Chapter 7: Recovery and Small Miracles

My sickness dey go small small, so I no fit go meet my parents as I plan. E mean say my own still remain for this side. I dey recover, dey thank God small small.

Wild spirit papa happy no be small. He dey dance inside room, dey beat chest like say e win wrestling.

“Finally, I no go cook again—even dog no go chop my food.”

He talk am, face dey proud. E mean say my cooking better pass him own.

I look am. I dey watch am as e dey peel groundnut, dey sing old tune wey I never hear before. See am now, e dey curse himself. Sometimes, I dey laugh for inside. If e really be big man for spirit world, why e dey curse?

I sigh, carry the rough pot, open am, next thing I shout. The pot heavy pass before. I dey fear say rat enter am.

“Ah!”

Shock hold me. My voice loud reach outside. The pot full with golden guinea corn, almost dey pour out. My hand dey tremble, my mind dey fly. Where e take see this kind miracle?

I rub my eye, pinch one grain, roll am for hand, put for mouth. The taste sweet, better pass all the market guinea corn wey I don chop since I born. The smell of guinea corn full my mouth—the more I chew, the sweeter e be.

I dey look pot, dey thank God, dey wonder if na real magic. Na real guinea corn… No be dream. I pinch myself, pain enter my body.

Wild spirit papa just lean for door like worm, dey snore. He dey snore, mouth open like hungry catfish.

My body just dey shake, I stiff. I dey smile, dey cry. God, na so you dey answer prayer?

“Go cook sharp sharp, Papa dey hungry.”

He yawn, stretch leg, dey tap foot for ground. After he talk finish, he go back table, dey peel groundnut dey chop.

E dey count groundnut, dey drop shell for floor. I dey look am, dey wonder if e fit clean am later.

I just breathe out. My heart come down small. I dey thank my chi for small mercy.

Go wash guinea corn, steam am for pot. I use new water, add small salt, dey sing song as I dey stir.

Go farm pick ugu leaf, cook am, add salt, mix everything, food ready. I dey sweat but happy. Aroma full my nose.

As I open pot, the aroma of guinea corn just full house. Even neighbour dog dey bark, dey smell am from window.

Wild spirit papa peep enter door many times. E no fit sit down. E dey pace up and down, dey sniff air like goat.

At last, he pat him belle, dey mutter: “Useless, you no chop meat and fish before?”

E dey complain say no meat, but mouth still dey water.

When I serve guinea corn food, wild spirit papa rush take big mouthful. He chop with both hand, dey lick finger like say e never see food before.

He close eye, dey shake head: “Everywhere for rainy season, bird dey sing, every family dey enjoy guinea corn aroma.”

He dey remember old times, voice soft like midnight rain. I dey look am, dey wonder who he be truly.

As I dey look am, he laugh so tey he almost choke. He cough small, then drink water, then start dey laugh again.

E be like say, wild spirit papa fit be scholar before?

I dey try reason am. E sabi plenty, but no sabi use am well. Maybe e get story wey I never hear.