be that?!” I laugh, tell her story about how Big Brown chase all the ducks enter bush.

Cowshed and pigsty dey yard.

She pause, ask, “Una dey keep pig?” I show her picture, she laugh. “I never see pig for real life!”

One new calf just dey try stand, the mama dey lick am till e fall down.

Chiamaka say, “This one cute o!” She dey smile, her eyes bright. The calf eyes big, still dey learn how to stand. I tell her how we give am name—‘Blessing’.

For wall base, chicken nest full with small chicks, their eyes still dey wet, dem dey look us.

I show her video where small chicks dey run after Mama. She laugh, voice sweet, even as her eyes dey red.

Big Brown, our dog, dey chase chicken and duck, tongue out, dey enjoy.

I tell her how Big Brown no dey let visitor enter compound, how Papa say na him first son.

Backyard get mango and guava trees. When fruit ripe, I go pluck one, rush wash am, bite big, snap selfie.

I show her mango selfie—face full of juice, teeth stained. She laugh, say, “You too funny.”

Papa dey come back from work, hoe for hand. He see me dey take picture, come smile, do one funny victory sign.

She say, “Your papa dey young for him age!” I nod, tell her how Papa dey dance when happy.

Mama dey cook long-life rice for my birthday. I play, flour full her face, she wave rolling pin for me.

I show the picture, she dey laugh, say, “Your Mama sabi play!” I nod, tell her how Mama like make everybody laugh.

But she mistakenly knack Big Brother wey just enter.

We both laugh. I describe how Big Brother eye big, flour for nose. Chiamaka cover mouth, dey giggle.

Big Brother stand, flour full body, dey look confused. Second Sister laugh like say she wan fall, so Mama knack her join.

We both laugh harder. Chiamaka shake head, “Your family get joy.”

I just dey laugh.

As we laugh, I feel the heavy load for my chest reduce. I see say she dey enjoy my story.

......

As I dey show the pictures, I dey explain give Chiamaka.

I tell her how Christmas dey sweet for our place—everybody dey sing, dance, even if food no reach, joy plenty. I talk how we dey fetch water, how Mama dey cook for everybody, how laughter dey scatter for air.

She dey listen, dey smile at first, but later her eyes red.

She bite lip, eyes water. She dey try hide tears, but I see am.

"Dem look really nice."

Her voice low, small smile. I hold her hand, squeeze am.

"Yes, dem be good people."

I nod, proud. My family no get money, but love dey plenty.

"Dem go like me?"

She look up, voice small, afraid. My heart touch me.

Chiamaka voice dey shake small.

She dey fear, I fit see am. Her hand cold. She dey look me like say she dey beg answer.

"I no sabi do housework, I no fit farm, I no fit raise chicken or goat... I no even know how to relate with them."

She talk am with shame. I pat her back. “You go learn. No be today we start.”

"But you be their daughter—na enough be that."

I smile, voice sure. I fit see hope for her eyes.

I just dey comfort her.

I rub her back. I tell her how Papa no dey care if you sabi work, as long as you dey try.

And as I dey talk, I realize say I dey feel the same way.

I dey see my fear for her face. I understand say both of us dey learn how to belong again.

"I dey fear small," Chiamaka talk. "When holiday reach, you fit carry me go visit them?"

She dey beg, eyes wet. I nod fast, “I go carry you. Dem go like you.”

Abeg, if dem carry me go village, make pig no pursue me o!

I say yes.

I hug her. Our hands lock, our heads touch.

We look each other, smile.

That night, fear reduce. Small hope dey.

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