We stared at the torrents of rain as we waited in the uncompleted building. I held my elder sister’s(Jade’s) hand. She in turn touched Olawale’s, Our elder brother’s, hand, but he drew it away. At that moment, my concern was how our mother would tear them to pieces for taking me, a five-year old, on their escapades.
‘ Leave me..’ He snapped.
Jade giggled and wagged her tongue at him. ‘ Hungry! Hungry!’
‘ Mummy, will kill us’, Olawale said.
Jade stared into my eyes and I brightened up. She whooped. ‘ What if we go home in the rain?’
‘ Yea’, I shouted, waving my packet of cheeseball. I glanced at Olawale. He looked away and then winked at my packet of cheeseball.
However, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he glanced at Jade and at my packet of cheeseball.
‘ Ibukun, let us share this cheese ball. I will give you my gala’, she said.
Excitedly, I nodded and gave it to her. She handed it to Olawale, who tore the packet and shared the cheeseballs among us.
Energetically, Olawale shouted, ‘ Let’s go home’.
We entered the rain and headed home, which was a street away. We sang ‘rain, rain go away’ all the way to our house.
That evening, we met Mummy at home and she flogged them terribly. Few days later, they were sent to boarding schools. From there, we all became busy and serious with life.
So fifteen years later, as we sat round a table to celebrate Christmas with mummy, Jade’s son entered the parlour with a packet of cheeseball. I snatched it and shared it among the three of us. Jade chuckled as we began to munch the cheese balls. Tears came to my eyes as we sang ‘ rain rain go away’.