Hi everyone, this is my first time posting my work here. Although this is not the first story I have written so far, I know that I still have a lot to learn therefore any constructive criticism is welcomed. Thank you!

Trigger warning : Suicide, rape and abortion.

This is a fictional work and any resemblance to any person dead or alive is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2022 by Nahr Adu

All rights reserved.

Please don't plagiarize!

***
Present day


I stand in front of the house wrapped in a yellow raincoat, beads of rain dripping down my body pooling at my feet. The rusty big black gate hangs loosely on its hinges swinging inwards revealing the rot and state of decay the house is in. I take in a deep breath as I walk inside stepping gingerly over a log of wood abandoned at the gate. I had earlier walked in the pouring rain which is now falling lightly in drizzles. The neighborhood children are kicking an old ball in the empty yard in front of the house not minding the rain. They pause their play and look at the strange woman entering the derelict house their mothers always warned them about.

I look around the house conscious of the little faces peeping at me from outside the gaping windows. I take off my raincoat shaking off the water shivering slightly as cold breeze envelopes me. Dressed in a knee length black gown my petite frame is drowned in the vast emptiness of the room. My short brown braids are thankfully dry and I adjust the band holding them together at the back of my head. Suddenly the rain starts falling again, with shouts of joy the children scamper and run towards the direction of the nearest house for shelter leaving me to myself.

The rain finds its way through the yawning roof and starts gathering rapidly into a puddle. I see a long forgotten plastic chair in a corner of the room where the roofing is slightly intact and sit down. Reaching into the bag on my lap, I bring out a black nylon containing boiled groundnuts and a bottle of water. I untie the nylon and crack open the nut popping the salty seeds in my mouth. Chewing slowly I remember everything as if it happened yesterday, my mind reeling and going back in time. The rain serving as a barrier shields me from the outside world.

***

Twelve years ago

My mother died shortly after my father leaving me an orphan with no family except my aunt whom I had never seen. She was my mother’s twin sister and she left the village when she was eighteen around the same time my mother got married. I couldn’t recognize her face and I had stared at the thin woman with bulging eyes and wide mouth when she showed up at my mother’s burial.
“You are coming with me to the city,” she said as I stood beside the grave weeping silently.

I had lived all my life in the village and for a very long time I thought that the city was a place with glistening roads that stretched on and on till eternity. A place where night never fell, where streetlamps turned night to day and gorgeous people strode about holding hands speaking fancy words which I was sure I wouldn’t understand.

To my disappointment, the sight that first met my eyes when I got to the city was a giant mound of rubbish sitting down solidly in front of a dingy apartment with several rooms one of which my aunt shared with nine other families. The smell from the rubbish always found its way to the room and the door and window were always locked leaving the room almost inhabitable. The smell was so repulsive that its occupants were always outdoors during the day returning only to sleep at night. It was in this squalor that I found myself in the April of 2010.

The day I arrived my cousin Lade my aunt’s only child had welcomed me as if I was a close family member. She had looked at her mother asking with her eyes where I was expected to sleep in the small room. My aunt had answered loudly in reply, “Omolara is only here to stay for the night, tomorrow she is going to start working at Alhaja’s house, you only have to create space for her on the mat tonight ehn”.

There was a tattered narrow mattress on the floor beside the mat and a sagging old brown couch was the only furniture in the room. The room was crowded with Ghana must go bags containing clothes, plastic buckets, bowls and a fat black water drum sitting behind the wooden door. A line ran through the length of the room sagging with the weight of clothes hanged on it serving as a kind of wardrobe for my aunt and her daughter.

That night I squeezed beside my cousin on the local raffia mat with my old ankara wrapper wrapped around my body mosquitoes buzzing around. Unable to sleep the memories of my parents death flash across my mind. If only my father had not fallen from the palm tree leading to his paralysis and subsequent death a month after, my mother would not have killed herself.

