Half of a Yellow Sun - Page 40

Master was in the living room when Ugwu came in and greeted him.

“How are your people?” Master asked.

“They are well, sah. They send greetings.”

“Very good.”

“My sister Anulika will be getting married soon.”

“I see.” Master was focused on tuning the radio.

Ugwu could hear Olanna and Baby singing in the bathroom.

London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down,

London Bridge is falling down, my fair lady.

Baby’s London, in her tiny unformed voice, sounded like bonbon. The bathroom door was open.

“Good evening, mah,” Ugwu said.

“Oh, Ugwu, I didn’t hear you come in!” Olanna said. She was bent over the tub, giving Baby a bath. “Welcome, nno. Are your people well?”

“Yes, mah. They send greetings. My mother said she cannot thank you enough for the wrappers.”

“How is her leg?”

“It no longer aches. She gave me ukwa for you.”

“Eh! She must have known what I am craving now.” She turned to look at him, her hands covered in bath foam. “You look well. See your fat cheeks!”

“Yes, mah,” Ugwu said, although it was a lie. He always lost weight when he visited home.

“Ugwu!” Baby called. “Ugwu, come and see!” She was pressing a squawking plastic duck in her hand.

“Baby, you can greet Ugwu after your bath,” Olanna said.

“Anulika will be getting married soon, mah. My father said I should let you and Master know. They do not have a date yet, but they will be very happy if you come.”

“Anulika? Is she not a little young? About sixteen-seventeen?”

“Her mates have started to marry.”

Olanna turned back to the tub. “Of course we will come.”

“Ugwu!” Baby said ag

ain.

“Shall I warm Baby’s porridge, mah?”

“Yes. And please make her milk.”

“Yes, mah.” He would linger for a moment and then ask her if all had gone well in the week he was away, and she would tell him which friends had come, who had brought what, if they had finished the stew he had put in containers in the freezer.

“Your master and I have decided that Arize should come here to have her baby in September,” Olanna said.

“That is good, mah,” Ugwu said. “I hope the baby will resemble Aunty Arize and not Uncle Nnakwanze.”

Tags: Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie Fiction
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