“When trouble dey sleep, yanga go wake am, wetin he de find?” – Fela Anikulapo Kuti.
Baba Mufu (stretching out on the couch after a heavy meal of abula) : ” Mama Mufu, have you been hearing about this DNA thing they were talking about in the workshop today? They say we can go to the hospital and even with just one tiny hair from the head, they will know if I am really the father of Mufu”.
Mama Mufu (looking at him with disgust and wondering if his nose had been this big when he came to ask for her hand in marriage? How come nobody had noticed it then?) : “I have heard about it. They said one bank manager gave cashier belle twice and she gave the children to her husband. How does that concern us?
BM (adjusting his belly so he could let out a belch and a fart at the same time):” Hmmmm! I have been looking at Musibau and I am not really sure I am happy with the shape of his nose. Before before, I used to say he resembled my father’s uncle on my mother’s side but nowadays, he is resembling Oga Mutiu’s other children more and more. I think maybe we should go and do this DNA. Just to be sure.
MM (Silently cursing her parents who had allowed themselves to be fooled by this idiot and the customer’s car he brought to take her mother to the market that fateful day): Baba Mufu, ó dá bí wípé ata tí sá pá yín lórí (it seems some of the pepper from your meal has made it to your brain). What are you saying? Must you always bring all the nonsense you and your fellow drunkards do in that mechanic workshop home? You want to do DNA for who? I have told you to stop rubbing engine oil on your head, you won’t hear word. Look at where it has led you now.
BM (Getting up and preparing to leave the house. He found it unnecessary to stay at home unduly since Mufu bought him the motorcycle almost a month ago. He had also just received his monthly allowance from him the day before so it was his turn to show up at Tinted Alhaja’s shop to buy drinks for his mates): “Well, I have said my own. Tomorrow we will go to General Hospital and go and do the test. Let Oga Mutiu come and take his child. I won’t be looking after another man’s pikin. I have spoken”.
MM (Taking off her head tie and tying it around her waist. In any part of Africa, that is a clear warning that hell was about to open its gates, but for some reason, probably due to the aftereffects of abula and oríṣiríṣi, Baba Mufu ignored the warning signs): “Ehn ehn! By the way, there is something I have been hiding from you for the past 24 years. I have been meaning to tell you but the opportunity did not present itself but now that you have brought it up, let me tell you. Mufu gan gan is not your son. His father is Baba Landlord. You remember when we first got married and you didn’t have money to pay the rent and he was going to send us out? You were begging him and he eventually allowed us to stay for 3 months without paying? You think it was your begging? Oloriburuku àrà ẹ (you unfortunate man)! You want to do DNA? You will do for all the children, not only Musibau. Every time “My son Mufu bought this for me. My son Mufu did that. My son Mufu is coming today”! Who told you he is your son? Today, we must do the DNA and Baba Landlord must come for his son Mufu!”
BM (Thoroughly shaken and suddenly not feeling the need to go and hang out with the boys anymore):” Ahn ahn! Éjirẹ! This your temper pàápàá! Somebody cannot even play with you again? You are my darling wife. I trust you well well. Even when my father said I should put magun on you when we got married, I refused. I was only playing nah. I know you too were playing when you said those things about Mufu, àbí? (he looked at her with eyes that were pleading to be reassured she had been joking).
MM (Allowing herself to be drawn into a collision with his protruding belly) “Of course I was playing. But you too, don’t be joking with me like that. It’s not nice nah! (she layed her head on his chest, and a hand on his tummy while trying to avoid the smell of gbẹgìrì on his breath)
As he led her into the inner room, Baba Mufu could not totally rid himself of the compulsion to keep comparing Mufu’s facial features with those of Baba Landlord.
Mama Mufu caressed his broad back and thought to herself: “Orí mi ò! That was close!”
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