You are old enough to be married to a man. Stop taking yourself as a child.
The old woman in backyard would always talk down on her niece. She love to toe this line whenever she wants to make her feel back for whatsoever she might have done that does not please her.
Delilah, a pretty lady with the curves in the right places, would just walk away, looking less-stressed as she had become used to mama's usually banter.
As worst, she would carry at clay pot and walk down to the stream to fetch water.
Her majestic walk like one who dreads the soil, made her appear adorable the more.
All the thickly wealthy men around had sort her out for am affair but her modesty was too high to be bought with money.
On this occasion of another lashing words series from mama, Delilah just smiled and walked away as usual. This time, only with ropes to fetch firewood from the forest across the neighbouring village where other girls of her age would be by now, labouring to gather wood with which to prepare dinner.
I do not need your firewood. Enough for the moon is the charcoal from the burnt Iroko tree that we gathered days ago.
Mama retorted as Delilah walked into the path that leads to the forest.
What baffles one is her ability to absorb all the unpleasant words that her aged aunt often say to her. She had become accustomed to hearing such. She knew that her aunt wants the best for her, perhaps, what she thinks is best isn't near her own thought as a lady if the modern day.
That evening, Delilah returned from her wood fetching escapades, wagging her waist in the company of other ladies. Her beautiful skin shinning under the mild orange moon. Like they say, her hormone is broken and the effect is what can be seen on her body shape and curves.
When she arrived home, mama was already preparing Odudu soup. It was her best soup.
Mama, you couldn't wait for me. Please, step aside, let me continue.
She looked her in the face, moved away from the kitchen chair made of raffia for Delilah to continue preparing her favourite Odudu soup.