Yes, Auntie Araba was always a beauty. My mother says she really was a come-and-have-a-look type, when she was a girl. Her plaits hung at the back of her neck like the branches of a giant tree, while the skin of her arms shone like charcoal from good wood. And since her family is one of these families with always some members abroad, when Auntie Araba was just about getting ready for her puberty, they sent her to go and stay at A— with some lady relative. That’s where she learnt to mess around with flour so well. But after less than four years, they found she was in trouble.

‘Eh-eh?’

Eh-eh, my sister. And now bring your ear nearer.

. . . .

‘That lawyer-or-doctor-or-something-like-that who was the lady’s husband?’

Yes.

‘And what did they do about it?’

They did not want to spoil their marriage so they hushed up everything and sent her home quietly. Very quietly. That girl was our own Auntie Araba. And that child is Ato, the big scholar we hear of.

‘Ei, there are plenty of things in the world’s old box to pick up and talk about, my sister.’

You have said it. But be quiet and listen. I have not finished the story. If anything like that had happened to me, my life would have been ruined. Not that there is much to it now. But when Auntie Araba returned home to her mother, she was looking like a ram from the north. Big, beautiful and strong. And her mother did not behave as childishly as some would in a case like this. No, she did not tear herself apart as if the world had fallen down. . . .

‘Look at how Mother Kuma treated her daughter. Rained insults on her head daily, refused to give her food and then drove her out of their house. Ah, and look at what the father of Mansa did to her too. . . .’

But isn’t this what I am coming to? This is what I am coming to.

‘Ah-h-h . . .’

Anyway, Auntie Araba’s mother took her daughter in and treated her like an egg until the baby was born. And then did Auntie Araba tighten her girdle and get ready to work? Lord, there is no type of dough of flour they say she has not mixed and fried or baked. Epitsi? Tatare? Atwemo? Bofrot? Boodo? Boodoo-ngo? Sweetbad? Hei, she went there and dashed here. But they say that somehow, she was not getting much from these efforts. Some people even say that they landed her in debts.