Were you ever told that whatever goes into the mouth of an infant by the way of them picking it up from the floor and eating doesn't kill them?
Babies eat alot. Let me rephrase, they are always picking up stuff to put in their mouth; Sand, toys, doll, phones, books...literally everything but the things they're supposed to actually eat. It's just like they're questioning and wanting to test/taste why those things aren't edible.
Young children follow suit - Another stubborn group. I was never a child who troubled my parents. Maybe a little. My Nigerian mother was always there to not fall the hands of her fellow naija mothers so she was always knocking the evil spirit out of me.
I returned home from school one afternoon to find some of our neighbours standing around my mother. Apparently, my neighbour's young kid, David, had opened and drank from his mother's bottle of Sprite. His playmate who was with him at the time had begged him for a sip of the drink but David did not give him any. I'm not surprised. That boy's very stingy.
Uche, David's friend reported David to his mum hoping he'll get punished. It was in course of interrogation that she discovered that what her son drank was Kerosene. She became alarmed and went to my mother who called her and I don't know what else they did.
I only walked in to see David sipping from a tin of milk. One whole tin! My whole life, I had never been given a tin of milk to drink. Not even to use for tea, alone. I was surprised and an idea occured to me.
About two days later, I drank Kerosene. I developed mild stomach ache but while I was cursing myself for ever drinking something as that, my mum was panicking and running helterskelter. She got me a whole tin milk. For just me. You can imagine the joy. I almost cried out of excitement. I finished it in one long gulp.
Days after, I drank kerosene again, my mum gave me milk. It wasn't like the kerosene was not kept in a safe place or that I couldn't tell liquids apart. I could. But I always knew how to set things up cause I was as mischievous as they come.
It happened a few more times. And always, my mother would scold me but still give me my trophy: milk! It had obviously gotten too much and my mother could tell I was up to no good.
One day, I took a sweet swig of my then favourite drink: kerosene. When my mum found out, she started to run around as usual. When she called me, I bounced inside, held my stomach and wrinkled up my face like I was in pain. Smart kid!
....
Rather than my tin milk, what I saw was a bottle of kernel oil and a child's worst nightmare - Mr do-good. Stupid as I was, I asked,
"mummy, what of the milk?"
She replied, "see am here. Them say milk no good. Say if person drink Kerosene, na kernel oil him suppose take."
I was stupid shaaa. I began to cry, asking that she goes to get me milk. My dear people, before I could finish that sentence, I heard "tawaiii" on my back. I don't know where she got her cane from. I never saw her holding any. That's how this woman made me drink that oil. Every sip I took was followed by a welldone pat from Dr do-good.
I cannot forget that day. The memory makes me want to shed tears of both pain(my mama flogging no be here) and thanksgiving(..what if she had not stopped the behaviour?).
The only problem I have now is. If you see all of my siblings, they're all fair. I am the only dark person. I'm certain if was all that kernel oil I drank that day that altered my skin color.
SMH!