At first, everyone thought that it was the normal grieving process when my mother stopped talking to anyone. Then days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and she still refused to speak. By then she had forgotten how to groom herself and had one time walked out of the house naked in broad daylight. People started referring to her as ‘alagoran’ a mad woman.

With no other relative in the village except me her daughter, the sole role of taking care of my mother fell on me. I did my best to make her appearance neat and never let her out of my sight. I would sit my mother on a low wooden stool in the raffia enclosed bathroom behind our mud house and scoop water with a small plastic bowl from a big stainless basin and wash her. I scrubbed her from her shaved head to her toes.

When I asked my mother to stand up she would only grunt in reply and turn her head to the side not bothering to look at me. I had broken down in tears on countless occasions pleading with her to say something to me even if she didn’t want to talk to other people.

A kind villager sympathized with my situation and she took me to Baba Awo the village’s priest. The old man consulted Ifa and went ahead to tell me that it was my father’s spirit disturbing my mother. He explained that they had sworn an oath that death could not separate them, wherever one went the other would follow. I had begged the baba crying on my knees that he should speak to my father to leave my mother’s spirit alone and let her remain with me here on earth.

Baba Awo told me he would offer sacrifices to appease my father’s spirit and my mother’s eleda to part ways and break the oath. The next day after the visitation I found my mother dangling by the neck from the big odan tree in front of our house. I remember the sudden lightness that swarmed my head as I started screaming for help that morning my voice piercing through the stillness of the village.

When the neighbors arrived, I was heralded away from the site by the women who had joined me in screaming while the men went in search of a ladder and cutlass to cut the body down with. The burial had been hush as my mother’s death was sudden and shameful.
She was buried in a shallow grave at the foot of the tree beside my father whose grave was still fairly fresh.

I remembered seeing everything but not taking anything in, the red mud of the freshly dug grave identical to my swollen eyes. That night the women kept vigil with me inside the house since I was now the only occupant. My mother had remained childless after giving birth to me, her subsequent pregnancies always ending in miscarriages.

Few days later my aunt arrived from the city and arrangements were made for me to leave with her.

Trickle of tears found its way down my chin and I sniffed gently not wanting to be heard above the loud snores around me. I turned on my side my wet cheek sticking to the mat.

Lade seemed unaware of my plight but she had been genuinely happy when she met me even though it was our first time knowing each other. She braided my unkempt hair into allback the next morning and insisted that her mother allow her accompany me to Alhaja’s house where I was to start working as a housemaid.

***

Present day


My phone starts ringing cutting through the harmonious sound of the rain jolting me from my thoughts. I reach inside my bag and bring out my phone. It is my husband and I let it ring. I don’t know what to say to him. I left home this morning without telling him where I was going to. The phone stops ringing and a text message buzz in.

“Where are you? I am worried.” It reads. “I am just somewhere I need to be, don’t panic.” I text him back.

I switch my phone off and standing up put it back inside my bag on the seat. The rain is drizzling already and the sun is peeping out lazily from the sky throwing its weak rays down to earth. Wandering across the room I move towards the window looking out to the vast space in front of the house where the children had been playing earlier. I bend down and move my hand to massage my knees which is already stiff from sitting too long. The rain starts suddenly increasing its tempo falling heavily the loud noise washing over me as I return to my seat.

*

Twelve years ago

The first thing I noticed as soon as I entered the big European style bungalow house that afternoon was the emptiness of the sitting room. The room was set in brown and cream decor, the large space in the living room bigger than my aunt’s and three other neighbor rooms combined. A huge ceiling fan hung from the ceiling whirling gently cooling the room. On the floor was a soft brown rug and my feet sank into it.

Standing beside my aunt and Lade that afternoon, we awaited Alhaja who had earlier informed my aunt who once worked for her that she needed a live in maid to take care of the house.

I smelled her before I saw her. Wrapped in a long lilac hijab, a beautiful buxom woman entered the sitting room from a bedroom tucked behind cream curtains. She called out sweetly to my aunt.

