As I pull-up outside my family home in Enfield in my 2nd hand car, (which my father once owned), I feel anything but excited to be back here.
It isn't the dirty London streets, the terrible traffic or wailing sirens of police cars that bother me; in fact living away from London I've almost missed these things. It is my household that I have mixed feelings about.
There is my mother, Gladys, who still treats me like a big kid, even though I'm the eldest out of two children.
There is my younger sister, Peace (yes, that's actually her name) who is the only one I can really tolerate.
My family see Peace as the golden child. Peace is little Miss Perfect and can do no wrong… if only my parents really knew.
Finally there's my dad, Mazi Albert Aloysius Nwadiké. My father is the decision-maker in our family. At times my father acts like a dictator; he has this might-is-right mentality sometimes and rarely displays his emotions. He is the main reason for my apprehensive feelings.
I step out of my car, leaving my stuff in the boot. I walk up to the door and ring the bell; a few moments later I hear a click and the door opens. I'm greeted with jubilant welcome. Mikel! You're back! My sister screams. She giggles and throws her arms around me.
As we embrace, the smell of herbs and spices softly tickle my nostrils. She's probably been helping mum out in the kitchen.
My sister lets go and takes a step back to look at me; I stare back; her sleeveless black top and knee high jean-shorts show-off her naturally toned arms and legs. It’s as if her body had been carefully sculpted. Her peanut brown skin looking flawless as usual. I know guys would probably be casting looks in her direction by now.
“Mikel, so you decided to update you’re wardrobe.” She says cheekily.
“Yeah, well you know you... gotta live a little.” I reply. Deciding to take what she said as a compliment and not teasing.
She tugs at my new Ralph Lauren top and looks my jeans. I smile back proudly. I had gotten bored of my boring and basic that I had since my school and college days so I decided to try out something different.
I head straight into the living room and slump down on the sofa. My sister plants herself down right next to me and yells out to mum.
“MUMMY, Obiora is home! She yells out, almost damaging my ear-drum.
I hear the slip-slap sound of my mother’s slippers in the hallway getting closer. I get up and hold out my arms as she enters the living room. My mother practically charges at me and squeezes me,
pulling me tight against her frame. She has to tip-toe to kiss me on the cheek. The smell of African cooking hangs on her clothes.
“Nwa’m, kedu? My son how are you?” She asks smiling brightly.
“Fine, thanks mum. How have you been?” I ask smiling back.
“Well, we thank God. Anyway, my son, we can talk later. Biko, you must come and eat. Mummy has prepared food. Peace, oya! Come and help me set the finish in t he kitchen; your father will soon be home.”
As they leave to and finish up, I hear a car pull up outside. I pause for a moment. I slowly go up to the window and peak to see who it is. A tall and regal figure of a man is walking up to the house.
“Obiora! Come and help set the set the table!” my mother yells from the dinning room. I turn and go to the dinning room. Peace has already laid out the plates and cutlery, so I go into the kitchen and carry the dishes of food back in. The sound of the of the front being firmly shut sounds in the background. I take my seat opposite my sister. Just as I get comfortable the
tall and regal figure enters. We make eye contact. I force a smile and rise to greet the man.
“Hello, Dad.”
Comments