Black or White ✔

[16]

Song of the chapter: Elastic Heart by Sia.
...

You know that moment when you decided to give someone a piece of your mind, and then when you're finally looking at the person, every single thing in your mind suddenly vanishes and the adrenaline and confidence rushin g through you suddenly disappears?

That's how Ava felt the moment she stepped into Toki's father's office.

Silence lingered in the air for sometime, and Ava hoped that he would invite her so sit down.

"Well, have a seat." He said and she let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you sir. I'm here to talk to you." She said sitting down on the leather chair.

"I know. I'm waiting for you to actually get to the talking part." He replied and Ava blushed.

"Yes sir. Well, as you know, Toki and I have started preparations for our wedding-"

Ava heard him mutter something under his breath.

"Excuse me sir?"

"It's nothing. Go on." He said and she nodded reluctantly.

"We have started preparations for our wedding, and a wedding isn't complete without happy and supportive parents. Mrs. Osoba has been, nice and hospitable, towards me; but you show an obvious cold attitude towards me for some reason I don't know. I don't think we've met or my family has met you, and I don't know what I have done to you. So I'm here to clear the air between us. What did I do, and what can I do to correct it?" She finished her improvised speech, mentally patting herself on the back for not stuttering.

He stared at her, and she thought she saw the edge of his lips twitch.

"Everything I've ever done in my life, was in support of Toki." He started. "When I married his mother, it was because I didn't want the son of the woman I love to be a bastard. When I donated money to the schools he attended, it was because I wanted him to have the best. When I sent him abroad, it was because I wanted him to get exposed, and get the best education."

He paused, letting his words sink in her mind, and she wondered where he was going.

"'Why do I push you away?' You ask. It's because I want the best for my son. A complete Nigerian woman, preferably Yoruba. A Nigerian woman is one who kneels down to greet her in-laws, and she speaks her language fluently. She knows how to wear her traditional attire, and she ties the gele with ease. She knows how to please her husband with his favourite local dishes, as they say, 'the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.' She would even go as far as to pound yam for her husband, if he likes to eat pounded yam." He smiled to himself, a feeling of nostalgia rushing through him, and Ava knew that Mrs. Osoba had pounded yam for him- whatever pounded yam is.

"She has children for her husband, three or four, enduring the pains of childbirth. She breast feeds her children, for at least two years, and 'backs' them to sleep for three years. She brings them up in the way of the Lord and teaches them the culture, especially the language and etiquette. That is the woman I want for my son."

"But sir-"

"Now, let me finish. White people don't particularly have respect for their elders. The children talk back to their parents, and call people who are older than them, by their name; something no well brought up Nigerian child would do. White people obviously can't speak our language or wear the traditional attire. You obviously can't pound yam with those your mosquito like arms," Ava gasped at his insult but he ignored her and continued, "and I don't want my son coming to visit me and looking skinny because his wife is feeding him French toast and rice.