“Julie is that you? bawo ni? eku ojo meta, you have brought the girl I see. Please sit down” she said sitting down herself.

I sat down on a big plush brown couch that swallowed my butt. With my black polythene bag containing my personal effects clutched in front of me on my lap I looked at my feet. I was too shy to look at the woman in charge of this big heavenly house.

“What is your name?” she asked me smiling sweetly revealing small pearly white teeth and a dimple on her left cheek.

Alhaja as she was called was fair skinned and I was sure that if I moved closer to her I would see my reflection in her smooth creamy skin. Alhaja was as spotless as the interior of her sitting room. She and her husband had gone to mecca as a young couple and the title Alhaja and Alhaji accorded to women and men who had been on the holy pilgrimage was attached to the wife and husband respectively and it had stuck since then.

“Omolara ma,” I answered meekly raising my head timidly to look at her.

“How old are you?” she continued and I answered seventeen.

“Oh you are still a small girl. The last maid I had left to get married, I hope you can work very well” she said her smile still in place. I was astonished that this rich and beautiful woman was talking to me nicely. I answered in the affirmative that I could work.

“Okay you can start work tomorrow, for now just go and settle in your room” she replied.

What room? Was I to have a room all to myself in this lovely house? My jaw fell open in astonishment when my new boss led me to a room tucked in the last end of the house beside the visitor’s room. It was small but it was still larger than my aunt’s room. Lade looked at me enviously. I was going to have a room to myself in this beautiful house Alhaja was indeed generous.

She had already discussed the pay with my aunt. I was to be paid twenty thousand naira monthly. It was a lot of money. I had never in my life had that amount, even when my parents were alive our monthly income never amounted to twenty thousand. Since I would be able to get free three square meals and accommodation, I didn’t have to spend out of the money. The money would go to my aunt for safekeeping and a small percentage would go to her for maintaining the household.

I saw my aunt and Lade to the gate and my aunt looked at me in the eyes and said. “Work hard and don’t disappoint me, this is the only opportunity you have. Alhaja is usually nice but she doesn’t like people who lie and steal. Take care of yourself you can always come and visit us.”

I nodded unable to talk with the knot in my throat. The tears were starting to form in my eyes already so I turned my head downwards. Here I was in a strange place about to be left alone without any kin or friend.

I watched my aunt and cousin from the gate as they trekked down the long street to get an okada to take them back to their place. That night I lied on the soft bed in my new room and gazed at the ceiling for a long time not used to the new luxury, the ceiling fan rotating noiselessly.

nahr

You're very good.

Jack273:
nahr

You're very good.

Thanks Jack! I am mentioning you in my next update for commenting first!

nahr:


Thanks Jack! I am mentioning you in my next update for commenting first!

I'll be on the lookout for your mention

Jack273:


I'll be on the lookout for your mention

Okay!!

@Jack273

***

Present day


The rain has finally stopped and the sun is shining brightly already. Goosebumps form across my exposed arms as a draught sweeps through the gaping windows. I rub my palms against each other briskly, the warmth seeping through my body.
I started seeing a therapist last month when I began to wake up in the middle of the night screaming for my dead parents. It had been going on for over a while and my husband eventually suggested the therapist when he couldn’t bear the sight of me thrashing around on the bed every night anymore.

The first time I met the therapist, the pint sized woman with graying afro hair looked calmly at me as I sat across her. My husband was not with me, he sat in the car outside to wait for me. The woman asked me if I saw things and I had answered no. She asked if my husband had forced me to come and I said no. She then asked me if I had been assaulted in any way before.

A knot wedged in my throat and the tears started down my face dropping on the yellow blouse I wore. The therapist looked on silently offering no words of consolation but she gently handed me a box of tissues giving me time to wipe the tears from my face. I had begun talking but suddenly burst into violent tears and again the therapist was not surprised.

