“Get up! Its three minutes past five. We are almost late for mass!” I shouted as I pulled away their blanket. I didn't hear the alarm clock again.
My cousins dashed off to their bathroom to bath. Thank God NEPA was living up to expectation, I was able to make good use of time.
We had thirty minutes to get set before Emeka a friend of mine down the street drives by.
I had a date with Mmesoma this morning and I can’t wait to get to the church – our date venue. These little urchins of mine were blowing my plan to shreds already I thought to myself as I hurriedly dressed up.
She was seated already, a bit far away from where I expected her to be. I couldn’t just swap chairs just like that. Coming late has its consequence, I dare say.
The plan was to get a copy of the ‘Abide In My Word’ plus an ‘Order of Mass’ for children and hand it over to Mmeso so that her mass will be enriched and her brain challenged to participate actively in the mass.
I didn’t plan well. No I would rsther say I failed to plan. I forgot that we were at the tail end of the month. Whatever copies I may purchase would be irrelevant for the new month which was just days away. Mmeso deserves something that would outlast one Sunday believe me.
I was forced to be just a spectator; she was far from me; curse myself for coming late and I had no book to give as promised.
Our eyes held each other for a second and I saw a promise broken and unfulfilled. I was smitten with guilt for a promise that never lived up to realization; just like a guy who stood his lady up with no plausible excuse.
She may not understand even if I explained. However I have come to learn that no excuse can be given for mission not accomplished.
Let me tell you something about Mmeso… By now you must have known that she’s just seven years old. She has two little sisters as beautiful as her; their names I know not. The same pouty lips and innocent eyes you expect from little children who aren’t versed in the trickery and complexities of our world graced those little trusty faces of theirs.
How I wish I was their father; he must be a proud man. Even though I can still bet on my gut feeling that a male child will put the sowing of his oats to rest – certain things never change on firma terra Africa.
You should be asking me about Mmeso’s mum I guess. I use to know her; dark, tall and a lovely lady. Been long since I set my eyes on her; she was pregnant and I bet must have put to bed. And if I were to make a wish, bouncing baby boy would be my take even though girls like Mmeso do bounce too.
Mmeso had no company today, not me of course ‘cos I failed her - woefully indeed. Her eyes bowed to sleep as I watched; couldn’t do anything about it. Her little maid was kind enough to allow Mmeso rest her head on her laps and slept like a princess – did I mention somewhere that she was a princess?
Gritting my teeth in frustration and unable to change the cause of event, I felt like God watching Adam devour the the forbidden fruit unable to intervene in time and space.
Next Sunday, I swear by Amadioha’s left foot (as my friend Michael will always say) I wouldn’t disappoint her again.