If you had lived with an African mother, you would understand more about the experience I'm about to share. African mothers, especially Nigerian mothers, have ways in which they respond to every situation. They give sarcastic replies to questions at times and also sarcastically say things for which they meant the opposite.
My younger brother had to go through one of my mother's sarcastic replies, which added fuel to the fire and gave him the beatings of his life—an experience he will never forget.
There was a day my mother wanted to send me on an errand to the market, but I was too lazy to go, and despite her giving me an order to go and get the ingredients we would use for cooking lunch, I respectfully declined. This didn't go well with her; I can see it on her face that she was angry, but I pretended like I saw nothing.
"Oyin, get a pen and paper and come list the ingredients we need for cooking," mom said to me in the morning after breakfast.
"Be fast about it before the sunrise; I don't want you to complain about the sun being too hot, because that's always your excuse," she further said.
"Why must I be the one to go to the market? I have a younger sister," I murmured.
"I heard you; I heard you clearly; why don't you tell me to go myself?" My mom replied.
"That would be much better and faster too; you can go, mom, thanks," I said, and I went to the room.
She didn't say anything about me going to the market anymore, and I thought she had agreed to go, not knowing she was annoyed by what I said.
Later that afternoon, I saw her dressed, and I rushed to ask if she was going out.
"Mom, are you going somewhere?" I asked.
"No, I want to go and take my bath. You're asking me stupid questions; better get out of my way before I land you a dirty slap," mom responded angrily.
Immediately after she said that, I moved back and watched her as she stepped out of the house. I knew she was angry because I didn't go to the market as she had ordered.
"Does your mom want to give you a dirty slap?" my younger sister asked jokingly.
"How does that concern you?" I replied to my brother and went back to my room.
After about forty minutes, my mom came back with the things she bought from the market. Immediately after I heard the sound of the gate, I rushed out to get the bag from her.
"Welcome, mom," I said.
"Thank you," she replied with some kind of attitude, yet I pretended as if I didn't notice anything.
I tried all my possible best not to say anything that would annoy her more, so I kept quiet all through the cooking process, and before she completed any sentence while I was helping her in the kitchen with the preparation of lunch, I would quickly do it.
I was thinking that would make her less angry, but it didn't work. I can't possibly keep quiet throughout the cooking; I have to talk and pass comments on the cooking, but how will I do that? It won't annoy her more.
My mom prepared vegetable soup, and I couldn't ask her to give me a taste. She stepped out of the kitchen for a while, and I tasted the soup, then noticed the salt wasn't enough. I decided to tell her when she came back into the kitchen.
"Mom, the salt for the vegetable soup is not enough; I tasted it," I said.
"Chef, add salt to it, as per the chief chef that you are," my mom replied sarcastically.
I understand her sarcastic way of speaking, so I knew she didn't mean what she just said. That makes me ignore her and just watch as she continues.
cooking.
I knew quite well that my mom doesn't like taking much salt in her stews and soups, as does my dad, but I like adding enough salt—not more than enough, but just a little enough to bring out the taste of my food.
If my mom wasn't angry, she would have asked me to prepare the swallow meal (semovita), but due to her anger, she prepared the semovita herself.
After cooking, she dished the food, and each one of us took our food to the dining table to eat. Just as my younger brother took two morsels, he complained of not having enough salt in the food.
"Mom, this soup did not have enough salt," my younger brother said.
I and my younger sister looked at ourselves and pitied my brother.
"Stand up, go, and add salt to it, chief chef," my mother said sarcastically.
He doesn't understand my mother's sarcastic way of speaking.
My younger brother stood up and headed to the kitchen. We all thought he wanted to add salt to his soup, not knowing he wanted to add salt to the pot of soup.
I was trembling on his behalf because I knew he had added fuel to the fire. My mother stood up because she heard the sound of the spoon, and the rest of us were on the dining table except for my dad and mom, who sat in the living room.
My mom went to the kitchen and saw my younger brother stirring the soup together.
"What are you doing?" my mom asked angrily.
"You asked me to add salt to the soup," my brother replied.
Before he could finish the statement, my mom landed a hot slap on his cheek, which shook him off balance.
"How dare you? Who asked you? What effrontery! You have the guts to add salt to the soup I prepared," my mother snapped angrily.
My younger brother couldn't say a word; he was just standing helpless. He tried to say a word, and my mom gave him another slap.
"What is wrong with you children? Your sister disobeyed my order by not going to the market, and you have the right to add salt to my soup." " Mom further spoke angrily.
Mom stormed out of the kitchen, leaving my younger brother in tears. At that point, no one could say a word because it was clear that Mom was angry. Dad supported the way she slapped my younger brother because what he did wasn't right.
If he hadn't done that, mom might not be so angry, but his action that day added more fuel to the fire, which made him regret doing that.
Thanks for your time, and your comments will be appreciated.
