"You stupid ingrate. I can't work all day to put  wraps of Fufu on your table and all you do is to finish it in two minutes. Can't you eat slowly and respect the fact that it wasn't easy making that food." 

The black woman yelled with beads of sweat on her fore head. 

An 8 years old boy was on the table with his hands soaked in stew.

"Mum You don't expect me to lie. The food is small." The boy replied as he dodged his mother's spoon from hitting his head. 

"Mum I am hungry." A voice came from the left wing of the small room. It was the first son with a thick dread and a spoon.

"You don't disrespect me." The woman yelled.

"Who am I supposed to disrespect then. An outside?" 

The woman stomped towards her pot of stew and she stopped the boy from opening it up.

"Go get stew from your father!"

"I never caused the break up..." 

A mental spoon landed on the boys head and he held it tight in his hands. 

"I am not hungry again. I am just going to sip water." The boy said angrily and he walked across the room towards the round table south wing meant to be the dinning table. He lifted a dusty jug and he studied it. 

"You don't wash. You don't cook. And you get back here. Expecting me to feed your black ass. You are just like your father." The mother kept ranting. 

"That's not why the jugs aint clean. Besides I said nothing."

"Get your hands off my stew. Black ass." The little boy interrupted as he guarded his bowl of stew. 

The elder brother turned the water from the jug into a stainless cup and he spilled it down his throat. He sat the cup aggressively on the table and he wiped his lips clean with the back of his hands. 

"Let me have stew please." He whispered to his junior brother and he stretched. 

It had been terrible for them. Nigerians in southafrica. Their jobs had been taken and their father had been away. A run for his life. He once owned an ice block factory down country when he got kicked by angry citizen who said. He had taken all the customer. He had to lay low and in an attempt to get a better life. He ran away never to return. Leaving his fat wife alone to feed for two troublesome Kids. 

"Get your plate here and have your soup." 

" I wasn't going to use my lips to carry my stew before." He mumbled at his mother's word. 

He watched his junior brother smile gently and he he stretched, hitting him on the head. 

"Do you want the soup to enter his head." His mother yelled and she stepped forward. She grabbed him before he could run and she sent hot slaps at his cheeks. 

He held his cheek wild and he returned to his sit calm. He didn't say a word and he watched his mother keep up the rant. 

"I have a degree. I went to school. Yet I can't even afford a ticket back home. I can't give you boys more than stew and fufu." 

She kept ranting and non of the boys replied. 

She went mute after a while. And she began to blow the charcoal in the coal pot. Their small room served as a kitchen, bedroom, living room and dinning room.

"You want me to say something." The first son said again from the side of his mouth. He gave his mother a long stare and he asked. 

"Mum can you please serve me my food." 

She sighed and she held open the pot      then she said aloud. 

"Even the say you said the please is disrespectful." 

I had been at the window watching all the drama. I was a Nigerian like them who had also been kicked out of work and I had stayed with them for over 9 months now. 

I was just asked to summon them by the house owner, and I had not been able to move pass their window. It was fun watching them rant and fight and stay together. 

I left the window feeling I was running out of time and now that I had confirmed they were in. I had to move on. 

I knocked and the door was opened for me.

I walked I and I tried surveying the room as I delivered my message. I was tempted to ask so I did.

"What you guys did now. Can you..." I paused for a while seeing the all had an eyes on me and I knew talking more will make me have to explain what I was doing at the window.

He got out and he slipped my phone out of my pocket as he moved close to the black GP tank close the wall, running around the compound. 

"Hello G." I spoke to my phone and he listened. 

"Yeah!" I spoke up again. "I just got the perfect family for your show. This ones are extremely funny." I chucked and I rubbed my fore head with tip of my index fingers. 

"And please. My share. Don't fuck up. You need to know how hard it was finding them... Off course, you will have to test them. OK." I ended the call and I moved closer to the tank. 

I reached out for the tap and I turned it on. The cold water rushed out, hitting me on my palm and that sent me a long way, thinking on how I was going to sit down and convince the family to be a part of the show. It was going to be a break through if Sandra agrees to bring them on. 


┬ęGodwin Okhuoya