Chapter Five.
The Past.
Clarisse.

Aunt Tobi did not like me.

She was polite the first two days of my stay; showing me around the house; answering my many questions based on my keen observation of my new environ; asking what I wanted for dinner and all those things people do when you visit them the first time.However, she never once sent a smile to put me at ease and I could tell she noticed my discomfort.

She had a withering smile; a gentle tug at the corners of her lips that resembled a grimace. I was left to wonder if somehow I had managed to annoy her already. By day three, she had taken to completely ignoring me except when she sent me on ridiculous errands like calling me downstairs only for her to send me back upstairs to get what she needed.

Her husband differed from her in many way. He would always smile at me (a gesture I found rather unsettling). He made irrelevant comments about my mannerism and poise; he never passed up on an opportunity to converse with me.He was also in the habit of slapping me on the back to reassure me of I'm not sure what. He grew on me eventually.

The only member of the household who I wouldn't say liked me but was genuinely interested in me was their dog.

I'll let you in on something you may not know. A good number of Nigerians who own dogs do not allow their dogs into their home. They are usually tied/locked in their cages during the day some dog owners take their dogs on strolls in the morning when they go out to jog themselves or allow their children spend time with their dogs. However, at night the dogs are let loose as a form of security. What you find is people acquiring dogs not because they loved animals but instead as a 'class' statement or as a form of security. My aunt though was a dog lover. I mean Luna (my aunt's dog) looked like she was in need of protection herself). Thinking about it now, it might be that aunt Tobi had gotten Luna to ease the loneliness her childlessness caused her.

Luna, my aunt's black and brown Chihuahua would crawl up my leg in an attempt to stand straight; she could only reach up my shins and stare at me with those curious black eyes for about three minutes then saunter away. She would repeat the process, run away to hide somewhere—usually behind a chair at the dining table where she knew I could see her, poke her head out at me every now and then— and eventually climb onto my lap and snuggle up against me.

It was a sweet gesture although I did not always appreciate it.

It was dinner time one night. Precisely, three nights before school was to resume. I was helping my aunt in the kitchen; we were sorting out the dishes and arranging the table. I set out three plates carefully because she didn't like it when the plates or cutlery clattered. She turned to me and said, "I only cooked food for my husband and I. Go upstairs," she urged. "It's not like you ever eat the food I prepare. Must be some rich people syndrome."

Her husband got annoyed on my behalf and said he would not eat unless she served me food to which she eventually gave in. 

She was not entirely wrong to command me upstairs. I never at her food with enthusiasm; I would push my cutlery around the plate, make a huge mess of my meal, wait for everyone to be done eating. When they were upstairs I would coerce Luna to eat from my plate.

I took Luna in walks most days as per my aunt's instructions but I did not mind it in the slightest except it was quite the other way around; Luna walked me. She loved to chase butterflies and and scare off rodents and in spite of her small frame a jerk from her body sent mine following in the same direction.

I often took the long winding road to the park thinking about everything except my immediate family— new school, new home and things like that.

Whenever I reached the park; I would sit at the bench opposite the swings and slides and sometimes watch the other children play. Most times, I reread books I had brought with me from home. Luna would curl up in my lap and pretend to read with me, her eyes going over the words like she could understand them and then look at me curiously whenever flipped to the next page.

"Hey."

It was a new day at the park. I was going over Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, getting lost in an argument Elizabeth had with Darcy and his friend, Mr. Bingley about his proud humility when I heard a voice. Slowly, I let my eyes slide over the words on the book and looked up to see a brown skinned boy with a large afro that had been cut into the popular and trendy style amongst teenage boys known as "fade".

"She's cute," he told me, patting Luna's head. I heard a small woof that wasn't from Luna and I observed he had a dog sitting at his feet. It was also a Chihuahua.

"I didn't say you could touch her," I replied reverting my gaze to my book.
"How did you know she was a she by the way?" I asked not looking up from my book.

"I don't think you'd want me to get into the details of a dog's genitals," he laughed.

"You're right," I muttered, closing my book as I stood up. The sun had set a long time ago and it was beginning to get dark. The park also had fewer people. "I definitely do not want to hear such. Although these days, sex doesn't determine gender or so I've heard."

"I'm pretty sure that's for humans not dogs," he laughed. "I'm Kanye by the way," he stood up too, grabbing the leash on his dog with his right hand and holding out the left one.

I didn't take his hand, rather I fastened a leash onto Luna. "Kanye? Like Kanye West?"

"Sort of, but with an ‘i’ in front of the A," he smiled, putting his hand back in his pockets. "It's a cultural name."

