Mama, mama, I called out as I saw saliva pouring out like volcanic eruptions from my baby’s mouth. I was filled with fear as a young mother with no experience in such situations.
And up, mama stood, taking my baby into her arms with so much ease like a hungry bear seizing its prey.
She fumbled into her nylon bag “her only companion from the village” searching for something. I tried standing up from our weathered mat to assist my aging mother but she bid me to be still saying that I still needed care myself…. I wished I could
She stopped her search and started making some strange incantations which was quite disturbing and so I shifted my attention to the lantern no longer bright enough to give light to the room which I have been sharing with all sorts of insects ever since I moved in and tonight, they all seemed to be running around in glee, knowing mama and I had no time to kill.
I tried to move only to welcome back my new but lingering pain I got from an accident earlier in the day. I was on my way back from work, a beggar’s pride, hawking my wares on the ever busy streets of Lagos when I was knocked down by a hit and run driver and my treatment was the stares of the passers-by, young and old, painting the streets of Lagos; red and not gold but I thank God for mama, who rubbed me with ointment and bandaged my bleeding feet.
Ngozi, Ngozi, mama called me, bringing me out of what will forever remain a painful memory, “you can go back to sleep, your baby is alright”.
And then, the pain was gone, my fear was killed; I could only admire mama as I drifted off to sleep.