Muna Was Here

Chapter 4 - Always Eating

I tap the sign above the door as I walk into the canteen. It's like a tradition. You can't enter into the canteen without tapping the 'CANTEEN' sign.

I pick up a tray as I walk towards the serving area. I'm a canteen student. Meaning I eat from school every day of the week except Friday. On Fridays, I usually just eat some snacks since it's a half day.

Joy is beside me, talking. I'm only half listening. She, unlike me, brings food from home. Her mom is really into healthy eating so she doesn't let her eat anything that contains animal products or processed sugar. So her lunches are usually green and creative. But no matter how creative you are, you cannot make broccoli taste good. I feel bad for her sometimes. Today, she has unripe plantain porridge and yoghurt. That's not so bad.

"..Like how can you just wake up one morning and decide to be such an idiot?"

"Haba now," I say, not even aware who I'm defending or what he or she did.

"Carbohydrates?" The serving lady, Mrs Peters asks once I reach the counter.

Canteen students pay extra school fees so that their lunch is free. To have a balanced diet, each student has to choose a carb food, something proteinous, a snack, a fruit and water. There are drinks. But you have to pay for that. So most people just drink water.

I choose boiled yam for my carbs, fish sauce with fish chunks for proteins, an apple and a cupcake. I leave the water but Joy picks it up for me, reminding me that I need it.

"If you choke now, nko? Me I cannot come and be performing heimlich maneuver for anybody when I have yoghurt to drink."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny."

I fork off a piece of yam and immerse it in the sauce, making sure to spear a piece of fish. As I chew, a burst of flavor floods my mouth. The spiciness of the sauce perfectly complements the blandness of the yam and the bitterness of the dry fish.
I grunt in satisfaction. Contrary to the cliche motion, the food in my school's canteen is marvellous. That's how come most students are canteen students.

Joy does most of the talking while we eat. I almost tell her not to talk while eating but I'm way too interested in what she's saying.

See, Joy's parents are really rich so she doesn't usually spend summer holidays in Nigeria. This time, she went to the Maldives. She's telling me about how a room service lady was stealing from them.

Am I jealous of how rich Joy is? No. Not even a bit. She's my girl and I'm happy that she's happy. My family isn't even poor. We have money. We are not butler-and-nanny-with-nine-cars-rich. We are more like roof-over-our-head-and-we-always-have-food-to-eat-and-can-afford-three-private-school-fees-we-live-in-a-duplex rich. We're comfortable.

Besides I don't really like going all out like that. That's stressful. I spend most holidays sleeping and playing basketball with my brothers. That's how I spent this one. It sounds pathetic, I know. But it's actually really relaxing.

I'm so engrossed in what she's saying that I almost don't hear the bell ring.

"So how did you now catch her?" I ask, throwing my trash away and returning the tray.

"It wasn't that hard, sha," she says, looping her arm through mine and leading me towards the door, "My mom has this..."

She is cut off at the entrance where we bump into Emmanuel. He is holding a pack of popcorn, eyeing the cupcake in my hand.

"Are you still eating that?"

"Heii!! Emmanuel! You've not even finished your own food, you want to eat someone else's own. Don't give him anything, Muna. He's a longer throat."