Destined to be Different (3)

The dining room air was thick with scents of beef stew, fufu and grilled vegetables. The family of five sat around the wooden dining-room table in silence, save for sounds of chewing. Zan’s oldest brother, Blessing, was sitting at the head of the table, concentrating on compressing his fufu and dipping it into his beef stew. Zan’s older twin brothers, Ray and Raoul, were sitting opposite her, mixing their vegetables into their stew in unison. Next to Zan, her mother was shamelessly chewing loudly and skilfully mopping up her stew with her compressed dough ball. Zan was the only one at the table who used a spoon. Since having fufu was barely a consistent occurrence in the Fatuma household, Zan was more accustomed to using utensils, much to the disappointment of her mother. “You don't even eat like a Congolese! You’re becoming a Westernised South African,-“ Zan’s mother would say, but eventually she got tired of repeating herself.

Zan looked around the table and noticed that everyone had almost finished their meals and forced another spoonful of stew down her throat. The phrase ‘I’m not hungry’ would be a cause of much tension in the house as Zan’s mother thought this meant her cooking wasn’t satisfying, or at least that Zan ungrateful. Zan tried to eat faster, so as not to cause a spat between her and her mother. She cut through her fufu with her spoon and trailed it through the gravy of the stew. Almost immediately, Blessing wiped his hands with the wet cloth in the middle of the table, leaned back and rubbed his belly. “Okay, Maman,-” he started, his deep voice echoing through the room. “I’m going over to visit a friend, I’ll be back later.”

“Okay, mon fils, just take some cake with you in case you get hungry and message me when you arrive.” Maman responded.

Blessing got up from the table and kissed his mother on the cheek before heading out the door. Zan was always shocked at how lenient Maman was with her brothers. They could do no wrong in her book. She rolled her eyes and rested her index finger on her temple. Next, the twins pushed their plates gently towards the centre of the table. “Maman,-” they said, simultaneously. “May we be excused?” They asked, eagerly.

“We’ve finished our homework for tomorrow-“ Raoul started.

“And we’d like to know if we can please go and play video games.” Ray interrupted.

Maman licked her teeth and wiped her hands. “Of course, my boys,-” she said, lovingly.

Zan’s eyes widened. She quickly scooped up the last bit of food on her plate and ate it speedily. “Maman, I’ve done my schoolwork too. May I be excused?” She said quickly, hoping to catch her mother in a good mood.

“You must wash the dishes first.”

“But…”

Maman’s eyes sharpened. She wasn’t one to raise her voice, but her tone and her facial expressions were enough to plant fear. Regardless, Zan continued.

“Maman… you let all the boys go. Can you at least ask them to help me?”

“No. You are a girl. Girls wash dishes. Why can’t you just obey your mother like your brothers do, eh? Your brothers get good marks, they listen to their mother, but you…”

“I know, I’m not perfect like them. I never learned French, I eat with a spoon and I’m just an imposter here, right?” She said sarcastically.

“We are all the same in this house and all I ask is that you obey my rules.” Maman said, sternly. “I will not stand for this foolishness on the Lord’s day.”

In that moment, Zan felt herself come unhinged. “Well doesn’t God’s teaching say you shouldn’t have favourites?” She blurted out, allowing her voice to crack. “Am I not good enough for you? Am I not good enough for this family?” she glared into her mother’s eyes, looking for any sign of emotion. After sitting in silence for an endless minute, she realised that her mother’s silence had answered her questions. She got up from the table, stacked her brother’s dishes and walked into the kitchen, allowing her tears to drip into the sink.