Bimpe was 13 when her mother took her bra shopping for the 8th time, she was 12 for the first. She remembers because her mother had so happily been counting, but this time she wasn't so keen;"what are children eating these days growing so fast that you are terrified?". Little did she know the dread that her words brought Bimpe.
Theirs was a grand house filled with maids, guards and gardeners. Each weekend there brought a host of guests and family with talks of Real Italian leather and Swiss lace that a certain madam bought by way of Dubai. Bimpe was amidst it all, always locked on the arms of her father. She was his pride and he never failed to tell his friends how intelligent she was. How she was going to be Nigeria's female president and not before she wins a Nobel prize in literature like Soyinka. "She's going to be a star this one". He said it so often that she had his words etched on her heart. She dreamt the same dreams and often she would watch him speak and see the words as a string of gold beads with alternating glittering stars carried on the wings of golden birds. She would watch them as they do their golden dance, sway and finally they would weave them into her hair as she smiled a satisfied smile. I am a star, she would mutter, forgetting herself. She often forgets herself.
It was no surprise that Bimpe was loved by all that met her. Her father wouldn't have had it any other way. So when she was called by Uncle This and Auntie That she would oblige. They often came to her house bearing gifts. Her favorite was the Ice creams. Pistachio ice cream. Nothing beats Pistachio ice cream. A horse ride at Oniru beach was cool, but ah the green of Pistachio ice cream was much more cooler-literally.
One harsh harmattan, Bimpe arrived from school with chapped lips and an itchy scalp. The hot northeasterly winds were not joking, they took captive of every 'unvaselined' skin. She walked in and sat on the couch was a well familiar face that made her smile ear to ear ripping her lips further but she didn't mind. Uncle Ṣo!!! she screamed jumping into his lap. Bimpes mother stared her down as she normally did to correct supposedly bad behavior; understanding, Bimple stood and knelt greeting as she was expected to "good afternoon sir". "I have told you may times that Chief Ṣobanke is not a bouncy castle and if you saw him at work with all his PAs and MDs running after him you would behave properly". Her mother rose and went to the kitchen, she always entertained Chief Ṣobanke herself she thought none of the house maids were worthy.
Before her mother was even out of sight Bimpe was back in Uncle Ṣo's laps, he told her not to worry he had brought enough Cool Green to last them the entire evening. "Your father and I have lots of business issues to iron out flat." He rubbed his fingers on her lips saying a hush tone of harmattan curses and then his hands suddenly cupped her breasts fully. She flinched, he didn't. He held on firmer this time and squeezed. She remained still unsure if she could move, if she was allowed to move, so she stayed, she stayed still as tears ran down her face.
His grips hurt. They still do.
