Rafiat 2 years ago

The Oil Saga

The little boy who refuses to eat anything against his taste buds will go an extra mile.

Sometimes, I wonder if sister Bolade has some kind of mental touch, she acts like a demented human most times. Like who, who in the world cooks rice with palm oil? I wanted to tell her, "sister mi, se e fe gbe ẹbọ losiorita ni." But I wouldn't dare to do that if I loved myself enough, the last time I tried throwing around sarcastic comments like that, she gave me an utmost resounding slap that got the birds singing joy to the world to my ears for three good days. Those days weren't fun; for a moment, I thought I might become a bird DJ mixer, with the different bird tunes that played in my ears for 72 whole hours. I moved away from the wall I rested on; the remaining two cups of rice and small ground pepper were left in the house and the only food we would have for the day. I wasn't about to let her ruin my already damaged appetite with palm oil, even when she claimed it would be so sweet I would bite my tongue. I had to hold myself from rolling my eyes deep into their socket, "sweet, my bloody ass."

The most annoying thing is that she wanted to go collect the palm oil on credit. When I asked her why not groundnut oil, she said that it was much more expensive; palm oil would save her little change when she intends to pay back. "Kini gbogbo eleyi bayi."

Remembering brother Soliu the tout had sent me on an errand the day before, which I had grumpily gone on. The advantage was he had told me to keep the change. I ransacked my pocket immediately and heaved a huge sigh of relief when I saw the #100. I must admit, brother Soliu seems like a Godsent for the first time. Not like I would ever say it to his face; that egbon annoys me like hell, coupled with the fact that he keeps making what I would call treacherous advances towards sister Bolade. If I had some balls, I would beat him to a pulp if he did so much as touch the tip of my sister's hair. 

Back to the matter of the day, I handed the money to her; "sister mi, efi ra oróro." She gave me where you got it from; look, "brother Soilu." I replied her matter of factly. She nodded, saying she would be back. I entered our shabby-looking room, as much as the walls seemed like they had seen better days and didn't befit a normal human to live in. It was the only shield our parents had left us, which saved us from sleeping on the streets. An hour later, the food was done; I smiled heartily when she dished my food, although it looked bland with an off-white color. I still preferred it to eat a wannabe jollof rice.

After finishing the food, I realized the plate remained extremely oily. I stared at her, asking, "what oil is this?". She pointed to the oil pack on the floor that still had some of its content without saying a word. Realization dawned, "Oh, it's power oil." For the first time that day, I saw her smile; "yeah, that's the power of the oil." She replied sweetly.

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