My African Mother, The Queen of Petty.
I’ll tell you when I knew my mum had petty in her. I’m never assigned the role of cooking meat because I always dice a whole piece of meat for myself as “tasting tasting”. I hated that this duty had been taken away from me so when both of my sisters resumed Uni and Mum had visitors, she had no choice but to ask me to go boil meat. She shouted from the living room “I have counted my meat o. Don’t even dare try me.”
Since I had been caught in the past tasting anyhow, I came up with another idea: I sliced off thin parts of every piece of meat after it was cooked, put them inside a black polythene bag and stashed it at the bottom of the freezer. My midnight snack was made, I was happy with myself.
That night, I woke up in the middle of the night to enjoy my life. Brought out two thinly sliced meat, snuck back to my room and had a blast. I washed it down with 5Alive.
The next day, I went back to my stash only to find that it wasn’t there. I removed all the food containers in the freezer, searched the fridge too but didn’t find my meat stash. I knew my mum had taken it and I was genuinely mad at her. I went back to bed angry.
When I woke up, she acted normal. I was ready for a lecture because, at that age, beating had stopped. My mum gave no clue, she even gossiped with me so much so I shifted the blame to my dad. It was just 3 of us in the house. She later sent me to rent a Yoruba movie for her. When I got back home, this woman had a plate of my thinly sliced meat in front of her. Only that it was fried and she was munching away.
I was shocked! She looked at me while chewing loudly for the purpose of annoying me and said “ole gbe, ole gba” Meaning “You stole it, I stole it back.”
How can somebody be that wicked?! I didn’t get over it for days.