Let's Do Small Amebo, Shall We?

Personally, I’m waiting for Baba Mukaila’s burial so I can go and eat burial rice.

Today, we’re going to talk about Baba Mukaila.

But before we get to that, let me tell you a little about my mother’s younger sister, Aunty Sheri. I’ve written about her once but I mentioned her in passing so I don’t think you’ll remember her.

Aunty Sheri is the aunt that won’t stop asking when you’ll bring a man home but if you mistakenly bring a useless man to her, she’ll insult him in front of you and laugh in your faces.

Aunty Sheri will tear anyone to shreds. Even her husband is not spared. She tells everyone that if he moves anyhow, his replacement is only a call away. And we know she’s not joking because Aunty Sheri is currently on her 4th husband.

This Friday, Aunty Sheri burst into our living room, bunched up bedazzled ankara boubou in one hand and her bag in the other, and made her way to the couch. 

“Ah Sheri, you didn’t tell me you were coming”, my mum looked away from the African Magic Yoruba movie she was watching.

“Aunty Mi, there is gist!”, Aunty Sheri said as she settled her large frame into the couch.

“Sheriff”, she rolled her eyes at my father fixing the fridge in the living room.

“Sheri”, my father responded coldly, eyes fixed on the fridge.

Those two had never liked each other. To be honest, if my mother didn’t insist on marrying my father. Aunty Sheri would have hired people to take him out.

“Shior”, she sneered and turned to me. “Hauwa, Omi”

I rushed to kitchen to bring her a sachet of pure water because once aunty sheri says she has gist, the best thing you can do is make her very comfortable so she can properly dish it out.

I handed her the water and she turned her nose up.

“It’s not even cold?”

“Our fridge spoilt”, I throw a nervous smile my father’s way

“When is it never spoilt?”

My father turned to glare at her and she glared right back.

“So what gist do you have for me?”, my mother changed the topic.

Almost like you told her she had won the lottery. Aunty’s sheri’s eyes lit up and she plucked the gele from her head for dramatic effect.

“Do you remember my boss, Baba Mukaila?”

Baba Mukaila was the one of the Heads of Department at Bariga Local Government and as his secretary, Aunty Sheri was the closest to him at work. When Baba Mukaila got promoted from his lowly rank, it came with perks like an increase in salary but more importantly, a seat at the table where government money was often divided.

At one point, the government decided to give department heads new cars and Baba Mukaila went from hopping buses to being the owner of a brand new Kia.

So naturally, a man being a man, Baba Mukaila decided it was time to upgrade his life too. Baba Mukaila took a second wife. However, before taking the second wife, he bragged to everyone, hiding it under the guise of seeking advice.

When he asked Aunt Sheri about it, she egged him on. She knew this would only bring drama but I don’t think she could have envisaged what happened next.

Baba Mukaila would show up to the office with his new wife sometimes and on some days, she would meet him at the office and they would go home together. It was not wild to imagine he was neglecting his first wife but who can tell a man how to run his home?

Things went fine until BAT became president and the economy went to the gutters.

The illegal money stopped and only the people in the higher echelons of power had access to it. Baba Mukaila was broke.

At this point, Aunty Sheri asked for another sachet of water and I ran into the kitchen because the story was too sweet.

Word on the street is Baba Mukaila can’t afford his second wife anymore and she left him but continues to hassle him for upkeep. In addition to that, his old wife also hounds him for her share.

Baba Mukaila could not keep up.

Aunty Sheri said one day, he slumped outside the office.

Why? He is starving. He’s broke. None of his wives are interested in cooking for him. He can’t buy food outside as often because his salary almost never lasts, seeing as he has two families.

The last time, Baba Mukaila fainted outside the local government. Last week, he slumped on the staircase. A month ago, it was in the bathroom. Everytime nobody has heard from Baba Mukaila in a while, they know he has fainted, so they go searching.

The last time, Aunty Sheri had to buy him 300 beans. It was the smell of the beans that woke it up.

At this point, Aunty Sheri burst into tears. She could not hold it anymore.

My father hissed and looked her way, “You hate men”

Aunty Sheri nodded firmly, “I hate men that cannot think”

Now, noticing that Aunty Sheri feeds him every time he faints, Baba Mukaila has started toasting her.

As she squeezed the pure-water into her mouth, Aunty Sheri vowed that the next time he faints, she’ll let him go to heaven from there.

Personally, I’m waiting for Baba Mukaila’s burial so I can go and eat burial rice. This economy is affecting my mental health and what can cure it is hot burial Jollof.

So let him just help us.