Chapter 5: Christmas Reunion and the Real Boss

The next time I see Grandma first pikin na after half year.

When Christmas holiday finally land, the happy pikin stand for yard, dey look.

He look me, confuse, ask Grandma, “Grandma, where my Mimi?”

Grandma and me look each other. She point me. “No be here she dey?”

The pikin look me. I look am.

I wan rub body for am, but as I take two step, e fall sit down, cry, “This no be Mimi!”

“My Mimi small, eye round, she…”

He point me, almost cry. “She fit swallow me! This na ancient giant cat, mammoth cat! No be my Mimi…”

He hide for my big shadow, dey look like person wey no get help.

Grandma bend ear. “Which red pepper?”

“I don give am new name. Na Pearl she dey answer now. Yes, she small—this kitten dey picky, no dey chop.”

I flex paw, even mango tree shake.

Yes, na true, I dey picky. I get food wahala.

Who go like chop if dem dey force you every day?

I take another step, the pikin crawl run like say him yansh get oil.

The pikin no love me again.

Sadness catch me, I no get appetite.

That night, Grandma cook big food, but her son waka without chop.

The pikin climb stool, wan take prawn, but Grandma use spoon knock him hand.

“Your Cat Uncle never sit!”

Grandma even put my plate for table.

Na she dey select my food—her own get pepper, mine plain.

Anything Grandma chop, I chop too.

Na my cat food be that.

The pikin open eye, dey look as me, prehistoric cat, jump table, listen to Grandma, then begin chop.

Grandma dey ask am question as she dey chop.

“School hard?”

“You dey sleep well?”

“You dey chop well for house?”

He no fit answer, just dey look me like say e see ghost.

Grandma even pick food wey fall, put for my plate again.

That night, the pikin no sleep.

E no know where e miss road, just dey thank God say e no carry hamster come make Grandma take care.

If not, for compound today, e no go be only prehistoric cat, na Yellow Wind Monster join.

Grandma off light, lie for mat—local bed—pat mattress, call me sleep.

My bed dey Grandma foot, small basket wey she weave from palm frond and rope, put thick wrapper wey she knit.

Because Grandma say kitten no fit enter cover, I no fit sleep for her bed.

Every night, Grandma dey tell bedtime story: “Once upon a time, one hill dey, on top the hill na church, inside the church three kittens. Everyday, dem go fetch water…”

I don hear this three kitten fetch water story reach one hundred eighty times.

But I never hear the end—Grandma dey sleep before she reach there.

Once Grandma sleep, I go stand up, patrol compound.

Night don deep, stars full sky.

I go chase stubborn bird, drive yeye dog, catch two rat wey pass, kill cockroach wey waka anyhow.

Some kittens see me, hail, “Boss!”

Na so, na so.

My name don spread for all village kittens.

With my size and skill to fight three dog once, I be real boss.

Little Calico shake tail, suddenly ask, “Boss, why Grandma dey call you Pearl?”

Pearl. E be like say you call Okon-the-Giant—wey dey carry two cutlass—one sweet, soft name. E no fit.

I look sky, talk, “If no be Grandma, I no go dey here today…”

The kittens shock, respect my wise talk.

I happy, turn dey go house—na so I jam the pikin, wey wake go toilet.

E face white, dey hold trouser, run dey beg: “Cat fit talk! Boss Cat, abeg, no chop me!”

The next morning, as we dey chop rice and stew, the pikin lean whisper to Grandma, "Grandma, abeg, make you no change cat name again before next year!" Grandma laugh, nearly spit tea.

Na so, something strange begin happen.

The small pikin suddenly begin understand everything wey I dey talk. The way e dey look me now, e eyes dey wide like e dey watch African Magic after lights out. For morning, e go sidon for backyard, dey whisper, "Pearl, abeg, no vex. I no go ever call you big head again." Sometimes, I go meow small, e go nod, say, "I hear you. I go beg Grandma make she add crayfish for your stew."

E shock me! Even Grandma sef dey wonder say, "This pikin na magician? Abi na my cat dey use juju?" For house, e no dey fear me again, e go even share biscuit. Sometimes we go chase each other for compound, till Grandma go come out, use broom pursue us, dey shout, "Una wan scatter my yard? Cat and pikin, no let me vex this early morning o!" That Christmas, peace and laughter full everywhere. Even Grandma no dey grumble again; she dey praise me for market, tell her friends, "My Pearl na the best cat for this whole LGA. If dem do cat championship, e go bring cup come back!" And so, my wahala and love story continue, for the heart of one small village, as real Naija cat, family, and friend. For this village, wahala no dey finish—but as long as Grandma dey, and I dey, we go dey alright.