Eggun

She wears a straw hat to protect her from the sun; her skin is wrinkled like crushed brown paper; she has several teeth missing; she is a cigar smoker; she sits on my veranda shelling peas. Without a word, I sit beside her and start to shell. She barely acknowledges me - barely. She sniffs snuff; I can see the residue around her nose hole. Her clothes are too big for her; he sits hunched over; her hands are rough and ashy.She starts to talk.She tells me about my past - my mistakes - opens my fucking closet and ridicules me about my skeletons. Talks about the men I’ve loved, the pussy I gave to early or too late. The men I should not have been with but fell prey to their sweet lies and dark skin. My financial struggles - rent being late, lights turned off, gas turned off, fucked up credit, housing court, landlord issues, mould in the bathroom, mould in the kitchen, mice, roaches, fuck up neighbours, fuck up super, apartments with no heat, apartments with too much heat, sick friends, Andrea's suicide, Artis' death, Cheryl's death, Umolu's death, my first love - maybe my last love.She tells me about my present - and not to fuck up the relationship I am in now, he can make a lady out of me, swell my aging womb before it is too late. The job I just landed - learn to pick my battles and suck it up, stay quiet. Be grateful to the ones who have assisted me when family turned their backs against me. Respect my altar, pay attention to my visions, anoint myself, and take regular bush baths because the bitch will not rest until you are dead. Pay tribute to my ancestors.
My fingers are raw from shelling peas, not once did I look up to acknowledge what she says; embarrassed that she knows my shit. I realise she has not said anything about my future; that’s when I looked up - she says what can I tell you that you don’t already know.