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Mama's Story "Ramota"

In: English and Literature

Submitted By Unspeakable
Words 3429
Pages 14
Mama’s Story

J.E.N.P’s & Co. Printing Press

Twenty five years ago, my mother gave me a word and told me a story that changed my life.

“Maureen, I know that you are only but a child, but what I have to say to you this today will give a new live to your life, if only you follow it to the latter. Moreover, I will tell you a story admits what I have to say to you.” My mother said to me.

“Mum, I hope all is well?” as tender as I was I asked my mother but she gave no answer other than that I should pay attention to what she has to say; so I shrugged.

“In this life,” she said “whatever anyone is destined for must surely come to be, regardless of the person’s background, environ, or status. If it so pleases the person, he can run to the stars above or the seas below, what will be, will be.”

Being the child that I was, I didn’t understand, neither did I read too much meaning to the words she said.

“My child, you can now retire to your room. I will call on you when am ready.”

And so I headed for my room, but on touching my bed, I continued with the game I was playing before mother called on me. I played some little more before I fell asleep.

Later that evening, amidst my dream I heard the sound of my name. It sounded so loud as if the person was standing next to me that I sprang out of bed. Behold it was my mother; she was standing at the entrance of my room. She turned and walked away. I followed her lead and we ended our walk sitting by the dinning where she had prepared a tray of biscuit, a full plate of groundnut and a big jug of lemonade juice that will aid us through the journey of the story-telling. I stared so much at the groundnut and lemonade juice, for I am a lover of groundnut and anything drinkable, except for alcohol; that it prompted mother to say

“They are yours already; you need not dive into it but am sure that by the time I start and I’m through, you will so forget about the groundnut and the lemonade juice on the table.

The Story:
There once lived a rich fellow, whose wife died at the birth of their first child in the village of Okitikpupa, leaving him with the child. After some years, he so longed and hoped to give his child another mother that will love and care for her; so he got married to a widow.

He thought since she had kids of her own, she would be able to take good care of his little girl but it turned out his thoughts were wrong. She was naught and proud and so were her two daughters.

The poor little girl a very unhappy time with her new relations, for her father died due to the naught behavior of her step-mother and sisters. Her step-mother became so jealous of her, because as she grew, she became more beautiful, while they themselves remained plain.

They did all they could to make her miserable, to the extent that her step-mother sent her out of her room to live in the store-room and the kitchen was her living room, where she had to do all the rough and dirty work; because she was dressed in rags and sat on the mortar that they nick-named her Ramota. At length, through their wicked spite and envy, her life became a living hell; as well as a burden to her.

Later on, it so happened that the king of Okitikpupa, who only had a so before the departure of his lovely Queen, made a great feast for the Prince was of age that it made the King anxious that his son is up to the age and should be married, but has not eyed any maiden, neither has he brought any to the palace for a visit.

The King invited all the grand maidens in the land, from the daughters of his Baales, his Chiefs, to the daughters of the commoners. It was to be a very splendid affair, for the king made sure hyis special adviser and his chiefs were at the center of the whole arrangement; the feast was to last for three says.

“I have the fullest of confidence that at the end of this three days feast, my son will choose her that will be his bride, not with all the maidens I foreseen coming to grace the feast. He will be slept off his feet,” the King said to his Chiefs.

Moreover, the people of Okitikpupa were very eager to be invited to it, for it was known that the Prince would choose his bride amongst the maidens present.

And so, Ramota’s sisters received invitations, just as other maidens of the town got theirs; and from the day they received their invitations they talked of nothing but of what they should wear, for each of them secretly hoped that she would be chosen as the Prince’s bride.

When the great day finally came at long last, her sisters began to dress for the feast immediately after breakfast. Ramota was forced to help them in their dressing process; they kept her busy all day doing their hair, running messages, doing the house chores as well as, lacing their fine dresses.

When Ramota saw their beautiful clothes, she so wished she as well could attend the feast but feared the reaction of step-mother. So timidly she asked her sisters if she might come with them but they did no better than laughed in mocking scorn. “You, go to the feast!” the eldest of the two girls said. “What would you do at the feast with your rags and tattered dirty face?” The other replied “probably eat with your hand!” she laughed aloud.
“No Ramota, go back to your seat amongst the ashes – that is the place for a little kitchen girl like you!” Buki said.

