USA Africa Dialogue Series - Chikodili Emelumadu: Jermyn

Everyone said my mother would marry again. But when she did, it was with a lightning speed that surprised a lot of people.

"What kind of woman does not wait the full mourning year before marrying again?"

"She carries the stench of her dead husband."

"She is lucky a man wanted to take her on with two children."

"Can't blame him. The woman is as fine as Mami Wata."

Indeed. If anyone could be compared to the water goddess, it was my mother. She was stunning. And charming. And graceful. Everything I was not. You should have seen the way she used her hands. Even moving them in silent commands to the servants, they whispered through the air as if motion could bruise them. I admired my mother.

I liked my step-father well enough. He was crazy about my mother. Not crazy enough to give up the dog, though.

"I'll buy you new ones," he said to my mother when confronted with evidence of Jermyn's misdeeds.

"That's not the point!"

Jermyn stole meat from the pot while it was still cooking on the fire. He crept in through the back doors, nosed the lid off and snapped up as much as he could. It was his howls of pain that brought us running.