The first time Ifemelu saw Aunty Uju’s house
in Dolphin Estate, she did not want to leave. The
bathroom fascinated her, with its hot water tap,
... [Show More] its
gushing shower, its pink tiles. The bedroom curtains
were made of raw silk, and she told Aunty Uju, “Ahnahn, it’s a waste to use this material as a curtain! Let’s
sew a dress with it.” The living room had glass doors
that slid noiselessly open and noiselessly shut. Even the
kitchen was air-conditioned. She wanted to live there.
It would impress her friends; she imagined them sitting
in the small room just off the living room, which
Aunty Uju called the TV room, watching programs on
satellite. And so she asked her parents if she could stay
with Aunty Uju during the week. “It’s closer to school, I
won’t need to take two buses. I can go on Mondays and
come home on Fridays,” Ifemelu said. “I can also help
Aunty Uju in the house.”
“My understanding is that Uju has sufficient help,”
her father said.
“It is a good idea,” her mother said to her father.
“She can study well there, at least there will be light
every day. No need for her to study with kerosene
lamps.”
“She can visit Uju after school and on weekends.
But she is not going to live there,” her father said.
Her mother paused, taken aback by his firmness.
“Okay,” she said, with a helpless glance at Ifemelu.
For days, Ifemelu sulked. Her father often indulged
her, giving in to what she wanted, but this time he
ignored her pouts, her deliberate silences at the dinner
table. He pretended not to notice when Aunty Uju
brought them a new television. He settled back in his
well-worn sofa, reading his well-worn book, while
Aunty Uju’s driver put down the brown Sony carton.
Ifemelu’s mother began to sing a church song—“the
Lord has given me victory, I will lift him higher”—
which was often sung at collection time.
“The General bought more than I needed in the
house. There was nowhere to put this one,” Aunty Uju
said, a general statement made to nobody in particular,
a way of shrugging off thanks. Ifemelu’s mother
opened the carton, gently stripped away the Styrofoam
packaging.
“Our old one doesn’t even show anything anymore,”
she said, although they all knew that it still did.
“Look at how slim it is!” she added. “Look!”
Her father raised his eyes from the book. “Yes, it is,”
he said, and then lowered his gaze.
* * * *
Her father would not ask Aunty Uju for help,
but if Aunty Uju presented him with the money, he
would not refuse. It was better than being indebted
to Akunne. Ifemelu told Aunty Uju how the landlord
banged on their door, a loud, unnecessary banging for
the benefit of the neighbors, while hurling insults at
her father. “Are you not a real man? Pay me my money.
I will throw you out of this flat if I don’t get that rent by
next week!” [Show Less]