Free Under the Udala Trees by Chinelo Okparanta Page A

sitting at the table, stirring a cup of tea with a spoon. She must have just eaten a tangerine, because the crisp citrus scent of freshly peeled tangerines filled the air.
    The kitchen was a wide, well-lit room with two large louver windows. The panes of the windows were open, and sunlight was filtering through.
    Mama looked up at me, responded to my greeting very solemnly. “Good morning, Ijeoma,” she said, and returned to stirring her tea.
    I remained at the doorway. I said, “I’m sorry for interrupting you. I’ll come back when you’re done.”
    She shook her head. Still looking down at her tea, she said, “You may stay. I was just thinking that today might be a good day to speak with you about things.” She pointed at the empty chair at the table. “Come, take a seat,” she said.
    I moved toward the chair, pulled it out, sat.
    Mama spoke again. “Now that you have had the week to settle in, we must make a schedule for you. There’s nothing more important now than for us to begin working on cleansing your soul.”

13
    T HOSE INITIAL SESSIONS , the lessons took place right there at the kitchen table, with the two of us seated across from each other. They took place in the evenings, after Mama had closed up the shop, but before supper.
    That first session, Mama opened the pages of her Bible. Page one, chapter one, verse one. She began:
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1
Na mbu Chineke kere elu-igwe na uwa.
2
Uwa we buru ihe toboro n’efu na ihe toboro nkiti; ochichiri di kwa n’elu obu-miri: Mo Chineke nerughari kwa n’elu miri.
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1
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.
2
The earth was formless and void, and darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was moving over the surface of the waters.
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    Her voice was gentle and calm. There was a steady cadence to it as she went down the page and then back up to chapter two. I followed along with my own Bible, Papa’s old one, as we made our way through.
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20
. . . but for Adam there was not found a helper suitable for him.
21
So the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon the man, and he slept; then He took one of his ribs and closed up the flesh at that place.
22
The Lord God fashioned into a woman the rib which He had taken from the man, and brought her to the man.
23
The man said,
“This is now bone of my bones,
And flesh of my flesh;
She shall be called Woman,
Because she was taken out of Man.”
24
For this reason a man shall leave his father and his mother, and be joined to his wife; and they shall become one flesh.
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    She repeated that last part:
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24
N’ihi nka ka nwoke garapu nna-ya na nne-ya, rapara n’aru nwunye-ya: ha ewe gho otu anu-aru.
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    She said, “
Nwoke na nwunye.
Man and wife. Adam
na
Eve.
I ne ghe nti?
Are you listening?” She was shaking her finger, a reminder and a warning.
    I nodded.
    She said it again: “
Nwoke na nwunye.
Adam
na
Eve. Man and wife.”
    I nodded but remained quiet, keeping my eyes steady on her. The look on her face was the look of a person watching a gradually sinking boat from afar. She seemed about ready to scream at the captain of the boat, but she seemed also to understand that if she screamed, the captain could not possibly hear. Not from so far away. So she talked softly instead, as if in prayer, as if prayer might have the effect that shouting could not.
    I listened to her, watched her brow furrow, her lips tighten and loosen, tighten and loosen again.
    Before the session began, Mama had handed me a black prayer scarf and instructed me to tie it on my head. “The mark of true penitence,” she had said. I tugged at the scarf now.
    â€œ
I ne
ghe nti?
” she asked. “Are you listening?”
    I nodded.
    â€œ
I na aghota?
Are you understanding?”
    I nodded again.
    She smiled at me, tugged at my headscarf, perhaps to pull it forward to cover more of my hair. She patted me