Children and Karma

When my sister and I were much much much much younger, like in Primary school, I remember coming home and being by ourselves once in a while. Usually, mom made lunch in flasks and left for us but there was usually a maid there. But there were some days that she didn't and there isn't a maid and it fell to my senior sister to make lunch. Invariably, it turned out to be eba. I suspect that was the only thing she knew how to prepare then. We lived at Lewis Street then, at number 18, directly opposite the Sandgrouse Police station.

Being thin and sickly as a child (who can tell?) I hated eating and especially any 'okele' but my sister could not be bothered and so, I devised a means of getting out of eating my eba. I would make small balls which I would then throw against the ceiling in front of the kitchen and they stuck there.

Fastforward to presentday. I had grilled some 'alaran' (mackerel) and Lil Miss had asked for one of them last week. While eating, she had come to me to say she had a bone in her throat and I asked for her plate and seeing the spine of the fish in the plate I told her it must have been a little one and she should finish her food and be done with it. Well, bone did not shift and that's how I came awake around 2am to her coughing and crying and letting me know the bone was not small at all and was firmly lodged in her throat and she needed for it to come out. This is also how I ended up making 2 rounds of eba to try and force it down if it wasn't going to come up. After downing the eba with a triumphant look after each bolus that turned to disappointment 2seconds later, I had to try other means. This was mainly cos she chewed the eba instead of swallowing it. Biko, who chews eba?!

It reminded me also of an incident where her big sister had inserted a bead into her nostril as a toddler and how I had rushed madly to UCH emergency and how a doctor had assured me that the only solution was to open her up to reach the bead. I had asked only one question after he said he would need to put her under general anaesthesia and when I asked 'can you guarantee that if she goes under she will come back up?'. His response was a swift 'No, ahn ahn Madam but you're a doctor yourself now, a Surgeon, who can guarantee such?' and I had agonized till a kind elderly nurse pulled me aside and asked me to cover the other nostril and blow through her mouth and said bead flew out. I had run to the doctor with the bead and pelted him with it and realised they were all laughing at me because of my Mummy-theatrics.

So, with Lil Miss, I had borrowed some Jega-chill and was totally in control. I WAS NOT GOING TO FREAK OUT AT ANY TIME EVEN THOUGH EVERYTHING IN MY HEAD SAID TO. She assured me the bone was very near the base of her tongue and when eba did not work, I knew it was time to try something else. So, I tried my hand and before long, the eba did a return journey back to the toilet bowl. But still, no bone. Finally, we both agreed that the bone deserved some time where it was and decided we would try again after school. 

We committed it into God's hands asking for help to dislodge it and no untoward sequelae and got ready for school. The bone was eventually dislodged by Milo and bread and she grudgingly admitted that maybe some angels may have helped with the removal as well. I had then decided that she need to eat okele more often so she would not chew eba again. 

Fastforward again to today. I had asked what she wanted for lunch and as she was not forthcoming, offered eba. She had screamed & looked aghast at me all because she had eba yesterday and I reminded her of my resolve to make her become more familiar with 'okele'. When she did not say anything further, I left and returned a little while later when I knew hunger pangs would have started their retraining process. I knew this because she had come to me in the interim to ask for all manner of snacks to which I responded with a curt 'No' and so she came and grudgingly asked for the eba which I whipped up (hmmm! Cooker l'omo!) and served. 

I sat at the table and she chose to park in front of the TV. I had just finished my meal and taken my plate to the kitchen, I came out and lo and behold, my daughter was making small eba balls. My initial reaction was to look up at the ceiling for any hanging balls I might have missed and realised that she was looking at me funny. At that moment, I was transported back to 18, Lewis street and the incredulity that marked my mum's features on the day she discovered our hanging balls of eba on her kitchen ceiling.

You don't know karma? Mayhaps because you were a good child (like me) or you had a very tepid upbringing (again, like me). The number of times I have rolled my eyes and then burst out laughing cos my daughters are doing pretty much what I did growing up are too often. 

Is it losing earrings that you were assured cost more than Mumsy's brideprice and was worth a small fortune? Or losing things to 'omo kan bayi ni'...it didn't matter how I told the story of my mishaps and used it as a warning, karma always found a way to circumvent and use the children to ask,  'REMEMBER THIS?'