The sizzling aroma of onion and tomato paste in hot palm oil filled the air. It was an aroma I was familiar with, one I loved inhaling for whatever reason best known to me. I stood beside Mama Chinedu in her cramped kitchen as she stirred the fried onions and tomato with her wooden paddle.
"Clang! Clang!"
The ladle went against the pot matching the loud rhythm of the Lagos buzz and car horns I could hear from her kitchen window. On a closer look from her kitchen window, I could see the Lagos yellow buses zooming about on the ever-busy Lagos road, which was just a stone's throw from our apartment.
Now I understood why her son, Chinedu, loved standing by the window and looking into the distance whenever he helped his mum cook in the kitchen.
I took my eyes back to Mama Chinedu. She was still stirring with purpose and humming on an unfamiliar song. Her vibrant Ankara wrapper wrapped tightly in her waist in a typical African woman style. I smiled and shook my head.
"No matter how educated one can be, you can never take out the African in them", I mumbled to myself.
"What?" Mama Chinedu asked, looking over her shoulder at me.
"Nothing" I vehemently blurted out. I never thought I would be that loud for her to hear me.
She stared at me for some seconds then she smiled and returned to stirring her pot. “Pass me that pepper and please help me unwrap that seasoning cube,” she said, pointing toward a small container on the counter.
I quickly reached out and handed the pepper to her then I watched as she expertly poured in the amount she needed into the bubbling pot. The steam from the pot steadily kissed her face, but she ignored it even though she was sweating. Then she washed her hands off the pepper from the sink, reached for the hem of her wrapper, and wiped her sweaty face before she returned to adding other ingredients into the pot, still humming the song.
"What song is that?" I asked. I couldn't bring myself to stop wondering what song she was humming to.
"It's an old Sunny Nneji's song Oruka. Do you know it" she asked as she sang a line from the song.
I shook my head in ignorance.
"It's an old song. Usually one of our best then during Valentine's Day or any wedding ceremony," she explained.
"I see" I replied.
I watched as she reduced her fire as she kept singing the song. Then she turned, grabbed my hands, and made me dance with her while she sang. "Dance with me," she said
I reluctantly swayed my hips from the left to the right. Then she stopped and returned to her cooking.
"This was my favourite song with my husband during Valentine's Day before we got married. I just remembered it now that Valentine's Day is almost here." She added some water to her mix. "Tell me, Zerah, What are you and your boyfriend planning for Valentine's Day?” she asked.
I pretended not to hear her. Focusing intently on the seasoning cubes I was unwrapping, hoping it would save me from the question.
I guess she noticed my hesitation as she chuckled. "Zee don't tell me you're single with all the fine fine boys in Lagos"
"Not really, Ma'am", I laughed. "I'm just taking a break from relationships for now".
She paused and placed her hands on her hips "Ah Zee, stop Jor"
I looked at her, “Okay maybe I've not been lucky with love. When it all starts it feels like you're a match made in heaven then one day you're wondering what went wrong”
For a moment, the kitchen fell silent except for the bubbling of the pot. I could feel her eyes on me; the exact way my mother would stare at me when she knew that I was being bothered by a problem.
"Sometimes I wonder how my parents, you and your husband do it. I mean, each day I see my parents or you with you with your husband, it's always a match made in heaven every time," I continued.
I looked at her again as she stirred her pot smiling and gazing out the window. "You're right. In the beginning, it's usually beautiful. Especially when they're trying to get you to be their lover" she laughed heartily. "But not all love stories are without their struggles. Not all are a match made in heaven. I'm sure your parents will tell you that too. Believe me, I've had my struggles with my husband," she added.
I handed over the seasoning cubes to her and listened. I've always known Mama Chinedu to talk about her husband as she speaks of her favourite meal. I never knew of the struggles.
“Struggles? You and Papa Chinedu?” I asked, genuinely curious.
She smiled, adding the seasoning cubes to the pot. “Oh, yes. Before he proposed, we were like cats and dogs, always fighting. But when it mattered, he stood by me. He fought for us. And now, I can say with pride that we’re a match made in heaven.”
Her words hovered around me like the aroma emanating from her almost-ready stew. I glanced at her wedding ring sitting perfectly and proudly on her finger. The longing came to have what she had, what my parents had, my match made in heaven, but sadly, love has always been like a stranger to me.
I washed my hands of the seasoning cube "You're lucky" I said to her
She smiled again at me, "You still don't get it, do you? Zee, love isn't luck; it's patience, it's sacrifice. Tell me, What happened to your last relationship?”
I didn't want to talk about it, but when my eyes caught her kind eyes it urged me to speak. “He didn't take me seriously. I don’t know, Ma'am but maybe love isn’t for me.”
She turned and pulled me into her warm embrace. She reeked of spices, but her hug felt safe, so I didn't care. “You're a young beautiful girl with a good heart. You'll find your match someday.”
I wanted to ask when while still in her embrace, but that would only prolong a discussion I didn't want to have. So I just rested in her comforting arms until she let go. "My stew is done. Grab some plates there for me. We need to eat" she said.
I turned and picked out a few plates from the rack and handed it over to her. "Here" I handed the plates to her.
"Thank you" she replied. "So let me guess you don't have a plan for Valentine's Day?"
"I do," I replied playfully.
Mama Chinedu looked at me with a smirk on her face. Her brows arched "Ooh, seems like someone's got a date. New guy?"
"Nah" I replied. "Just a regular guy you know"
"Really?" She asked dishing the stew.
I nodded. "Mmhmm"
"I don't know anybody. What's his name?" She asked, this time so interested to know.
"Work!" I replied keeping a mean face.
"Wait, what?...." It didn't hit her at first, but gradually it sank in. "You've got a date with your work. You've been pulling my legs, this girl" With that, she dropped her plates and chased after me around her kitchen.
"You asked Ma'am, and I answered," I replied,d, laughing happily and running.
Then she stopped and returned to what she was doing earlier. "All I was trying to say was, take yourself out maybe, just maybe, your match made in heaven might just bump into you when you least expect it.”
“Maybe I will,” I replied.
The last part....take yourself out.
I'm definitely taking myself out on a date..hehehe 😄
Let me go and enjoy my life even without a lover 😉
Valentine must be sweet for a single girl. Lol
I enjoyed your story.
Thank you.
I wasn't expecting your date to be work.
She is right though, no matter if it is a match made in heaven you have to work and risk for it to come through and become a match made on earth 😂
I love this story, @zerah. I want to be in that kitchen :) I will suggest one small proofreading error I'm certain you will be eager to correct. It doesn't belong in such a lovely story:
The extra 'e' and comma
Great writing.
Thank you. I have edited it.
Love is never easy, only a few understand that what we wish for is what we must work for together. It's always good to learn from those older than us
You are correct. Thank you.
She said what got my attention,"no matter the match there will always be struggles" but because the bond is strong they will keep on striving.
Maybe we singles should take Mama Chinedu's advice and take ourselves out. Maybe we might bump into our match made in heaven 😂
Let us try it na. haha
Interesting story. It's true, love can come when you least expect it.
Thank you. I am glad you found my work nice.
Well, what can we say? Love come and go but when it stays, it become like it has always been there right from the beginning. This was beautiful, the conversation, dialouge and everything that played out. Now I want a taste of that food too.
Bring your plate let us go and beg Mama Chinedu. 😅😅
hehehe, on it.