About the book
Isioma is saucy and unafraid of anything or anybody, always up to one mischief or another around the village.
“If you are angry, excrete bees,” is her standard answer to anyone who gets angry with her. One day she said it to someone who actually excreted bees.
Chapter one
“Isiiiii... oma, Isiiiiiii…... oma oooo.”
Isioma hissed and hit the palm fruit nut on a stone slab hard with the round stone in her hand. The shell and the kernel inside shattered into pieces.
Her mother’s voice shouted her name again.
“Mtcheew! Mama should leave me alone, biko.” She put another palm nut on the stone slap and hit it. With less vigour. The shell cracked, another soft hit, the shell shattered. She picked out the kernel and added it to the growing number in her left palm.
“Isioma, is it not you mama is calling?” Chioma, her younger sister’s voice, asked from behind her.
Isioma turned and looked at her. “If I get you there, I will twist your mouth.”
“Come and twist my mouth now. Mama has been shouting your name since and you didn’t want to answer her.”
“I say get out of here.”
“You only know how to insult somebody.”
“If it is paining you, excrete bees.” Isioma eyed her and turned to continue cracking the palm fruit nuts. She would teach her a lesson later. For now, cracking enough palm kernels to use and drink garri was her primary concern.
“So, Isioma, you are in this backyard, and I have been shouting myself hoarse calling your name?”
Isioma dropped the stone in her hand and stood up. When she saw the fury in her mother’s eyes, her eyes darted around in search of an escape route
“Mama, I told her you were calling her, and she said she will twist my mouth if I disturb her,” Chioma reported.
“Mama, I’m hungry, I’m looking for something to eat,” Isioma said mutinously.
“The hunger blocked your ears that you didn’t hear me shouting your name. O kwn ya? Every time you are hungry and after all the food you consume in this house, you still look like a broomstick.”
Isioma stared at her mother with defiance. “Is it my fault I look like a broomstick?”
“No, it is my fault. When you expand all your energy, fighting around the village and climbing trees. How will you have flesh? Ajor nwa, bad child, I don’t know where you got your bad manners from. Go and fetch water. Let’s start making the evening meal before your father comes back from the market.”
“I have not finished cracking the palm nuts. I want to drink garri. I said I’m hungry.” Isioma twisted her face in anger.
“I said I’m hungry,” her mother mimicked. “Try my patience this afternoon and I will break your skull for real.” Her mother took a threatening step toward her, and Isioma took to her heels.
A Few minutes later she came out of the house. With a swollen face and a water-can held firmly in her armpit, she walked with brisk strides toward the pathway that led to the village stream.
