Another Conversation With My Mom

“Oya, come closer,” I said as I brought out my phone.

“Why?” my mother asked.

“Sellvie with my rose modeh na,” I said in my Jenifa accent.

“Duro! Duro! Let me comb my hair well. These curls must show.”

“Gawd! Woman, thou art vain. Who is looking at you sef?!” I said with a scowl.

“Ema gbami ke. So because I’m not on instagram…yet” — she stressed the word — “I shouldn’t look good for a camera moment with my son, abi?” She was patting the low curls on her head.

It was a Sunday morning and I was home for the weekend. I hadn’t seen her in months. My little cousin was already out of the car, walking down the church walkway with her friend. My mother and I were still in the car. I was on the passenger seat while she was seated behind the wheel.

“Shior.” I shook my head.

“You too, shior!”

After several clicks and flashes, I settled for three pictures. She looked really beautiful in them, and me, bleh!

“How come you look better than me? You’re supposed to be old and wrinkled,” I complained.

“I will look better, because for a young man, I don’t know what you’re still doing being single.”

Chineke mee! What had my “singlehoodedness” got to do with me looking bleh in this pictures?!

I turned to her.

She returned my look with hers. “Kinni? You think I won’t touch the subject again? You thought wrong, bobo.”

I made to get out of the car. I wasn’t going to have this conversation with her. Not now, not anytime soon.

As if she intuited my thoughts, she said, “If you like, do like you didn’t hear me. I will say my own.”

I went over to her side of the car and looked down at her. “Shey you know that there has to be a man in the picture for my single status to change.”

“I know. Which is why I’m worried that you’re still single.”

I sighed. We’d been over this and I was already tired. Every opportunity she got, she asked about my dating life.

“Don’t worry,” I said slowly, “man wee come. I sha cannot drag the next available man next to me. These things take time.”

“You’ll have to take one by force ni o.” She held up her wrist and shook it, a gesture of one being held captive that had me laughing.

This woman is hilarious!

“When last did you have sex sef?” she asked as she got out of the car and pressed the remote to lock the doors.

My jaw had never opened any wider. My eyes almost popped out from their sockets.

When she turned to look at me, she said, “What? Fly will soon enter now.” Her tone was serious.

“But…”

“But what?”

“But today is Sunday –”

“Ehen? So?”

“And we are on church grounds.”

“Pele o, assistant church keeper.”

“How can you say such a thing here, mom?”

“You mean sex? If God didn’t want humans having sex, he wouldn’t have created it.”

“Well, true. But gay sex? It’s just –”

She didn’t let me finish. “What happened to gay sex? Oh, you’re suddenly feeling sinful?”

“No! I’m just surprised you’re not, you know, feeling a bit –”

“Abeg, we’re all sinners. I stole 1k from your wallet yesterday.” She said this without remorse.

That explained the missing money from my wallet that I thought I’d misspent it. I stared at this woman. This woman who had forced me to read the bible at some point. Forced me to attend church meetings. Caned the life out of me when I was rebellious. This woman that isn’t repulsed that her son is gay as fuck.

I sighed. “Did you always know?”

“Always know what?”

“Did you always know or suspect that I might be gay?”

She paused for a moment. “I don’t think so. I mean, I thought about it once when I saw it on the news and you came to mind. But I dismissed it. Just because you were effeminate growing up didn’t mean you’re gay. Turns out I was wrong about you though.” She chuckled.

Wow. I didn’t know what to say. My mind was being taken on a journey.

“You didn’t answer my question though.”

“What question?”

“About the last time you had sex na.”

I felt heat rise to my face. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Ode! I wasn’t asking you to name names. Just when you had sex last.”

“I won’t dignify that question with an answer.”

“I’ll take that as a no. You’re such an old maid.”

“Oh, no you didn’t!”

“Oh, yes I did,” she said with a smirk.

“I can never win with you, ever!”

“I’m your mother.” The duh wasn’t said, but I totally got it.

Sigh.

“So how will I get the pictures?” she asked.

“Turn on your Bluetooth.”

“You don’t have Xender? Who still uses Blackberry sef? So you cannot buy a good android phone?”

“Buy for me na. Shebi you’ve stolen my money? I was waiting for Monday to come so I’d go put it in the bank for my phone, but, Alas.”

“Shurrup dia. Ounje omo ni mo n je.” (I’m eating the fruit of my labour.)

“Ounje that you stole? O ga o.”

“Will you send the pictures? Nonsense and condiments!”

I brought out my phone and went to the picture folder.

“No o, lemme select the ones I like.” She made to grab my phone.

“But I’m only sending three pictures to you.”

“I want your personal pictures too. So let me select the ones I want.” She didn’t even wait for me to answer, she snatched my phone and started going through my pictures as we walked slowly towards the church building.

“Who is this man you’re standing next to?” she inquired.

Uh oh!

“Uhm…he’s a friend.”

“A friend? Where was this taken?”

I told her.

“You travelled all the way down to see this man? This your friend?” She wiggled her brows at me.

I made to grab my phone but she was faster. She recoiled from me.

“Well…?” she prompted.

“Well, nothing,” I said with a straight face.

“Young man, better talk!”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Yet you travelled down to see him and you didn’t come to see me. Your mother o! You travelled down to see man. Man that is in the same town as your mother and you say there’s nothing to talk about. Better don’t try me.” She wagged her finger at me.

Oh, God!

“Service will soon start and –”

“Service isn’t until 9am. It is Sunday school that is still ongoing, and I want the gist NOW!”

She grabbed my wrist and shepherded me back to the car where I promptly began divulging the gist I had been secretly dying to tell her.