MY NEIGHBOUR’S DAUGHTER

I was only five years old when I first met my neighbour’s daughter.

It was attention at first sight.

Not the kind of attention that you were amazed by their beauty, but the attention that you were curious about their story.

My neighbour’s daughter was albino. Her parents were black. Her siblings were black too.

So where did she come from?

Her name was Oyinbo. According to what I heard people call her.

I was six years old the first time I talked to her. And the first thing I said to her was,

“Did your mother sleep with another man?”

Guess what came after?

A resounding slap.

Not from Oyinbo, but from her mother. I forgot to mention, her mother was standing next to her when I said that.

Funny part was that I was not the only one that thought about this. Words started spreading throughout our entire estate about whether Oyinbo was a child outside of wedlock.

And ever since then, I never saw Oyinbo again.

Until… 10 years later.

She returned to the estate with her belongings like she had just come from a long journey. Her family house was just opposite mine, so it wasn’t hard for me to pay close attention to her.

I later found out she had gone to a boarding primary and secondary school all these years and she just graduated from secondary school.

The day she arrived was her 18th birthday.

My beloved mother and enemy of peace sent me to deliver masa and chin chin to them. She still wasn’t aware of the resounding slap I received from Oyinbo’s mother 10 years ago.

I could still feel that slap on my face.

I rang the doorbell of Oyinbo’s house and the door opened. It was her.

Oyinbo.

She had a frown on her face. Her eyes were squinted together like she was trying to see me clearly, before she moved them back to normal.

That was when I noticed it. Her eyes… a mixture of grey and blue. She was crossed eyes too.

On seeing me, she rubbed her hand over her white kinky hair, as if she were shy to see me. The same me that half-insulted her mother years ago.

“Good afternoon.” I greeted first.

She didn’t say anything, just stood there avoiding my eyes. Was she deaf?

“Who’s there?” Another presence came to the door. The professional slapper herself.

“Oh,” Her mother looked at me in surprise, “that stupid small boy.”

I almost choked on my spit. She called me this the very few times she saw me pass their house from school. I thought I would have gotten used to her nickname by now, but hearing her say it in front of Oyinbo just made it more brutal.

“Good afternoon, ma.”

“You’re Haruna, abi?” She asked me.

I nodded.

“Your mother told me you were here to deliver something for Dooshima.”

At first, I wanted to ask who Dooshima was. But then I realized that was Oyinbo’s real name. Of course, her real name was never Oyinbo.

I gave mama Oyinbo the tray with the two food warmers in my hand. She collected it and slammed the door in my face.

Yes. She still hates me.

I left their house compound and walked back to mine.

I stood by my house door and looked back at Oyinbo’s house. I saw her white figure standing behind their window, watching me.

I smiled and waved at her but she sharply closed the window and ran away.

“Dooshima.” I recalled her name to myself.

Hmm, I think I liked Oyinbo better.