So the two sisters and their mother drove away in a Brougham, for the King sent out all he’s to the homes of all the eligible maidens to be conveyed to the palace for the three days. But Ramota was left behind, alone to herself; she retired back to the kitchen to get something’s done and then proceeded later to her room in the store-room.

At the kitchen she was unable to do a thing, for she was down-casted and wondered why her life was so filled with sorrowful events that she sat on her favorite spot and began to cry softly to herself, for there was never a shoulder for her to lean on. She felt so lonely and miserable.

As she sat on the mortar in the slightly dark kitchen, with the firelight dancing over her, and her face buried in her hands, she heard a voice calling out to her;

“Ramota! Ramota!! Ramota!!!

With a startled heart she looked up to see who it was, and there on the little stool in front of her stood an old woman, leaning upon a stick. She was dressed in a long purple Ankara, she wore a well polished white spakling high-heeled shoes and a heavily tied Igele.

Wherever she had sprang from, Ramota had no ideal and could not imagine either. This made Ramota’s thought dangle; her thought, “Certainly she did not come in through the door, nor through the windows for all were shut properly just as I stepped inside.” She was so surprised to see her and to how she managed to gain entrance into the house that she stopped crying and stared at the old woman in astonishment.

“Why are you crying?” asked the old woman.

“Because my mother and sisters have gone to the feast, while I’m left here, all alone,” said Ramota.

The old lady then inquired of her, “do you wish to go to the feast too!”

“Yes, but it is of no good, for I have nothing but rags to wear”, sobbing poor Ramota replied.

“Well well! Be a good girl and stop crying”, she said to Ramota briskly. “I am your guardian god-mother, I have always been by your side even before your parents departed but this is your first time of encountering me. If only you do what I ask you, perhaps, you shall make it to the feast after all”.

“Anything, god-mother! Anything!” Ramota replied.

“Now run out to the backyard and get me the biggest basin” Ramota ran out to the backyard as fast as she could to get the biggest of basin she could find. “Now go, get a rat trap from the store-room”, said her god-mother; Ramota hurried to get it and behold there was a rat in the trap. The old woman harnessed it in the basin; then she caught a bee flying pass and the set it to drive. She waved the tip of her dress with her left hand over the basin, the bee and the rat, immediately and magically the basin transformed into a gorgeous Brougham, the rat became a beautiful horse, while the bee turned into a coach-man with a well brushed hair and silky attire.

“There!” said her god-mother “is a ride that will take you to the feast.”

“No!” said Ramota “how am I to go to the feast without a proper dress to wear but this”, looking down at her dress, touching her raggy frock.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, holding her chip. “Is that all? For it almost slipped my mind.” One’s more she waved the tip if her long Ankara attire and Ramota,s rags changed into the most beautiful Asoke dress in the world, all shining with diamond and silver threads, covered with costly jewelries that has never been seen in the whole of Okitipupa town. In her hair was a circlet of pearls and her feet were shod with the prettiest and daintiest pair of silver slippers that ever were seen.
“Now, you can go to the feast, but mind you, you must leave the palace before the Announcer brings the feast to a close, for should you linger beyond that time, all your splendor will vanish and your dress will turn into rags”, said her god-mother.

And so Ramota promised to obey the words of her god-mother to the latter; then she got into the beautiful Brougham, the coach-man whipped up the horse and away she went to the feast.

When she arrived, there was a great stir in the palace. “So lovely a face and so costly and rich a dress that has never been seen before in our town”, said one of the maidens at the feast and every other person thought her to be a newly princess that had just Arrived from a foreign land. All the courtiers and other guests stoop back to set her pass.

However, when the Prince caught sight of her, he fell in love with her on the spot; immediately he walked to her disregarding other maiden’s present, took her by the hand and they both dined and danced the whole of the evening

It then came to the mind of all present at the feast that there was no doubt as to whom the prince would choose as his bride. So they decided to enjoy themselves to the fullest for the next two days left for the feast.