"Don't most of us have cultural names?" I smiled.

"Maybe," he shrugged, walking toward the gate. His dog trudging behind quietly. For some reason, Luna had become quiet too. "I didn't catch your name."

"I didn't throw it?"

"That is straight out from a movie," he smiled.

"I'm Clarisse. My cultural name is Ìdòwú."

"Orúkọ amutorunwa?"

"You're not Yoruba are you?" I laughed.

"Nope. Learned that from school."

"Your pronunciation gave that away," I told him. "Do you know which of the orukọ amutorunwa it is?"

"Yeah. A person who's born after twins?"

"You're guessing." I sort of loved that he brought a smile to my face.

"No?"

"You are," I stated, nudging his elbow. "Although you're right. I had an older brother who's a twin."

"Had?"

"Yeah," I shrugged. "Of all Nigerian languages to learn in school, why Yoruba?"

"Well, I'm Igbo so it doesn't make sense studying the language so I chose Yoruba since Lagos is Yoruba land."

"That's not the real reason, is it? I bet you don't know how to speak your language."

"How do you know?" He giggled.

I smirked and said nothing.

"I understand Igbo, I just can't speak it well." After a while, he said, "The real reason I chose Yoruba is 'cause I've got a lot of Yoruba friends so it's easy to get an A. Don't ask me how."

The sun was barely visible now; rather it cast glows and shadows of itself about the sky, changing the colour of the floating clouds and disappearing behind them. The moon appeared in the east, slowly rising and lighting up the growing night and giving me an opportunity to take a good look at him.

His eyebrows were perfectly shaped. It was not full or shaggy, it was slim—like the careful brush of an artist's pencils and drawing tools with the perfect arch I had ever seen. He had hooded eyes which seemed very dark, average lips and a medium sized nose— not in any way pointed because that would have been gold. You don't really see many Nigerians with such a nose.

He was quite tall and very slim.

"Aren't we going to part ways?" I asked him when I realised we were very close to where I lived.

"We are neighbours," he said with a smile. "I've seen you a couple of times having arguments with someone who is never interested."

I raised my eyebrows at that.

"Luna." He put his free hand in his pocket.

"Yeah, she's very annoying," I muttered. "We are neighbours."

"Yeah," he said.

"So all that screaming that goes down at your house..." I trailed off, wanting an explanation. "Siblings?"

"Goodnight," he said, ignoring my question. Only then had I realised we had gotten home. Our eyes met for a second too long then we averted our gazes quickly, clearing our throats like they were itching.

"It seems like a romantic moment," he mumbled.

My breath hitched in my throat. I was at a sudden loss of words. "Huh?"

"Our dogs," he said to me, lifting the corner of his lip into a smile. "Luna and Raphael."

I looked down at the little Chihuahua's who were eyeing each other. Their big glossy eyes almost bulging out of their sockets but somehow I knew he wasn't just talking about dogs because the moment we locked eyes, everything changed and I knew both of us could feel it.

Whether it was a good or bad change, I had no idea.

∆*+*+*+*+*∆

The first day of school arrived faster than I expected. I didn't resume then, I was just there to get my uniforms, books and a brief orientation.

Ivory College was a fairly large building that rose up two stories. It was as big as the house I lived in, in Ikoyi but not big enough to be called a secondary school. I later learned that the school was perfect for the population of two hundred students it had. When we arrived at the school, we drove into a small but quite efficient parking lot and had to go through the primary school. We arrived at the accounting office where I was given a clearance card. There were two people in the office, a man and a woman- both friendly. She was doing a lot of work but also barking out a lot of orders.

She took us to a store which smelled dusty but strangely there was no dust in sight. It was piled with bales of textiles and shelves of uniforms. A dark-skinned short lady was seated there typing furiously on her phone but the moment she saw the woman from the accounts office, she stopped what she was doing, stood up immediately and gave a small bow.

When I finally had everything I needed from the school in order to resume I was taken to the principal's office.

She was busy with a parent so my aunt and I waited in her secretary's office. Her secretary was a very small woman in size, had a light complexion and wore make-up like she was a bride to be. She was nice in the way secretaries were obliged to and when she smiled she did so with all her teeth and I could see she had an open teeth.

As I sat there chatting with one of my classmates from my old school,  a girl walked in. She was as dark as night. Her eyes tilted upwards at the side and I could tell just by a glance that she had brown eyes. She had a natural face lift and lips that any boy would die to kiss. As a girl, I couldn't help but envy her features. She had a nose that would be easily mistaken for a button nose but it sloped downwards a bit. Even though her hair was not neat looking and there were beads of sweat on her face and a few pimples here and there, I could see past all that mess. She was the kind of person you didn't have to give a second glance to know they were beautiful but she also did not have a shouty kind of beauty. It was calm, contained and reserved.

