Halfway Across the World

Chapter Five- Quiet Roads

Outside, it's still chilly as we get into the car. It seats eight, and the two seats in the middle row have child seats, even though the boy, Christopher, looks pretty big. He whines as his father straps him in.

Chioma gestures for me to join her in the back seats. I do so reluctantly, and my host mother finishes strapping up her daughter and puts the car on. The huge screen on the console blinks to life, and the AC begins to push warm air out.

"Your luggage will arrive... any day this week," My host mother says as we pull out of her spot. She puts on the radio, and a woman with a cheery voice begins speaking about Subsidies. Chioma groans beside me. "Mom, could you put on something else?" "Hmm. Sure." I see her grin in the mirror. "Adeola, how do you like Ed Sheeran?"

"Mooom." Chioma sounds like all of the American teenagers I know from television. I suppress the urge to laugh. "What?" her mother says. "He has the voice of an angel." "He looks like a gremlin." "Hey. He's a lovely young man. Besides, I asked Adeola. Not you."

Beside her, her husband grunts, not looking up from his phone. Chioma notices it too, and her nose crinkles up.

"Um. I..." I have no idea who she's talking about. "The musician. With the orange hair." Orange hair? "I don't know Ma'am."

"No need to call me that..." Mrs. Watson says. "I like Ed Sheeran. How about I put him on for you?" "Mom. Please. I'll pay you." "Too late!" She presses a button on the console, and I hear the CD player roar to life. I figure Ed Sheeran must be to Mrs. Watson what Davido is to my mother. She has almost all of his CDs and I hear his songs in my nightmares.

We stop at a traffic light, and I try to keep myself from gaping like an idiot out the window at everyone, everything. The traffic lights are tall, and there are little stands next to them with either a hand or a walking man. A woman with electric blue hair waits beside another woman wearing an abaya and holding a little boy's hand. On the other side of the street, three white school-age children are bent over a man's dog, patting it on the head and cooing.

The light changes and we drive past all of them.

It is only a ten-minute drive to our destination, and I spend all of it fighting sleep and wonder.

Canada is big, clean, and quiet. Not even one person honks as we're driving. There are no markets by the sides of the roads. The roads themselves are all straight and paved. It's a bit unnerving. It feels a lot less.. alive than I am used to.

Still, when we pull into the Watson's' driveway, I'm nothing if not impressed. They don't have gates here; just houses with little patches of grass in front of them, as though they aren't afraid of robbers. The house is big, two stories. It reminds me of Femi's house, though this is a bit smaller.

Chioma and I wait for the younger ones to be unbuckled, and then we get out of the car. Mr Watson gets my carry-on from the trunk and hands it to me. His wife glances at him with an unreadable expression, but he heads for the door, keys jingling as he takes them from his pocket.

I have a feeling he does not like me much.

He unlocks the door and a familiar smell hits me like a wave. "Now, I might not be the most... traditional-", Mrs. Watson started, trying to tug off her daughter's shoes, "-but I got all the recipes I could find and made you some familiar meals. We have jollof rice, of course. Some fried rice as well." "It's not as good," Chioma snickers in my ear "Mom, can I take her for a tour first?" "Hmm? I suppose so. Hurry down though-" she grabs her youngest daughter, who is trying to make a run for it. " Lillian, sit down. Girls, hurry back so we can eat."

Chioma slips off her shoes, and I do too before following her from the door. The front hall is small, lined with a rack for jackets and three little hooks for keys. Then there is the dining room, with a large white table, a small room to the side, and the living room. I glance it through the wide arch as Chioma leads me up the wooden stairs. "There's four rooms. My room, my mother's room, and Christopher and Lillian's room. Though they sleep with their dad and my mom half the time." 

We reach the top of the stairs, where there's a door and then a small hallway. "The last room will be Christopher's when he's older. but for now, it's yours."Through the hall, there are a bunch of doors. Chioma opens the first. "Their room." There are two low beds, and toys are scattered all over the colourful carpeted floor. The next room is a large bathroom, that connects to Chioma's room and their room. "If you're using it, just remember to lock both doors. Christopher will come in and harass you otherwise."

Chioma's room is pretty big, with a huge window facing the back of the house. The desk in the corner is piled with papers and clothes, and her bed is messed up, the pink and black bed sheet half thrown on the floor. She quickly shuts the door and shows me a small room with a washing machine and drier, and then we get to my room.

It's small, but not tiny. The window is clean, and there's a desk in the corner. My bed is a tiny bit larger than a single bed, and is dressed with light mint sheets and with a deeper comforter. The pillows resting against the headboard say Welcome Adeola in bright blue thread. "My aunt did that," Chioma boasts.

"It's good," I say. It is good. I have a clean and comfortable room to sleep in. It just isn't my room.

"Let's go downstairs," Chioma tells me, still standing in the doorway. I put down my bag and follow her downstairs.

The dining table has been set up with fancy ceramic dishes full of food. three are full of rice, and one has stew, still steaming. There's also one filled with soup. "I couldn't make the eba, since I want it to be fresh," Mrs. Watson says. I smile. "Thank you, Ma- Thank you." There's a crash from the kitchen. "Joe?" "She's fine," Mr. Watson calls from the kitchen. He appears in the doorway with his daughter in one hand. He's balancing a plate with a plain bread sandwich on it with the other hand.

At the table, Mrs. Watson's smile drops. "What is that?" "Peanut butter," he says simply, setting Lillian down. Chioma steps beside me to take her place at the table, scoffing. "You're not eating with us?" "The stuff doesn't agree with my stomach. Makes me feel queasy." he smiles. "I'll help with clean up, though. Don't worry about it."

Without waiting for her answer, he heads for the stairs. "Mom, let's eat without him," Chioma says. "Don't say that. It's fine. I wish he'd try new foods though." She laughs suddenly, turning to me. "My husband could eat the same thing every day and be perfectly content. It's fine." I nod, and sit down. She hands me a ceramic plate with fancy blue designs on it' a house with a triangular roof, eaves turning up at the ends. Mama has plates like these, but they are reserved for important guests. Am I an important guest?

I serve myself; jollof rice and crispy chicken. Chioma sits across from me, phone in her hand as she digs in. I hear the sound of screaming and grunting from the living room. "Christopher, can you come eat with us please?" The sounds pause, and Christopher pokes his unruly head of hair out of the parlour. "Can I eat later, Mom?" "Why?" "I want to finish this round." "Didn't we say- fine. One round, and then come sit with us."

I gingerly take a bite of the rice. It's good. But it isn't jollof rice. There's no spice, little more than a tickle on my tongue. The rice is too soft. I eat it anyway, because I'm starving and I don't want to be rude.

"Do you want any more?" Mrs. Watson asks as I finish my first plate of food. "No Ma'am." "You don't have to call me that." She says, shaking her head. "I'm sorry." "Don't apologize either." "I..." "It's fine. You must be exhausted. Christopher!" "I'm coming!" "Get your butt here right now." She turns back to me. "You can finish up and get some sleep, yeah?"

I accept her offer. I finish the chicken (dry, flavourless), and head upstairs. Chioma offers to come with me, but her mother tells her to get started on dishes. Normally I would offer to help, but by the time I get upstairs, I'm so exhausted I practically fall into bed.

Before I make the commitment to sleep, I turn on my phone. I don't have any data, but the password to the wifi- They have home wifi- is on a sheet of paper on my desk. I get connected and then send my mother a message.

Hi mama. I'm in Ottawa now. I'm in my Host Family's house.

Her response comes a few seconds later. Congratulations Ade. I will call you later. Have fun!

I put my phone off, tuck it underneath my pillow, and fall asleep.