Why Not Banga And Starch?

After listening to Madam at that church, I now know why Madam does not joke with that her belle. Ever since the thing entered, Madam carries herself like a new egg. If you see where she is coming down the stair case, she would be walking like Super Ted, taking one step at a time. Honestly, I do not blame her. From the testimony which Madam gave, she really heard nwi. Apart from Oga's people, her neighbours at No 16, made sure that she would not drink and keep the cup.
“When it became too much,” she said, “I started asking God why it must be me. The one when dey make me cry na my friends, when follow us do sisi for Lagos before we marry. I know some of them wey do abortion reach twenty times. After all the abortions wen dem do, dey go bend nyash dey born. Me to get belle come be wahala, meanwhile, I no do any abortion at all o. I suffer so tay, people for my compound come dey talk say, I use my womb do juju for money. They say I no go ever born for my life. But today, I thank God say that belle wen they use yab me, don finally come. By the grace of God, I go born am. I go get am again, born am in Jesus name”.
“Amen”, we shouted and the pastor got up with one sweet chorus like that. That song is good, and if I have the opportunity, I will sing it in Efik. It will be sweet well well, and a lot of people from Akwa Ibom will buy it.
When we returned to No 16, Ochanya was waiting for me, to give her gist. The moment I entered the kitchen, where she was pounding yam, she told me that she knew that a lot of things would happen in the church.
“How you take know?” I asked her. She smiled and told me that anywhere Madam goes to, something that will make headlines will happen there. “I know Madam well well. Anywhere she waka enter, if nothing happen, then that person no be Madam”, she said lowly.
“E plenty wen happen there sha. But make I reserve the gist till when we go sleep,” I explained to her.
“No wahala, Eka Baby. I trust you say na authentic story you go give me”, Ochanya said and continued to pound the yam, while I faced the dirty plates in the sink. There were more than fifty plates there, and I could not but wonder when all those plates were used. Even people who work at Mr. Bigg's will not see that kind of heap of plates sef. But that is the life of a house-girl. You will wash plates, cook food, sweep the rooms, look after the kids, and at the end the madam will insult you and even tell people that you are a witch. When we finished doing the little work in the kitchen, Madam called us into the sitting room to ask us the kind of soup we felt was good for supper that evening.
“Madam, make we cook Afang soup”, I quickly suggested.
“No, Madam, na Okoho soup go good”, Ochanya said.
Madam looked at the two of us and started laughing. “Akwa Ibom girl wants Afang. Idoma girl wants Okoho. Why not Banga and starch?”