Her school uniform was very neat though. The grey fitted skirt that ended about half an inch above her knee did not have a single crease, although it seemed like she was not really endowed because the skirt made her look a bit straight behind; It did not accentuate her buttocks like it did for some of the other girls I had seen. However, her shirt did put a spotlight on her large breasts. Unlike my sister, she could actually be a future Amandla Stenberg only the dark version. She was really slim and I could only wish. Everything about her was so close to being perfect- my fellow Nigerians should forgive me but her looks were too good to be Nigerian- I know that's racist?

She raised a sceptical eyebrow my way then proceeded to say a few words to the receptionist and my hunch about her not being Nigerian seemed to be correct as she spoke with an accented high pitched soprano voice. It was somewhere in between British and American and quite hard to understand because her voice was like a sharp whisper.

"Come," my aunt called out to her when she was done talking. "Is that how you talk?"

I could swear she was fighting an eye roll. "Yes," she replied curtly.

Just then, Kainye walked into the secretary's office, greeting my aunt like a proper Nigerian boy- bowing his head slightly and lifting up his left leg in a false prostrate. He turned to me and waved shyly like he was scared of my aunt. I was going to fight a smile but the moment Kainye put his arms around the girl's shoulder my smile rescinded into the shadows.

Chapter Glossary:

Oruko Amutorunwa (as copied from https://www.yorubaness.com.ng)

The circumstance of a child’s birth will automatically give the child a name. This name is known as ‘orúko àmútọ̀runwá’ (pre-destined or generic name) in Yorubaland.
The most common generic names (orúko àmútọ̀runwá) in Yoruba land are ‘Taiwo‘ and ‘Kehinde‘ (altogether known as Ìbejì) which are given to twins. The first born of the twins is called Táíwò, a shortened form of Tò-aiyé-wò (taste the world) while the last born of the twins is called Kéhìndé which literally means “the last to come”. Contrary to the popular belief that Taiwo, being the first born of the twins, is older than Kehinde, it is said by Yoruba elders that Kehinde is older than Taiwo because Taiwo was sent by Kehinde to have a taste of the world and announce his coming as well. The child, whether male or female, born after the twins is called Idowu. The Idowu is known to be stubborn and troublesome, and is therefore regarded as “Eshu lehin Ibeji” (the devil after twins). The Yoruba people believe, though not strongly, that if the mother of a twins should fail to give birth to another child after the twins i.e. Idowu, she is likely to run mad because the spirit of the stubborn Idowu will fly into her head and make her go insane. The child born after Idowu is called Idogbe (if male) and Alaba (if female). In some cases where triplets are born, they are named Taiwo, Kehinde and Èta ọkọ̀ respectively.

Apart from the twins series, other children born in Yoruba land in peculiar circumstances or ways are given pre-destined names too. They are as follows:
* Ilori– This is a child born during the absence of menstruation;
* Ojo and Aina– This is a child born with the umbilical cord twisted round his/her neck. If this kind of child is male, he is named Ojo, and if female, Aina;
* Dada– **Edited: Dada is a child born with natural dreadlocks.
* Oke– This is a child born with unrupted membranes all over his/her body;
* Olugbodi– This is a child born with supernumerary digits (six fingers);
* Ige– This is a child born with breech or footing presentation i.e. the child came out of the womb with the legs first;
* Omope– This is a child born later than the normal period of utero-gestation;
* Ajayi– This is a child born with face downwards. This child is also called Ogidi olu;
* Salako (male) or Talabi (female) – This is a child born with his/her body covered in rupted membranes;
* Abiona– This is a child born on a pathway usually when the mother is away from home or on a journey;
* Abiodun– This is a child born in festive periods;
* Jo‘hojo– This is a child whose mother died during labour;
* Babatunde– This is a male child born shortly after the death of his grandfather. It is believed the grandfather reincarnated. Babatunde literally mean ‘father has come again’;
* Yetunde– This is a female child born shortly after the death of her grandmother. Yetunde means ‘mother has come again;
* Babarimisa– This is a child whose father died or fled at his/her birth.
* Oni– This is a neurotic child who at his/her birth cries all day and night.

It is important to note that having a pre-destined name does not mean that a child cannot have other names. A child can be given as many names as possible, but in most Yoruba families, the pre-destined (oruko amutorunwa) stands as the first name of the child.

Reference-
* Samuel Johnson; The history of the Yorubas, Lagos, CSS Limited; 1921; pg. 80-81