Becquerel can eat the food meant for the whole house and still Oliver Twist it. That’s about five to six people’s food or more on the days concerned friends and family come visiting.
She never stops at just first round and it does not matter what the food is, how it tastes or even if it isn’t ripe. She tried unripe pawpaw once. Don’t ask me.
For Becquerel, eating superseded every other thing. Quick example;
Mum asked her, “Have you had your bath?”
Her reply, “No ma, I have not eaten.”
We concluded she probably needs the stamina from the food to stand in the bathroom. Yep, that is the sequence. Food first, others follow.
So, that other day at dinner, we all sort of ganged up against her, asking why she was bent on being the ruin of us all. I mean, we were not plucking money from trees and the food wasn’t manna from heaven. Mum eventually forced her to answer the question, “Why do you eat so much?”
Ladies and gentlemen, if you see the way her eyes appraised us all, as if we had suddenly become her students. Then like that WhatsApp emoji, she lifted both hands, palms facing up and said,
“I need more blood in my body.”
Egbami! Funke?!? You say?
This girl actually went all whispers, telling me her period comes out dark, a sure sign to her that the blood in her body was… diminishing?
We had not recovered from the laughter when Becquerel added another point,
“And I don’t want to have Panshokor.”
Okay. Pause. This time around, I was genuinely lost. Pan-kini? Seeing as she just made an indirect reference to her PCV (Packed Cell Volume), could Panshokor be a relative of Pancytopenia?
“Becquerel, what is Panshokor?”
“Ehn, that they will have thin arms and thin legs… ehen, like HIV.”
My eyes went wide and dilated.
Dear Father, Angels Michael and Gabriel, help me. Help!!! If this girl… If this girl is referring to kwashiorkor, maybe I will just faint. Nobody should even beg me.
And she was.