At a time Ramota’s eyes moved mistakenly to the direction of the announcer, there and t hen she remembered her god-mother’s instructions; said good-bye to the Prince and hurried away. She arrived home just as the Announcer concluded the announcement. At once the coach-man, driver and Brougham returned back to their real form. Her sister came back a little later; there was Ramota dressed in her shabby rags and sitting at her usual spot.

The two ugly sisters discussed about the strange Princess who was at the feast in the presence of Ramota but their mother came in and orders Ramota inside. They talked about her the whole night. It was a little bit fascinating and unknown to them that all the while the strange beautiful lady was their despised sister.

The next evening, after her sister’s had left again for the feast, her god-mother made her appearance and once again Ramota drove to the Palace in her Brougham, this time adorned in a still more gorgeous and beautiful attire.

Again, her and the Prince dined and danced all the evening. But when the third night came, Ramota was enjoying herself so much that she quite forgot what her god-mother had told her until suddenly she heard the Announcer making his announcement. There it dawned on her that as soon as the announcement is over her splendor will vanish and so she jumped up in alarm running out of the room at which they where dining. The Prince ran after her, trying to overtake her but she ran in fright, so fast that he could only hold on to the fourth finger of her right hand. She pulled hard anyway and ran away. The Prince was left with the silver ring she had on.

The Prince stopped to gaze at the object in his hand, giving Ramota enough time to escape, of which she was only but in time. Just as she was crossing the Palace yard, the Announcer concluded his announcement and immediately all her finery vanished into thin air. There she was dressed in her ragged clothe again.

When the Prince came out of the Palace steps, he saw no sign of the lovely Princess. The guards at the gate told him that no one of such has walked pass the gate except for a little ragged kitchen girl, on his enquires. He had to return to the feast with the diamond ring to remind him of the beautiful lady with whom he was so helplessly in love with.

The next day, the king sent out all his men and trumpeters with a proclamation that states’ “The Prince would marry the lady whose fourth right hand finger fits the ring”.

It so happened that the ring never was a fitting on the finger of all the maidens that have so tried it on, it was either too thin or too fat.

At long last the men and trumpeters’ arrived at the house where Ramota lived; this so cheered their mother for she said in her heart, “One amongst my daughters most surely be the Price’s bride”.

The eldest of the two girls, Buki tried on the ring first but it was quite impossible for her to get her fourth finger in. then said her mother who was watching eagerly. “Be quick! Cut off the fourth to try it on the fifth, then it will stand as the fourth,” with a carving knife in her hand.

Buki stared in surprise. “What does it matter if you are with four fingers on your right hand? At least you would be the Prince’s bride and everyone would careless about your hand.”

So then, Buki cut off the finger but it was of no use, for the ring did not fit still. Wasting so much a time, she was obliged to pass on the ring to her sister Reni but the other was of no better luck as well. She actually succeeded in place her finger in the ring; it was just too fat that it hurt her so bad that removing it paved impossible.

Her mother then urged her to cut off some skin, “What does it matter” she said. “When you are the Prince’s bride, who would be concerned on how your hand looks like anyway.”

Although Reni did just as her mother said, the ring rig became too big to fit in and finger hurt so bad. At length, she gave up the attempt to force the ring from hurting her and fitting in perfectly.

Ramota came out shyly from behind the door where she had been standing out of sight, and asked if she could try on the ring. Her step-mother and sisters were so angry that they drove her away with blows…

Astoned as I was I said to my mother, “They refused her from trying on the ring! That’s in-human”.

“Why not allow me finish before you start asking questions,” my mother replied, smiling at me of which I smiled back. “Mother please before you continue, I need a minute to use the ladies.” I soon as I returned, she continued.

“You must be out of your mind, who invited you here? Back to your post”, said her step-mother.

But the announcer objected to it, “you need not chase her away, the King has ordered that every eligible lady of the kingdom most try on the ring, none is exempted”. And so Ramota proceeded forward but her step-mother snatched the ring from the bearer to swallow. It so happened that they were lucky enough to get the ring out of her mouth before she had the chance to swallow.

