Maxwell

I stop walking. This seems like the best place to sit without disturbance. It was a bad day but I'll empty this tray. I must. Stars spot the sky but it is dark. Dark enough for Mummy to be back from church. I drop my tray on the gutter fence. My head pad falls but I don’t pick it up. I sit and reflect on the day's sales. Or the day's wandering. I sold nothing. But I must sell it all. I have to make my mummy and daddy happy this year. My 2021 promise. They will love me if my tray is empty even if it means I go home late. But I sold nothing. 

I pick the finely-wrapped sliced pawpaw and watermelon one-by-one and admire them using the fluorescent street light in front of the building opposite me. 

I have no idea what Mummy will do to me. I know what will happen but I don’t know how it will happen and that makes me shiver and I can’t tell if it is the cool evening breeze that’s hovering my legs and penetrating my body through my shorts. 

I am hungry too. Mummy had said "Eat the last one when you've sold all. But don’t touch it if you still have at least five left. Bring it all back home." I can't even eat one because I didn't sell any. All 30 of them. I might not even eat dinner tonight. 

***

A man is approaching up the hill. I am tired of praying that the next passerby should demand for one pawpaw or watermelon. My legs ache, like my bones are being rubbed against each other. My belly is squeezing from the inside.

He gets to me and asks the usual questions Lagos residents ask hawkers sitting by the roadside. I reply with grunts and he leaves early. 

Mummy is chasing me round the street with Orogun – a cooking stick – in her hand. I’m carrying a plate of rice in both hands and I’m running as fast as I can. I get to a corner and hide. I’m trying to catch my breath and eat at the same time. I can’t wait anymore. I am really hungry. I scoop with my hands. Then I hear a voice from above, "Pawpaw boy! Pawpaw boy!"

"Pawpaw boy!" 

I wake up.

Why does sleeping where you shouldn't better than on your bed sometimes?

It’s another Lagos man, sitting with another man under the street light. 

"PawPaw boy, Come." Why is he so loud?

Mummy always say, "Don't answer strangers." But I know this isn't a kidnapper. He is just curious and concerned. I don’t want to be disrespectful. I’m just going to walk to him. 

I pick up my head pad.

"How old are you?" His first question.

"What class are you?" 

"What school do you attend?"

I am so exhausted. He is going to ask these questions, at most, thrice because I am not interested in wasting the little energy I have on a man who won’t buy a pawpaw at the end of the day.

His friend asks, "Will your mother beat you for not selling anything?"

My heart sinks. 

I refuse to answer that question. Lagosians always act like they know everything going on with everyone on the street.

"Go home and rest. Don't sleep there." He finally dismisses.

I walk back. Pick up my tray and walk home. Angry and afraid. That’s how I feel. Angry that no human could ‘pity’ me and buy just one pawpaw or watermelon. Afraid of what is waiting at home.

They are already eating dinner. Daddy is absent. Mummy’s focus is on her meal. Tade and Grace immediately stop eating and start glaring at my full tray for close to a minute. Mummy doesn’t seem to notice. She tells me to go get my food in the kitchen. 

I return and sit beside Grace. 

What?? Two Meats?? Is this my soup?

I am sure I picked up Daddy's meal. I’m about to go return it to the kitchen when Grace whispers into my ear, "Today’s your birthday. Daddy told us."

It takes me a few seconds to gather my thoughts. 

"My birthday?"

I forgot. Today is January 8. I'm 10 years old.

I suddenly start eating, happily. I pick up a meat and took a bite.

I’m still chewing when my eyes catch the tray I placed atop of the fridge. Suddenly my happiness evaporates. Mummy haven’t looked up from her meal since I walked in. She may not have seen the tray.

What will happen? Should I rush my meal before Mummy notices and stops me?

Will she beat me or force me to chew a full bowl of dry pepper?

Will I be forgiven because it's my birthday?

Will I?

***

"Maxwell!" Mummy's voice rings out. "You didn't sell anything?" 

"Ye...Ye...Yess" I know I shouldn't have thought I will be spared.

Then she says, "Take it inside before your Daddy comes back."

I can’t believe my ears. Why is she so nice? She wasn't this nice during my last birthday. What is happening? 

I am not done with my meal. The Semovita tastes different today. Everything feels different. I am so unwilling to leave my meal because I am still hungry. I didn’t wash my hand. I pick up the tray and carry it to our room. It is dark but Baba Tayo's generator light dimly lit the room. I find myself smiling alone in the dark. I hear the door close behind me after I place the tray on the floor. I turn around and the figure's height spells doom. 

"So, you didn't sell anything and you want to eat my food... "

"Mummy, sorry, please, Mummy, sorry." I don’t know if what she said was a question but that is all I can utter. She draws the carved cooking stick out from the back of her skirt. I know my chants of "Mummy please" isn't going to change anything but what else can I say?

***

Today is Saturday. With my tray sitting confidently on my head, I dash into the street. Smiling as much as I can. It is all I can do not to laugh. I refuse to be dejected. I have ignored the pain of my broken pinky finger and also ignored that I haven’t sold anything. I am just going to move around, happy. 

I know I will have to feign 'sad' come nightfall. Mummy may have beaten me last night, but she is dead this morning. And I am happy about it. I am.