Mrs. Kwafia

The fuchure was imminent.

Crickets conducting their choir practice in the thin blade grass fields. Orange clouds, up and above, building. Parting ways, ever so kwikly fo deh sun to pose in the firmaments’ catwalk.

Indoors, in the Boys’ Quarters, shouts and screams. Upstairs, downstairs, about turn, the children are playing. She calmly said to her five year old twins, Ata the boy, and Ataa the girl;

“Would anyone want Hausa Koko (millet porridge) and Koseh (dumpling) this morning?”

Ata and Ataa responded, yes mummy in unison. Quibbles, quibbling arising. 

“Ataa, oldest of the twins by minutes, said to Ata, I am having all of it and none for you my broda. Ata said to Ataa, we will see about dat my sista.”

Mrs. Kwafia interrupted, only if you two behave, bathe and dress in a hot twenty minutes, deal?

On their merry way they went. Cleaned their teeth with a piece of miswak (chewing stick) each. It makes for the strongest of enamel they say and fetching two buckets of water for their baths.

After bathing, Ata and Ataa whispered sweet nothings on what to wear. They came out from their rooms, dressed in south american, tribal print overalls sewn by their daddy, Mr. Faiko, who had left at dawn for work. Mr. Faiko had been given a contract to dapper up, the unisex local football outfit, Yensah United. An international cup and awards winning team.

Aye! Mrs. Kwafia said to the twins, that’s approximately fifteen minutes and fifteen seconds, I am impressed with your timing, younguns. To their high seats at the high oak table in the kitchen. Bulging eyes, licking thy lips ready to scatter the calabash, poured Hausa Koko and Koseh.

The twins made quick work of the brekkie delight, conscious of mummys’ need to drop them to school across Lake Kaikos and be at work in forty five minutes. 

Mrs. Kwafia left yards away from the quarters’ to the lake, prepping the motor powered canoe. Bags packed and lunch boxes intact, ready for the ride to the reputed home school, Kaikos Acavoca.

She huffed into the horn, the birds in the bamboo trees flashed and dispersed, dropping leaves as if it was autumn. This was a call to the twins who were in the Boys’ Quarters, washing and cleaning up the utensils.

Boy oh boy, Ata and Ataa loved this call, because this was an indication of an adventurous start to their school day, with other pupils in their driverless cars in congested traffic.