The Announcer took Ramota by the hand and sat her on a chair, took her right hand and tried the ring on the fourth finger; it fitted perfectly leaving her step-mother, sisters and others staring with astonishment. No sooner had she tried on the ring that her ragged cloths changed into the beautiful feast dress she had on, on the last day.

“This is the Princess the Prince fall in love with at the feast”. The Announcer proclaimed.

“Hurray! Hurray! I was so full of excitement that she did not lose the Prince after all.”

“Maureen” my mother called, “I’m not yet through with my story. Would you please be quiet and listen as I tell you the last part of the story.” She continued.

The Prince was over-joyed to have found her again; they were married at once with much pomp amid great rejoicings. But as for her wicked sisters, they were as jealous as they have always been that they both turned strinked with envy. They grew uglier by the pass of everyday, until at last they grew so dreadfully ugly that nobody could bear to look at them any longer.

Their mother died some years later after Ramota’s marriage to the Prince. But Ramota became more and more beautiful that she lived happily with the Prince and her newly found relations. And till date, she is the best of adored Queen the land of Okitikpupa had ever recorded.

“Mother, it is quite an interesting story. I’m so glad that Ramota was not left in the store-room and in the kitchen for the rest of her life.”

“That is why whatsoever anyone is destined to be in life can never be snatched away. She was never destined to be a kitchen girl but her relatives wanted to subject her to slavery but her destiny still caught up with her. No man’s destiny is far from him, it may take long but it will certainly not take forever to come to pass.” Mother said to me and I nodded in agreement.

“So” I said, “one’s destiny is never stopped no matter how difficult it may seem.”

“And this is exactly want I need you to understand, no matter what you destiny can never be twisted be anyone, if and only if you keep this in mind, it will stand as a driving force that keeps you moving forward regardless of what may want to pull you backwards.” She breathes down, “my child you have heard enough for the day, it is time you tire to bed”.

It was exactly 1:00am when we got through with the story, there and then I realized I had not touched the ground-nut and biscuit and had only taken a glass of the Chapman.

My mother wanted to eat out of the biscuit but I refused her saying, “No! no! no! I will refrigerate it all and have it when I awake by morning”. And so I stood up with a whole lot of delight and went straight to my room reminiscing on the story until I fell as sleep.…...

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...Spring Semester, Unit 1 Common Assessment MWJH Seventh Grade Language Arts Instructions: For questions 1-16, read O. Henry’s “After Twenty Years” beginning on page 324 in the blue Prentice Hall literature book. 1. From which perspective does the narrator tell this story? A. First person B. Third person limited C. Third person omniscient D. Third person objective 2. Which of the following choices best describes how a reader can determine the narrator’s perspective in this story? A. The story features such pronouns as I, me, my, etc., and the narrator is a character. B. The story features such pronouns as he, she, they, them, etc. The narrator is not a character and only follows the thoughts and feelings of one character. C. The story features such pronouns as he, she, they, them, etc. The narrator is not a character and is apparently able to follow the thoughts and feelings of all characters. D. The story features such pronouns as he, she, they, them, etc. The narrator is not a character and only tells the events of the story through action and dialogue—no thoughts and feelings from the characters. 3. Which of the following choices features the type of figurative language that is used in the first sentence of “After Twenty Years”? A. idiom B. metaphor C. simile D. personification 4. Which of the following choices best describes the imagery produced by the figurative language and narration within the first few......

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...A STORY OF HONESTY   A successful business man was growing old and knew it was time to choose a successor to take over the business. Instead of choosing one of his directors or his children, he decided to do something different. He called all the young executives in his company together. “It is time for me to step down and choose the next CEO,” he said.”I have decided to choose one of you.” The young executives were shocked, but the boss continued. “I am going to give each one of you a seed today – a very special seed. I want you plant the seed, water it, and come back here one year from today with what you have grown from the seed I have given you. I will then judge the plants that you bring, and the one I choose will be the next CEO.”   One man, named Jim, was there that day and he, like the others, received a seed. He went home and excitedly, told his wife the story. She helped him get a pot, soil and compost and he planted the seed.Every day, he would water it and watch to see if it had grown.After about three weeks, some of the other executives began to talk about their seeds and the plants  that were beginning to grow. Jim kept checking his seed, but nothing ever grew.Three weeks, four weeks, five weeks went by, still nothing. By now,others were talking about their plants, but Jim didn’t have a plant and he felt like a failure.Six months went by – still nothing in Jim’s pot. He just knew he had killed his seed. Everyone else had trees and tall plants, but he had......

