POWER-GIRL DIARIES 1


I'm pretty sure I didn't get a wink of sleep the night before that day. The excitement was as riveting as I had heard it would be. Travelling on your own, to somewhere far away from a miserable place to start a new life at the age of twenty. Yes, definitely riveting.

"I can't believe this girl. What kind of a...." I barely heard Papa's whispered words coming from the adjoining room. Our seen-better-days brick house, which was considered one of the 'prides' of our village, had three bedrooms all joined together. I shared a room with my immediate younger sister, Nnedi, snorer of the millenium.

"I thought you could talk some sense..." There came the hushed tones again. Normally, I shut my ears out to their early morning conversations, but this time, I had to hear.
I levitated to the wall as noiselessly as I could, not that it was necessary. Queen snorer wouldn't wake in an earthquake.
I pressed my left ear to the cold brick and immediately thought better of it. I wouldn't want to have ants building a colony in my ear on such an exciting day. I withdrew my ear and inch and listened.

"Ogenna is a rich young man. Handsome and strong. He has a booming tiliphone shop in Enugu town. He can take care of our daughter and even send her younger ones to school. Why is she so head-strong? I married you when you were eighteen. She is twenty. What is all this ramble about her wanting to go to school? I can't afford mahadum fees. She finished Secondary two years ago. Ogenna doesn't want her to worry about school. He can take care of her and provide for her. He wants to start a family immediately. Is that not all a woman should dream of?" Papa finished with a cantankerous hiss. I could bet steam was coming out of his ears.
"My husband," Mama began in her deep alto voice, so deep most people always mistook her for a man.
"Your daughter is as stubborn as you are. I have tried my best to dissuade her from her plans to travel to the city but she has refused to listen. She said she wants to go to mahadum. She will work and sponsor herself. She thinks it is doable. I have told her it is impossible, but she has refused to listen. A woman's pride is in her husband's home. Ogenna is such a fine man. Hei! My daughter ooo! Why allow such good fortune to pass you by?" Mama's voice had become weepy. Much like my heart.
I hated to see or hear Mama cry. I hated to see Papa utterly disappointed in me. I hated that they couldn't send me to the University, which they called Mahadum, in our native tongue, meaning 'Know it all'. I hated the fact that my three younger siblings might stop going to school after this term. I hated Ogenna for being such an arrogant, selfish and proud suitor, who didn't love me one inch, and whom I couldn't love for all the diamonds in the world. He just wanted, in his own words, a beautiful wife with child-bearing hips. My goodness! I hated all this. Which was all the more reason why I had to leave this village and go to Port-Harcourt today.

I had graduated from Umeobodo High School two years ago. It was a good school actually, which is not always the case with community schools. I graduated as the best the school had seen in many years, yet nobody could give me a scholarship. I was a reader and an inquisitive student. I became very versatile at a young age. All I wanted was to study Computer Engineering, because that area fascinated me to the very last. I thought of people who had computer knowledge as super-humans. The lady who worked at the only Cyber-Café in my village, spelt as 'Syber Cafy' was highly revered by me. Her deficiency in English was a mere weak point, but the effect was greatly suffered by the illiterate villagers who brought her their letters to type.

I wanted to go to my aunt in PH. My father's elder twin sister. She told me I could come and help her in her Fast-Food place. I was happy. I had always been a hard-worker, and I could save some money for school.
I had my big duffel bag all packed. I had never been one to need too much things, not that I had much. I also had a big school bag packed with some personal effects, after whispering a prayer for my stitches to hold the aging straps. I said my morning prayers, brushed my teeth with thankfully, the last squeeze of the locally-made toothpaste, took a cold bath because I couldn't start blowing the tinker stove with all the child-like excitement. I took out my black ankle-length khaki skirt, carefully pressed with the only electric iron in the vicinity, Mama Obi's. Before I had a chance to press my pink cotton blouse, her son had snatched the iron from me. The rude village boy.
I combed out my shoulder-length virgin hair and applied some powder on my face and Vaseline on my lips. Then it was time to go and see my parents. Whoa! Deep breaths.

To be continued...






Gabby Tunde-Daniels
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