I knew it was the end of the road for me when I heard Mama lock the only door that led outside the house that night from my room. It only meant one thing: my freedom was in her hands now.
Still, I dragged myself out of my room all dressed in my party attire, with my new Christmas braids swinging left and right as I walked. My lips shone brightly with lip gloss that had already started to fade, and my eyes shot wide open immediately after I saw Mama sitting on the sitting room couch.
"But Mama I'm..." I tried talking.
“Sit,” she said, tight-lipped, and not even looking at me.
“Mummy, please. I already told my friends I was coming to the party. I can’t cancel again!" I cried, stamping my feet on the floor.
She didn’t flinch. “I don't care. All I care about is not letting you go and shake your waist at that party filled with boys and girls that don't value their existence.”
I threw my hand in the air. “Mum! How could you say that?”
“I can say whatever I want!” Her voice rose. “You think I don’t know what happens at those parties? The recklessness? Ohhh, I was your age once too, and those parties kept me where I am today!”
I blinked. There was something in her voice that seemed to crack a little. I have heard her stories of how Papa got her pregnant on one of their escapades at such parties. Only for Papa to run away when he found out she was pregnant. But I was just too angry to care. I wrapped my arms around my chest in anger.
She stood up and walked back into the room. “Thank God you're already dressed. I'll be out in five minutes. We're going to dinner at my sister's place it's Christmas Eve."
“Do you just derive joy treating me this way or is there something you're hiding from me?" I asked in a low but tear-laced voice.
She stopped just at the door that led into her room. “If only you'll for a day see that I wish you well, baby. Maybe you'll understand me better, but you might not survive it if you be me for a day."
I snapped. “And I wish you could live one day in my life. Then you’ll see it’s not easy being your daughter.”
She sighed and walked into her room.
A few minutes later we were on our way to Aunty Faustina's house. We drove in silence. The tension between us was palpable.
We got to Aunty Faustina's house, and she ushered us into her living room, which smelled like freshly baked bread and lavender. "Felix Navidad" played mildly from her speaker. The kind of clean house where you remove your shoes at the door and speak with your inside voice.
Her kids helped her husband set the table while Mama helped her finish up in the kitchen. But I didn't care to join in any chore. I was still angry.
Dinner with her was filled with so many protocols. Tablecloths. Napkins. Wine glasses filled with cranberry juice and candles. Sometimes I wondered why they took dinner so seriously. Like it was a ritual. I sat stiffly beside Mummy, still fuming. We were done eating the main course when dessert came in fancy trays with round golden biscuits.
“Fortune cookies!” Aunty Justina called it when Mama asked what it was. “You just break it, read the message, and reflect. A little something my husband learned while in America,"
Mama laughed. "Faustina." She called jokingly. "We're Africans."
"Just go with the flow sis. It's fun.”
We watched them pick one each and read out the message inside. Then Mama hissed under her breath but cracked one. I did too.
We both read: “Walk in someone else’s shoes today.”
Mama scoffed. “I have more slippers than shoes."
I scoffed too. The only time I was in agreement with Mama was that night.
We both took it literally until I woke up the next morning, which was Christmas and something felt wrong.
My face seemed different. And my chest seemed to be inflated so much. I quickly rushed to my mirror and stared. My eyes widened, feared gripped me. My body wasn’t mine; they were.
“MUMMY!” I screamed.
At the same time, I heard my own voice scream back at me from Mama's bedroom.
"JULIET!"
I quickly rushed out of my room. Meeting Mama or me in the corridor. Same scream. Same faint. Same scared look.
We stared at each other like criminals in court.
“What did you do to my body? I yelled.
"Nothing. You have my body too!" Mama yelled back.
“The fortune biscuit!” We both screamed as it clicked.
The next two months were pure chaos. We had tried everything possible with Aunty Faustina's help to get back into our bodies but nothing good came out of it. We made sure no one else knew our predicament except Aunty Faustina and her husband. I'm sure if we did, no one would believe us. Even Aunty Faustina didn't believe me at first until Mama told her a secret that only she and Mama knew about in my body.
Coping was hard. I began running Mama's catering business. Taking wedding orders and baby showers, with her crazy clients shouting at me over puff-puff. One time, a client even accused me of stealing her goat meat which nearly got me locked up. I cried in the store room that day. I was beginning to understand how being Mama wasn't an easy feat at all. Even though I had bragged to her that I was going to prove to her that being her was something easy.
I thought it was more freedom and parties if I wanted to. I never knew the commitments that came with it. Especially as a single mother. Missing a day to work meant not having food at home. Also, for almost eleven years of work, Mama has not been promoted. No matter how hard she worked for the company.
Meanwhile, Mama, on the other hand, was struggling through the teenage baggage in my body. She had bragged that it would be easy for her. To her, it was like being back in the 90s when she was in high school.
It wasn't long before she realized it was something different. She was popular during her time but I was just trying to feel along with the constant bullying from friends and colleagues. I guess she didn't know this at all. This made it hard for her to cope.
We would come back each day with complaints and share them with each other over dinner. Gradually, our bond began to grow. We began to understand how it wasn't easy being each other. We ate so many fortune cookies wishing to be back in our bodies. But none worked.
The new year's passed and nothing happened. We had already accepted the life we had and began putting in work to make it better.
Mama started doing small things in school. One time she defended a shy girl during assembly. Her story trended on the group WhatsApp. That earned me my popularity overnight.
And me? I started submitting her CV to new firms. Luckily she was employed in a bigger firm with a better salary. But before I quit the old firm, I wrote the MD on Facebook and made sure to tell him words he would regret using Mama's talent over the years without proper pay and promotion.
By Easter, I was already doing great with Mama's new job.
And Mama was finally invited to sit with the cool girls in my school at lunch.
That Easter Sunday, Aunty Justina’s husband took us out for dinner in a fancy restaurant. When the cookies came again. We rejected at first with the fear that something worse might happen this time. But Aunty Faustina convinced us to join.
This time my notes read: "Now you understand better."
And Mama's note read. "A little love. A little guidance."
We felt that was it for us. No switching back to our bodies. We had accepted our fate and drove back in silence. That night, we slept in the same bed. For the first time since I was ten.
I woke up the next morning. To a different body. My body. Same with Mama.
I would have written how happy we felt that day. But no words can explain our joy that morning.
Now, we have to catch up with our lives we missed while living another person's life.
As for the parties, I still go to parties but with permission from Mama and warnings to avoid fortune cookies. In fact, she even helps me choose my outfit.
