Nkita was the first Igbo word I learnt. I do not think I knew another Igbo word for a long time after that. I am fluent in my language now. I will tell you the story of how I learnt to speak it later. During the time I spent in Enugu away from Kaduna, I managed to drink kerosene because I thought it was water. I had my first taste of breadfruit. I did not like it then. I do not like it now. My grandmother cooked a lot of the meals. She is simply the best cook I have ever met. It was at my grandmother’s table I first had egusi stew. I have had it once again since then. It is the best meal I have ever had. I had my first nutri-c too. My maternal aunt bought us a pack of it. I loved it then. I loathe it now.
I went to school in the village during the time I was in Enugu. I do not remember much of the experience other than that I wore the school uniform of my school in Kaduna and that my siblings went too. Then came the time to go back. And we did. But something fundamental had changed for my family. My parents decided we were not going to live in the North anymore. The violence was a lot more than they were willing to handle or expose their children too.
The decision was made, but the process was slow. My father moved first. He chose a city called Uyo. Uyo is the capital of a state called Akwa Ibom. But we (the kids) all thought he was in Oyo. When we wrote letters to him, we addressed it to Oyo State. You should know Oyo is 694.46 km away from Akwa Ibom, where Uyo is. Thankfully, my mother mailed them. To the right address always. He started a business and tried to get things ready for us. He would come to Kaduna every 3 months for a month visit and back to Uyo.
A memory I have is of waking up in the dead of night to blue lights in the room and some gospel music in Igbo playing on the radio. I think my dad came home with the radio. It is also possible the radio was there and we just never used it. I loved it when my father was home. That meant goodies. It also meant no corporal punishments. I could be naughty, and my mom wouldn’t whoop my bum because my father wouldn’t allow it.
My favourite snack was Danish cookies. I still love it. A lot. And that is important to know because I have no sweet tooth. I do not appreciate sweet foods. The other snack I enjoyed as a child was a candy bar made with groundnut called goddy goddy and pastries with blueberry and coconut chips in it. My father would bring those home on all his trips home.
My father only eats abacha made by my mother. I do not know his exact reason. One time my mother made it with too much pepper. And that day I learnt the lesson that perhaps cold water doesn’t drown the heat from spice. I was going to stick my tongue in the fridge to lick ice. My father caught me in time and fed me cold milk. It works.
My mother liked fresh tomatoes a lot while I was growing up. She would chew them raw. It was so strange to me, for I was a child who hated all manner of fruits and vegetables growing up. I would like to announce to all my readers that I am an adult who intensely loves tomatoes and vegetables. It is growth. But I think the child me would be appalled.
