We Are Able

Episode 27

Toyosi and the rest of the family left me alone to fend
for myself on Christmas day. Before she left, she told
me that I should not go near the food she had prepared.

She didn’t feed me that morning, yet I was the one who
helped them pack their plates to wash.
I entered the kitchen and opened the pot when they had
left. I saw chicken parts drowning in the aromatic stew.
It oozed into my nose and I almost drooled inside the
pot. Only God knew how many chickens were
slaughtered that day. I didn’t even know they bought
life chicken, perhaps they bought already prepared
ones.

I closed the pot back and adjourned to the parlour.
Hunger came knocking hard at my stomach around
12pm. I wondered why a Christmas day should be
turned to Lent for me. My mother’s memory came to my
head and I felt blood rushing to my head.
When will my mother be back from the prison? I
thought. If only I knew the prison where she was, I
would have made effort to get there to either get her
out or stay in there with her. I lay on the floor, in the
parlour and wept. I rolled from side to side as hunger
made my stomach its residence.
I reached for a notebook and began to write a poem:
My Life Without You, Mother
Poem was not food, so I dropped it at the second
stanza. All I needed right now was something solid to
feed on. Childishly, I prayed that manna would fall from
heaven to satisfy my hunger. What manner of manna
would fall on a Christmas day? Maybe chickens, I
thought. I remembered the bible story we were taught
back then; the children of Israel were fed with quails
from heaven. I wouldn’t want quail this time around, but
chickens, I said as I shut my eyes. Beggars have no
choice; even if it were vulture I saw falling down, I
would eat them like that, alive or dead.
I opened my eyes, nothing had happened. I began to
doubt if faith worked at all, because my faith was just
too strong that moment. If actually faith worked, then I
should have the things I asked for, I thought.
Faith, they say, is dead without work, I thought. Right
now I knew what to do. If I needed food from heaven,
why can’t I put an empty plate on the table and put
cutlery beside it? Perhaps, after saying a short prayer, I
would meet the plate filled up with food. Yes, that was
the work I needed to do.

Quickly, I rushed to the kitchen. I almost slipped as I
ran. The tiled floor was too smooth to do any hasty
movement upon. I regained my balance and began to
make for the kitchen to get a plate.

Why go for a plate? Why not a pot? my mind spoke to
me.

“Hmm,” I sounded within me. I would go with such idea
so that I would be able to eat three square meal. I
knew Toyosi and her family wouldn’t be available until
late in the evening, so it had been better for me to
request a potful of food so that I could be ‘bellefilled’ I
thought like a child.

I took an empty pot and began to walk to the parlour. I
was filled with faith. Something great must happen
today, I thought. I placed the pot on the table and shut
my eyes. Childishly, I placed my hands on my face and
peeked at the pot from the spaces between the digits
of my hands. I wanted to see the hand of God putting in
the food.
I opened my eyes. Nothing was inside the pot. I shut
my eyes again and changed the direction of my prayers,
speaking in my mind:
Father in heaven, even if your hands are too holy to
handle the laddle and the chicken, why don’t you at least
send Angel Gabriel or Angel Michael to bring the food?

Amen!”

My eyes flashed opened. Nothing was there. I almost
wept. My faith was still strong within me, so I shut my
eyes again:
“Why not send Holy Mary then? Send her to bring me the
food because I am very hungry right now and I will die
soon,” I signed with mu hands this time around. I hope
God understood signed prayers.
I flashed my eyes out of their lids. Slowly this time, I
began to lift the pot cover. I checked it and nothing
was there. It was just as empty as it was. I wept.

It was 2pm already, still there was no food to eat. I
knew what to do; maybe I would just escape the house
and locate my classteacher’s house. Yes, that is what I
would do, I thought.
At a second thought, I jettisoned the idea.
Toyosi is a witch; she would double-cross me on the
road and kill me. I assured myself that Toyosi would
definitely get hold of me on the road.
“That same way she spotted Moses and I running in the
rain that day, she would spot me now,” I signed and
resigned to fate.
I remembered the pot in the kitchen again. Why can’t I
just make do with a chunk of meat alone and forget
about the rice? I doubted if Toyosi would know that I
took one out of the many pieces of meat in the large
pot. They were so many in that pot, laps, gizzards,
abdomen–just name it.

I made a quick move and headed for the kitchen. I
wouldn’t care this time around. I didn’t even care to
look for the big spoon. It had fallen down from the top
of the pot but I didn’t notice it because I didn’t hear the
sound of its tintinnabulum.
I put my hand right inside the pot and held a fat chicken
lap, as fat as my lap. Time to feed my belly with
something. I lifted the meat close to my lips and then a
thought pierced through my heart like needle:
Yield not to temptation
Says who? I thought. I made the second move without
paying attention, then I felt the piercing thought once
more. I dropped the meat right inside the pot and began
to make for the parlour. Then I saw the shadow of a
lady.

It was strange. I had to rush in to see if anyone was
there. To my shock, I saw no one. I looked at the
empty pot on the table and it was not the way I left it.

The cover was partially opened.

I was awed by what I saw!

I wasn’t scared of feasting on the content of the pot
since I had already prayed for it. A half part of chicken
la!d across a heap of rice. The stew was inviting too. I
began to tear the meat apart, not remembering to say a
word of thanks to God who had sent Mary to deliver the
meal.

I was still feeding on the meal when a woman entered,
this time not a shadow. She was a black woman.

I was scared! I thought she was Toyosi. Initially, before
seeing her skin, I thought she was Holy Mary.
It beat my imagination when I saw who she was; my
mother? No, my neighbour. The mother of blind Biodun
and lame la!de!

My lips went apart for shock. She smiled and gave me a
note:
I came in here when you were praying over your empty
pot. Then I knew that I could be an answer to your
prayers, so I turned in the remainder of our Christmas
food. I fled when you came in and now I am back.
Happy Christmas!”