“Brother Dele, I know I’m your younger sister, but it doesn’t mean I have the IQ of a cockroach.  What am I saying sef? IQ has nothing to do with this.  Call it a woman’s intuition.  Whatever.  But, please be careful with Veronica.  Shine your eye well well! She’s not who you think she is.”

“Enough! Enough! We’re not having this conversation again.  And since you have grown wings and think you can advise your elders–”

How does he being 5 years older than me, make him an elder? Where’s the walking stick? The grey hair? The endless string of completely irrelevant and meaningless proverbs that have absolutely no application to our discussion? Seni wondered.  Dele was still speaking.

“Go to my room, pick up the pile of dirty clothes on the floor and wash all of them! If I see one sweat stain on the armpit of any shirt ehn … You go hear am! Nonsense!”

As he walked away, he talked angrily in loud tones:

“Na person wey no get work, na she go dey walk up and down, dey do busy body, dey give her senior broda advice, dey chook mouth for inside matter wey no concern am.  Rubbish!”

Seni let out a long, pained sigh.  As she made her way to the kitchen, she caught a glimpse of Dele, serving spoon in one hand, still mumbling angrily to himself, heaping large spoonfuls of the asaro she had prepared earlier, onto a plate.

“If to say I wan poison you now … Na so you go just chop and quench.  Dis man, shine ya eye,” she mumbled under her breath.

It turned out that Brother Dele was right.  Partly.  By the time she finished washing those clothes, it was almost 7:30 p.m. and the mosquitoes had started feasting on her uncovered legs.  She was thoroughly exhausted and went to bed early.  Pretty unusual for a 17-year old.

– to be continued –

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