Diary of an Ibadan Girl: Entry 9

Today, I decided to bake and cut a cake to celebrate a month of my uselessness. It’s in red velvet and cream and it tastes really good.

Actually, it’s just Morola’s extra big birthday cake that I ordered for her birthday party. I can’t actually bake anything. Which is why I am laying extra emphasis on “my uselessness”. I am just counting on God to bless me with so much money so that I can keep affording expenses like this because in the real sense, this cake could have come pretty handy if only I had taken those catering lessons that I wanted to take during the ASUU strike of that year that everybody used to pick up skills. But hey, here am I doing jangilover with ineptitude.

Don’t get me wrong, actually. It’s not like I want to be a useless person. It’s just that, personally, I like being one of those people who do not have their life together. It’s always fun waiting to see what happens next. Or rightly put, it has always been fun awaiting the unexpected in my life. I just no longer think anything is making sense anymore which is why I am worried about making moves to get better.

Anyways, talk is cheap. Today, there was a party at the house and I’m usually in charge of cake at such gatherings like this one. So, that’s why I was cutting cake and stuff. Have I mentioned that Morola is my younger sister? Well, she is. Morolayo Asake, like Maami likes to call her is my younger sister that just clocked 19 today. This may sound cliche but yeah, they grow up so fast. I remember when she was just 9 and I was 11. Lool. Nothing exactly significant happened at the time, I just wanted to point out the fact that I am two years older because she’s always acting like she’s older which she clearly isn’t. Probably because she’s gotten quite bigger than I am in recent years.

Anyways, today was her birthday party that we’ve been planning for months. I am actually glad it went well because if it hadn’t, Morola will not let me live to see the next day. I had volunteered to be the planner and everything rested solely on how well I made the arrangements.

The day after I got back from Sekky’s place was actually when Morolayo got back from school. So, my train of thought hasn’t even had much business going towards Idris’s place because Morola has been killing me with ridiculous gist. Thank God for siblings sha.

I remember getting back from my friend’s house carrying a sullen look on my face. My mother was still asking me what went wrong when my sister walked into the house with her jagbajantis load. My first thought was even that, maybe something had happened because she never came home with all of her load at once. When it’s not as if she’s not going back next year. Morola is in her third year at the University so she still has like, one more year of school and so it was unexpected. Like, the excess load that she came with wasn’t enough, she now used bandage to tie her left leg again. Iya Morenike was frantic and had already started asking questions even before Morola was allowed to enter the house.

“Oko mi, ki lo Shey e? Ki lo lo mo ese bayii tori oloun?”, “my dear, what is wrong with you? What in God’s name did you tie on your leg?”, my mother had asked my sister that afternoon.

By this time, I was just observing because I know my sister very well and I knew she was just being really dramatic with the whole leg thing. I sha waited for her to provide details. Have I also mentioned that Morola can complain for Africa? Haha. Wait for it.

“Ekuule, Maami. Ewo, emi o pada si hostel yen mo o”, “Good day, mother. See, I’m not going back to that hostel again o”, Morolayo has said to my mother that day and the disturbing part was that she didn’t even have to speak any further. My mother that kuku wants all of her children to be staying at home before, she didn’t even bother to prod Morola and ask why she had come to that decision. She just went to the kitchen to put Amala water on fire. When it came to responsibilities, my mother regarded feeding her children top priority and It wasn’t until my father came home and asked why she had her leg wrapped in a bandage that Morola eventually told us why.

Morola said that it was because she couldn’t deal with her roommate and her lifestyle. She said that she had complained several times about the sanitary practices of her roommate but that one clearly couldn’t be bothered. She said that the final stroke that broke the camel’s back was when she woke that morning and wanted to go to the toilet which was outside of their room that she now mistakenly used her leg to bang the custard container that her roommate usually used to store her urine and the contents poured on her leg and on the floor of the room.

So, basically, my sister decided she was no longer going to keep dealing with any of that and had decided to come home. Even me, I was wondering why she was now wearing a cast on her leg and wanted to say, is it not just urine that poured on her leg? Why was she acting as if she needed a new leg? But I knew better. So, I just said, “Welcome home, baby” instead.

Since then, Morola has taken over all of the space in our room. I was just wondering how and why she has this much belongings but I didn’t have to wonder for long. Because, half of her supposed clothes were my clothes that I have been looking for for a long time. Even the ones that will probably never be her size, she packed everything. There’s actually little to what I can vent about when it comes to my property at this time considering the fact that there’s usually nowhere for me to wear all my nice “baffs” to. So, I just watch as new items resurfaces each day and not complain about their disappearances thereafter.

Today, my sister’s “he’s not my boyfriend” friend came for her party and I’ve been watching her doing the whole downplay act thing since only for this boy to stand up and say he wants to give speech in front of everybody. I am sha happy for her as it was only perfect timing because my parents had left the party at this time or else, Morola would have had serious explanations to do about why a strange boy was kissing her forehead in her father’s house. Something that I cannot even get away with, my younger sister is using cobra’s head to rub her nose proudly. If you don’t know, the only people that are allowed to display public affection to the Ajibade girls were their parents/brothers and even that one is mythical explanation.

Anyways, I am already tired of this house and all the drama that’s surrounding me lately. NYSC should do and post mans. Postings are supposed to be out by next week and it actually feels like a light year away. I can’t wait to start my service year in Abuja, to be honest.

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