Serving Justice

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When we were little, we did some pretty funny things, and when we look back at them now, we laugh at them.

We always went to my grandparents' house for Christmas, and there we would stay with a lot of our cousins. It was always fun with a full house—the laughter, the fights, and the drama. There was always life. One Christmas, we went over to my maternal grandparents' house, and as usual, the house was full of grandchildren.

I had this cousin, Nkem. She was the eldest grandchild. As a culture in my family, whenever we were doing something, the seniors always came first, especially when it was to their advantage. I still ask myself till now why it is in reverse when it comes to bathing early in the morning when everyone is sleepy and wants to go back to sleep. Why do juniors always bathe first just so the seniors can get more time to sleep?

Nkem, as the eldest grandchild, was the first to choose when sharing something, and she was always the one to share food among us. And because she had the opportunity to share the food, she would always cheat to get a bigger portion for herself. This habit of hers annoyed everyone, and we complained a few times, but they would just query her and do nothing in the name of respect as part of the tradition. She was still the one to share the food, and instead of trying to make everyone's food equal, she would make the food of the ones who reported her smaller.

I was always a lover of Abacha (African salad), and I was the best at making it in the entire family. One day, my grandma bought items to make Abacha, and as the only one who knew how to make it so well, she called me into the kitchen to help her. By the time we were done making the Abacha, it was so sweet that my grandma couldn't stop praising me and decided to turn the tables. She called all the grandchildren to come and eat, and unlike the usual times, she said I would be the one to share it because of the effort I put into making the Abacha.

The moment she said I was the one to share it, I looked at Nkem, and she wasn’t looking happy about it. I, on the other hand, was smiling uncontrollably and happy that the tables had turned and I was going to give her a taste of her own medicine.

I took the big bowl of Abacha with a scooping spoon and took a stool to sit down on the passage. I sat down with the bowl in front of me.

"Everyone should go and bring their plates so I can share it," I said.

Everyone rushed to the kitchen and then got their plates. "Okay, so stand in front of me with your plates," I ordered everyone. They all stood with their plates surrounding me, so no one was being blocked.

I started from the youngest because I had it all planned out in seconds and needed to dish Nkem’s own last.

It was her turn, and I took her plate and dished into it, making sure it was almost twice the amount of every other person's portion. I could see the way her expression changed on seeing the amount of Abacha packed on her plate—she was happy and probably surprised. I stretched out my hand for her to take the plate, but immediately, she held it, and I took it back. You needed to see how puzzled she was when I took it back.

"Wait," I said as I raised the plate to my eye level. Then I reduced it a little but made sure it was still a little bigger than the others.

"Okay, now take it," I said as I gave her the plate. I could see that she was not happy I reduced it, but she was at least satisfied that it was still bigger.

I then scooped my own aside in the bowl, making sure it was the biggest. I didn’t use a plate for mine, so it wouldn’t be noticeable. I started sharing the extra that was left, and when it got to her turn, I put the remaining portion, which was quite big, and then reduced it again. The amount I took back was almost the same as the amount I put in.

"Here," I said as I handed her the plate. She looked at her plate and then looked at the others. They were all equal except mine, which was bigger, and I could tell she didn’t like what she saw. My sister looked at me with a subtle smile because she knew what I was up to.

"Wait, bring your own first," I told her.

She gave me the plate, maybe thinking I was going to add to it, but instead, I reduced it a little more.

"Again!" she said, giving me a stern look. I didn’t answer her but just gave her the plate. She took it and didn’t even complain because she knew that was the same thing she did to others.

She was so angry and sad that the way she ate the Abacha, you would think it was bitter, and she was being forced. My sister whispered to me, "She's feeling it now," and I couldn't help but laugh a little.

When I was very sure that she had now felt how she made others feel, I went up to her with the bowl and added a spoonful, which was almost half my portion. She was surprised and confused at first before finally saying thank you.

After that day, whenever she shared anything, she made sure it was equally shared.