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...1. The Gift of the Magi "The Gift of the Magi" is a short story written by O. Henry (a pen name for William Sydney Porter), about a young married couple and how they deal with the challenge of buying secret Christmas gifts for each other with very little money. As a sentimental story with a moral lesson about gift-giving, it has been a popular one for adaptation, especially for presentation during the Christmas season. The plot and its "twist ending" are well-known, and the ending is generally considered an example of situational irony. It was allegedly written at Pete's Tavern[2][3] on Irving Place in New York City. Plot Mr. James Dillingham Young ("Jim") and his wife, Della, are a couple living in a modest flat. They each have one possession in which they take pride: Della's beautiful long, flowing hair and Jim's gold watch, which had belonged to his father and grandfather. On Christmas Eve, with only $1.87 in hand, and desperate to find a gift for Jim, Della sells her hair for $20, and eventually finds a platinum fob chain for Jim's watch for $21. Happy to have found the perfect gift at last, she runs home and begins to prepare dinner. When Jim comes home, he looks at Della with an expression “that she could not read, and it terrified her.” Della then admits to Jim that she sold her hair to buy him his present. Jim gives Della her present — an array of expensive combs for her hair (referred to as “The Combs”). Della then shows Jim the chain she bought for him,......

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...good in glasses.  He had more dates than me and all the girls loved him!  Boy, sometimes I was jealous.  Today was one of those days.  I could see that he was nervous about his speech.  So, I smacked him on the back and said, "Hey, big guy, you'll be great!" He looked at me with one of those looks (the really grateful one) and smiled. "Thanks," he said. As he started his speech, he cleared his throat, and began  "Graduation is a time to thank those who helped you make it through those tough years. Your parents, your teachers, your siblings, maybe a coach... but mostly your friends.  I am here to tell all of you that being a friend to someone is the best gift you can give them.  I am going to tell you a story." I just looked at my friend with disbelief as he told the story of the first day we met. He had planned to kill himself over the weekend.  He talked of how he had cleaned out his locker so his Mom wouldn't have to do it later and was carrying his stuff home.  He looked hard at me and gave me a little smile.  "Thankfully, I was saved.  My friend saved me from doing the unspeakable." I heard the gasp go through the crowd as this handsome, popular boy told us all about his weakest moment.  I saw his mom and dad looking at me and smiling that same grateful smile.  Not until that moment did I realize it's depth. Never underestimate the power of your actions.  With one small gesture you can change a person's life.  For better or for worse.  God puts us all in each......

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...short stories, 250 words long look up, look to the sides, just don’t look at the reflection in the bar mirror She’s a red dress and thick rimmed glasses and all sorts of wit and intelligence in conversation. Next to her is a man that’s just a little more dim witted and a flannel shirt that was pressed just slightly too recently. And all around them are duplicates; replicants- people that are acquaintances or soon to be fair weather friends. All around them are life paths that they were one butterfly away from taking. The woman in the red dress is yawning now- opening her mouth so wide people near her can see the fills in her molars- but she doesn’t yawn consciously. She is uncouth without even giving a thought to it. She is feeling tired. More importantly, she’s feeling hungry- trying to eat in all the air that is around to prove to herself that her heart still beats and it’s not all just a dream. Among all of the people by the bar there is color- various colors- some bright, some subdued and pastel. The coloring of their clothing tell stories that are alike in their uniqueness. She lays one hand on the bar and shakes her head. He looks at her, concerned, and asks what’s wrong. “Nothing,” she lies. “Are you sure?” he asks. “Yes. Let’s dance.” She takes his hand out of his pocket, lifts him away from the bar, and they sway back and forth, back and forth, until all the notes blend into one beat. Until she can create the......

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