Read Yefon: The Red Necklace for Free Online Page B

when we were five. I could never forgive her for that.
Mbav's
are the ugliest black rats found in the bushes, and she never apologized for it.
    Also, she always reported me to Ma if I broke something, knowing that my being a tomboy would make me open to any such accusation. My worst memory was the time when she caught me stealing a gizzard from my mother’s pot. After accepting a bribe from me, she still reported me to my mother. Ma tied my hands together and whipped the living daylights out of me until she was sure that I understood that gizzard was only for menfolk.
    When I tried to confront Sola after, she stared at me, her eyes the amber hue of fine cognac. “I don’t know what you are speaking about” was all she said, even though I am sure she remembered how we had torn the pieces of gizzard apart behind the barn.
    As if that wasn’t enough, Sola always had an eye on the plate with the meat that I was planning to take. In a polygamous setting as ours, one of the wives would cook each day for all the children. You always liked it when it was your mother’s turn to cook since she would call for you and give you an extra piece of meat when no one was looking.
    Unfortunately, Ma was an impartial wife and so we never got such favors. Her fat
nyash
* I would think angrily in my oversized head.
    We would return from the farm to see about thirteen silver plates laid down by the fireside in the middle of the compound. Sometimes, the round black pot would still be sizzling on the three-stone fireside, and we would sit down on the straw mat next to it and wait, tongues wagging like
ngong
dogs. Those were the good times!
    I had recently learnt how to focus my attention on another plate, so that Sola would pick the wrong plate, thinking she was getting at me.
Bvey
! Foolish cockroach!

    A long time ago, I used to walk around naked just like the rest of my family. Since I was very young, a black thread in my earlobe served as the only clothing on my skin.
    One morning, when I was almost six, I saw a little Christian girl by the Shisong clinic. She was wearing a beautiful cream white wrap dress and white shoes. It looked so beautiful on her that I suddenly felt an urge to dress like her. I came home and asked Pa to buy me clothes when he returned from his next trip to Yola. Even though he was a rigid traditionalist who only wore a loincloth around his waist, the only thing he asked me was if I was sure I wanted them and I said yes. One of the things about him that I loved was that he always let me have a say in what concerned me. I was Pa’s favorite, and he really understood me in a way that no one else could.
    “If my daughter wants a dress, let me buy her a dress,” he defended me to a very furious Ma, who warned him that encouraging my behavior was the beginning of problems in this family.
    “You are a titled man o!” she screamed holding her ears. “Do you want your peers to say you are weak?”
    “But
Yee’ won
† , how exactly would I look weak?” he said,his square jaw tightening as he spoke.
    “You are the one spoiling these children!” she accused, baring her teeth, so that her very wide gap tooth was prominent. “And now you are making me look like a demon! Continue!”
    He tolerated her shouting for a few minutes and then dismissed her from his sight.
    “Yefon, see what you have done,” Ma called out threateningly before leaving. I prayed to the gods that I should never turn out like my mother. Sometimes, I doubted that she gave birth to me. We were like guavas and sugarcanes—different in every aspect.
    My first dress was lovely. It smelled new and had a flowery collar and a belt at the waist. I had it for many years and wore it with pride wherever I went. By the age of seven, I had about ten dresses, and one comb, and since my siblings never caught the bug, I was the only clothed one in a compound of naked people.
    There were always awkward stares whenever I passed by, but I was used to it. Among