Shamed for 139.5: Mama Stole My Joy / Chapter 3: Homework and Heavy Chest
Shamed for 139.5: Mama Stole My Joy

Shamed for 139.5: Mama Stole My Joy

Author: Megan Rodriguez


Chapter 3: Homework and Heavy Chest

For house, papa and mama dey watch Christmas movie for parlour. Me, I dey do English homework for dining table.

The television dey show those foreign films, children dey laugh for background. For me, na only my biro dey scratch paper, noise dey loud for my ear.

Suppose be happy family time, but all the music and enjoyment no concern me. Na only plenty vocabulary dey my front.

I dey read 'irony', 'metaphor', 'juxtapose', as if na punishment. Genny Power generator still dey hum, the sound mix with my silent tears. My chest dey tight, as if stone dey press me. E be like say I dey carry mountain for head.

I try cram am, but my mind no dey there. Tears dey drop for my book.

The ink for my book dey swell where tear touch. My handwriting dey shake like breeze dey blow.

Papa notice as my shoulder dey shake. "Amara, why you dey cry?"

He mute the TV, face me, concern full him eye. Na rare thing for papa to challenge mama rule, but this night, him try.

If him no ask, maybe I for still hold am. But as him talk, na so I burst cry: "You talk say I fit sleep for aunty house. Why una change am?"

The words burst out, my voice crack. I no fit hide my pain again.

"You promise me—why you lie?"

I choke, my face messy with tears. The whole house quiet. My siblings tiptoe, nobody wan enter wahala.

Papa just look mama. For our house, na mama get final say. Nobody fit challenge her, even papa.

He sigh, look me with sorry face. He rub him head, like person wey wan talk but no get the right word.

Mama see as I wan break down, but she still form boss: "Amara, you wan go aunty house go dey press phone, abi? No think say I no know. Cry no go help you—you no dey go anywhere tonight."

She cross her legs, her wrapper rustle. Her face hard, but her eye dey dodge my own. She no like make I cry, but she no go ever show weakness.

My chest dey pain me, tears just dey drop as I hold my pen tight.

The pen dey tremble for my hand, the paper don soak. I bite my lip, no wan make noise.

I no fit drop am, I no fit talk back. If I try, she go shout, begin scatter the small confidence wey remain for my body.

I dey remember last year when I try argue, she break my favourite biro. Since then, I learn to keep quiet.

So I just endure am.

Na only the ticking clock and my small sniffle dey fill the parlour. Na so my spirit just dey fade small small.

Na that time, doorbell ring. Aunty stand for door, calm.

Aunty dey wear bright yellow buba, while mama wrapper dey dull, her face strong. Her gele tie fine, face full of smile. Even the air wey follow her enter the parlour cool everywhere.

"I come wait for Amara. When she finish homework, I go carry her go my place."

She stand for door like stubborn lawyer, purse for armpit, no shift ground. My siblings sneak from their room, dey peep.

Before mama fit talk, aunty don enter my room with her bag: "Amara, I bring your new cloth and pyjamas. No rush—do your thing. Aunty go wait here."

She wink, pat my back. The smell of new clothes make me smile small.

Since mama don break her promise, she no get choice, she gree for aunty.

Mama just wave hand like say she no send again. But I see say she dey count the minutes.

Na so I come alive again, wipe my tears, begin write homework like say dem give me ginger. By 11:20pm, I finish my English homework, na only me submit for our class WhatsApp group.

I feel like champion, my head dey swell. My classmates dey drop emoji clap for the group.

"Amara, your English teacher go think say na you be the best child."

Aunty squeeze my shoulder, smile wide. Even papa nod from where him dey. Mama just shift face.

Mama happy, she allow aunty carry me go.

She talk say, "No play too much o," but her voice no strong like before. Maybe she dey surprise say I fit finish am.

I enter stairwell, I no even look mama face.

My legs dey light. Na freedom dey rush me like Harmattan breeze.

She no sabi—I no want be best child. I just want be normal pikin, pikin wey fit enjoy New Year's Eve like every other person.

As I dey descend the stairs, I talk inside my heart: make God help me see better year, better freedom.

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