Bringing you 'a-breast'
Glad to be back in Chapel Hill. Boy! Will I miss this place when I eventually leave because whenever I skip town, I am always craving to return. Why? Cos I've got Carolina on my mind. The Thanksgiving break seemed to be endless. I was able to get both Thursday and Friday off at the very last minute, so I went to Ndidi's in Greensboro on Thursday and then Charlotte on Friday. The drive to Charlotte was just long because I really didn't feel like going there, but then I thought about the Egusi soup and the goat meat stew that I was sure Uncle John would have cooked and I boned up. I wasn't looking forward to making the regular rounds of visiting or calling up relatives to let them know I'm in town, so I didn't. I snuck in and snuck out, and I am sure one or two would call me up and start a sentences with , "A si n'ibiara' [They said you came...].
Good thing though, I took the time off to dose up on Nigerian movies [details later] and undo my braids, an guess what... MY HAIR LINE IS RECEEDING!!! It's not the fault of the briads, but the fault of the hair glue that I used to glue in the hair-weave I wore for the pageant. As in the glue chopped my hair comot. Like OMG... WHY? I am beginning to think I need to get Rogaine or just cut off my hair and try again...for a 4th time. I guess I am just not meant to have 'good' hair, and to think I was getting excited that the length of my hair was up to my chin. Anyways I took out the briads and no comb or hair conditioner was to be found in the whole house. I made the kids search till they found a small picking comb.
Meanwhile, the funniest thing happened at that moment. Actually I had started to drive back to CH on Sunday, but I got to I-85 and saw the mad traffic jam. It took me 30 minutes to get from one exit to another, at which point I turned around and was like there's no way in hell that I am going to sit in traffic with the throbbing headache that I was having. If you had seen my face, I looked constipated. May be I was, from all the food I ate. So retrack to the funny thing that happned. I came back and decided to wash my hair. I was irritated, not just because I could not find a comb or hair conditioner, but because I had that massive headache and I had to spend another cold, boring night in Charlotte [not that there was another option]. Anyways I guess Uncle John was glad I didn't go yet and decided he would send me to go and buy meat for him. Kai!! Oh God!!! I was thinking in my head. There's no way I can get back in my car and drive to no store, so I squeezed my face and complained about my headache and that I was about to wash my hair. Then he saw the eggs I was holding...
"What are you using egg for?" He asked.
"To condition my hair", I replied.
"So there's no conditioner in the store that you have to use egg?" He asked rhetorically.
At this point I am thinking, 'Nice try Uncle John.' He was just looking for a way to get me to go to the store. Either that or he was upset that I was wasting his eggs on my hair.
"I'm not going to go to the store to spend $5 when I have conditioner at home, instead I'ld rather not wash my hair." At this point I quickly changed the subject to something else because if either of us dwelled on it, someone was going to get pissed at the other. Thinking back now, I should have just gone and bought that meat o, beacause I am about to ask him for a favor and I am sure he will hang this one over my head while it is still hot.
Anyways Uncle John is good peeps but his kids are another story. One thing I have to say from visiting Charlotte is reinforcement that I don't want to have more than 2 children and may God provide me with twins, one boy and one girl. Anymore will require additional grace and required family therapy. In fact, simple solution, ship them to Africa or wherever their grandparents will be. First of all, I cannot stand noisiness and littering. I can understand books and clothes on the floor, but cookie and candy wrappers, toys, half eaten apples...HELL NO!! As in immediately I walked into the house it was a battle field, boot camp. Turned of all sources of entertainement and put them to work.
Then can you just imagine my 13 year old cousin 'tried' to do big chick for me. Hmh? What alacrity and audacity. I told this girl to follow her brothers and clean up. She refused and continued watching TV after rolling her eyes....can you imagine. Calmly now, like they teach american parents, I went into the room and asked her politely to go and clean her room. Do you know that this girl just sat there as if I was talking to a ghost. Her little sister was like 'Aunty is talking to you.' The babe still bone so I turend the TV off and you should have seen the way she stumped off fuming under her breathe, saying I'm mean. God save am say she no swear or abuse me because I would have landed her one fine slap the way african parents do. She cleaned her room, or rather stuffed everythingin the closet and went to turn the TV off even after I had told her to go and take a shower after cleaning. I guess she was trying to get her mother to get involved, knowing already that both of us have already crossed that path. Unfortunately for her, or should I say fortunately [because she would have gotten into more of my hot water] her mother was like , 'C'mon get out of her and do what you are told.'
Poor girl broke down and was like 'Aunty's so mean'. Meanwhile I am in the kitchen reciting everything that my live-in uncles and aunties back in Nigeria used to say to me when I tried to put on my snotty, rude hat or pull my height around since I was kinda taller than everybody. The difference then was that I knew my limits because those ones had the full writ of law to punish at will, with 'koboko' and 'bulala' waiting in hand. Uncle Sam had 'red pepper' for any foul mouthedness, you'ld be looking crazy in school with calabar hairstyle because Aunty Mati wouldn't plait yours and as for Uncle Chike, he'll make you frog jump from Iwaya Rd to Jericho.
Anyways they got me upset and so there was no television the whole day till 4pm. Sent them all into their rooms to read. There will be no sassing 'Aunty Adaure'. Are you crazy? Won't tolerate such nonsense. They did apologise so I released them but as I said may God give me grace for children. I like babies, but once they get to a certain point, I just feel the need to torture and tickle them or become this menacing person, so that when they see me, they'll run across to the other side. You know put some fear in them so that they behave and so far it's working. I just hope my payback won't be in form of the most unruly, ill-mannered, hard-headed two kids. Tufiakwa!! I reject it in Jesus name. Lord knows the house won't enter all of us. Back then they used to sell such kids into Slavery but these days it's called Social Services. I am sure those options would make any kid act right on command.