Purple Hibiscus

find it sooner. It was in the fourth block we came to, a tall, bland building with peeling blue paint and with television aerials sticking out from the verandahs. It had three flats on each side, and Aunty Ifeoma’s was on the ground floor on the left. In front was a circular burst of bright colors—a garden—fenced around with barbed wire. Roses and hibiscuses and lilies and ixora and croton grew side by side like a handpainted wreath. Aunty Ifeoma emerged from the flat in a pair of shorts, rubbing her hands over the front of her T-shirt. The skin at her knees was very dark.
    “Jaja! Kambili!” She barely waited for us to climb out of the car before hugging us, squeezing us close together so we both fit in the stretch of her arms.
    “Good afternoon, Mah,” Kevin greeted before he went around to open the boot.
    “Ah! Ah!” Aunty Ifeoma said. “Does Eugene think we are starving? Even a bag of rice?”
    Kevin smiled. “
Oga
said it is to greet you, Mah.”
    “Hei!” Aunty yelped, looking into the boot. “Gas cylinders? Oh,
nwunye m
should not have bothered herself so much.” Then Aunty Ifeoma did a little dance, moving her arms in rowing motions, throwing each leg in front of her and stamping down hard.
    Kevin stood by and rubbed his hands together in pleasure, as if he had orchestrated the big surprise. He hoisted a gas cylinder out of the boot, and Jaja helped him carry it into the flat.
    “Your cousins will be back soon, they went out to say happy birthday to Father Amadi, he’s our friend and he works at our chaplaincy. I have been cooking, I even killed a chicken for you two!” Aunty Ifeoma laughed and pulled me to her. She smelled of nutmeg.
    “Where do we place these, Mah?” Kevin asked.
    “Just leave the things on the verandah. Amaka and Obiora will put them away later.”
    Aunty Ifeoma still held on to me as we entered the living room. I noticed the ceiling first, how low it was. I felt I could reach out and touch it; it was so unlike home, where the high ceilings gave our rooms an airy stillness. The pungent fumes of kerosene smoke mixed with the aroma of curry and nutmeg from the kitchen.
    “Let me see if my jollof rice is burning!” Aunty Ifeoma dashed into the kitchen.
    I sat down on the brown sofa. The seams of the cushions were frayed and slipping apart. It was the only sofa in the living room; next to it were cane chairs, softened with brown cushions. The center table was cane, too, supporting an oriental vase with pictures of kimono-clad dancing women. Three long-stemmed roses, so piercingly red I wondered if they were plastic, were in the vase.
    “
Nne
, don’t behave like a guest. Come in, come in,” Aunty Ifeoma said, coming out from the kitchen.
    I followed her down a short hallway lined with crammed bookshelves. The gray wood looked as though it would collapse if just one more book were added. Each book looked clean; they were all either read often or dusted often.
    “This is my room. I sleep here with Chima,” Aunty Ifeoma said, opening the first door. Cartons and bags of rice were stacked against the wall near the door. A tray held giant tins of dried milk and Bournvita, near a study table with a reading lamp, bottles of medicine, books. At another corner, suitcases were piled on top of one another. Aunty Ifeoma led the way to another room, with two beds along one wall. They were pushed together to create space for more than two people. Two dressers, a mirror, and a study desk and chair managed to fit in also. I wondered where Jaja and I would be sleeping, and as if Aunty Ifeoma had read my thoughts, she said, “You and Amaka will sleep here,
nne
. Obiora sleeps in the living room, so Jaja will stay with him.”
    I heard Kevin and Jaja come into the flat.
    “We have finished bringing the things in, Mah. I’m leavingnow,” Kevin said. He spoke from the living room, but the flat was so small he did not have to raise his voice.
    “Tell Eugene I said thank you. Tell him we are well. Drive carefully.”
    “Yes, Mah.”
    I watched Kevin leave, and suddenly my chest felt tight. I wanted to run after him, to tell him to wait while I got my bag and got back in the car.
    “
Nne
, Jaja, come and join me in the kitchen until your cousins come back.” Aunty Ifeoma sounded so casual, as if it were completely normal to have us visit, as if we had visited so many times in the past. Jaja led the way into the kitchen and sat down on a low wooden stool. I stood by the door