“You're always in this room. Going through your dad's books looking for novels to read, so I know you're the one that took my money. You better return it!”…
This was an incident between my mother and I that has always been memorable to me. It occurred when I was still in junior secondary school, as we refer to it in my country. I was in J.S.S 3 and had just returned from school that faithful afternoon. I dropped my school bag and drawing board in my room and took a cold shower to reduce the temperature of my brain.
I was just on my way to the kitchen when I heard noises coming from my parent's bedroom. I thought this was unusual because my Dad had travelled some months earlier and my mother was meant to be in her shop at that time. In my head, I thought my Dad had decided to surprise us by returning unannounced, so I abandoned all thoughts of food and dashed straight into their part of the house.
I walked down the corridor and jumped into the room only to discover it was my mother who was around. The room was scattered with clothes, bags, and purses. It appeared she was frantically searching for something, she didn't even notice me standing there.
“Good afternoon mummy” I greeted happily
“Good, thank God you're back, are you the only one back from school?” she asked angrily.
“Yes mum” I replied, shifting back warily
“No need to wait for the others. My money is missing, and I know you took it” she said to me angrily.
I stopped moving and stood there shocked with different thoughts going through my mind. Why would my mother accuse me of taking her money? Was it that she didn't trust me? Did she love me less? Had someone lied against me? Did she believe the training she gave me was for nothing?
“Chi” she called me as I was fondly called at home, “I'm talking to you, so answer me!”
“I did not take your money, ma” I replied quietly. Inside, I was hurting because I couldn't believe my mother would think I was capable of doing such.
“You're always in this room. Going through your dad's books looking for novels to read, and it's your job to clean it. I know you're the one that took my money. You better return it!” she shouted.
I was asked to leave the room, with threats not to speak to her again or enter the room if I didn't return the money. My hunger suddenly vanished, and I went to my room to lie down, I knew I didn't take the money and I also knew nobody in the house would have taken it. We were well provided for, and we didn't have a cause to steal. I lay there even when the others came back, refusing to eat or come out.
They eventually found out what was going in the house, and they were also surprised that I would be accused of such. Of course, my mother turned a deaf ear and continued to insist I had taken her money. She kept to her threats and stopped talking to me, she even stopped giving me pocket money, telling me to spend the one I had stolen.
It was a sorrowful time for me at home. I felt unhappy and rejected, firstly because I detested being accused falsely and because my father wasn't around to intercede on my behalf. Things carried on that way until three weeks later. I had come home from school late as usual, as had been the case since the whole missing money issue started.
I found my cousins laughing and whispering, I shed my school wear and asked them what was going on. Lo and behold, I was informed that the missing money had been found. I was shocked but excited and asked for more details, and they took turns in telling me the story.
“So you know how mummy's bed has a cupboard that is hidden by their mattress?” one cousin asked.
I nodded and he continued
“Well, she called us to help her lift the mattress because she wanted to take a document or something” another pitched in
“She opened it only to find one of her purses in there. When we opened the purse, guess what was in it!” they said excitedly.
“The money right?” I asked, and they squealed in delight, affirming that I was right.
Since the entire matter started, I hadn't shed a single tear, but there and then I burst into tears to the amazement of my cousins. They couldn't understand, but I was shedding tears of relief and happiness that I was finally free! I was in my bedroom when my mother returned that evening, and I went to greet her, and my cousins came to do the same and collect the goodies she brought back.
But since she hadn't given me anything for the past three weeks, I greeted her and turned to go back to what I was doing when I heard.
“Chi come, I bought you ice cream”
I turned, and it was my mother, I was angry and decided it would take more than ice cream to forget the trauma I had passed through for three weeks. I declined and thanked her. Not only that, but I continued to distance myself from her and refused all her gifts. Eventually, she called me and apologized, and I accepted but didn't forget. I also refused to enter the room, even when she'd given me her permission. I was a stubborn child and stood my ground.
This went on until my father returned and restored order to the house. I was tired of missing out on her treats anyway, so I honestly forgave her and everything became water under the bridge. The good thing is that this incident made my mother never accuse anyone falsely again and even when she wanted to I would always remind her by saying:
“Remember how you accused me of stealing your money?”
She would look at me, and we would always burst into laughter…