I told her all the sordid details and how I hated my body. I could never enjoy sex and I also didn’t want to give birth.
She noted all these in her jotter and as she wrote I looked around the small office. Her desk was almost empty except for her note and a laptop. Painted a soft baby blue, the room itself was almost empty except for a painting of a flower in a vase on the wall and an air conditioner placed in the corner keeping the room cool.

The therapist glanced up from her note, adjusted her glasses and looked at me.

“So this house you always see in your dream, have you ever been there since you left? Have you ever considered going back?” She asked.

I had shaken my head no. She then went ahead to tell me that I had to move on and I should go back to where it all happened so I might be able to release myself from whatever it was that was holding me back. I was to seek closure she had said.

It has been months since I started seeing the therapist. The nightmares were still recurring and this morning without telling my husband I left the house leaving a note behind that I needed to find myself again. I feel sorry for my husband and I wonder if he would have been better off with another woman. These days I feel like a taint on his life.

***

Twelve years ago

I started work immediately settling easily into my daily routine. Alhaja was a business woman who sold gold jewelries and expensive lace. She travelled from Nigeria to China and Dubai to buy her wares and her business was going well. She had three boutiques in different malls which she supervised from time to time.

The first time I met her husband I was awed. My boss was beautiful and Alhaji was perfectly suited for her. He was a chocolate toned man with hard muscular body. He towered over almost everybody, easily swallowing up his wife’s frame when they stood beside each other. He had a large booming voice that always filled the house and when he laughed it rumbled, the sound rattling the windows and doors in the house.

Alhaji was a large scale farmer who had many people working for him. Unlike his wife he did all his business in Nigeria. He owned many hectares of land where he grew spices and cocoa. He sold his farm produce to foreign buyers who came to Nigeria to buy the raw materials from him.

Unfortunately my boss and her husband had no children of their own and they were both in their late forties. Alhaji always called my boss by her first name Sefi whenever they were together. She had gotten pregnant and given birth on several occasions like many married women but the babies where always born dead. She had stopped trying and she resolved herself to fate.

I wanted to slap myself that morning when I asked her if I should prepare food for her and the children the next day I arrived. I assumed that the children must have been out and that explained their absence. She smiled sadly when she told me gently that she didn’t have any. I apologized profusely and prayed that God answer her prayer, even though she told me that she wasn’t trying for a child again.

Two weeks after I started working for her, my boss informed me that she was travelling on a business trip and she left me to take care of her husband in her absence. I felt slightly unsettled with this as it was the first time that I would stay alone in the house with Alhaji and besides her trip would last up to three weeks. I waved her goodbye from the front gate that morning as her husband drove her to the airport.

I was left alone in the big house for the first time. I proceeded to start cleaning the house before Alhaji got back. I ran my hand across the silken cream curtains in the sitting room and went through the pile of CDs under the shelf carrying a big Sony TV which Alhaja loved watching when she was around.

I went through the CDs of Sunny Ade, Ayinla Omowura , Sikiru Ayinde Barrister, Haruna Ishola and there were also CDs of foreign musicians I had never heard of before with names like Michael Jackson, Celine Dion, Miriam Makeba and Angelique Kidjo all of which I found difficult to pronounce.

A bulky short speaker sat beneath the TV on the shelf and on it was a silver CD player. There was also a DSTV player and I watched many foreign shows with Alhaja when I was done with my chores. Alhaja would call me when the E! channel she loved started showing her favorite shows.

I would sit with her finding it hard to keep up with the white people as they spoke English in a manner that was too fast for me to comprehend. I enjoyed the shows and I would beam with delight happy that my boss treated me like her family member.

My eyes went to the framed pictures lining the wall and I saw a picture of a young Alhaja and her husband caught in an embrace in the front of a beautiful waterfall, white people captured at the background. There was another picture of the couple taken during their traditional wedding. Alhaja and her husband wore identical brown aso oke, she knelt in front of her husband who sat on a carved couple’s chair. Her head was bent towards him as he held her shoulders with a smile on his face.

I was sweeping the sitting room when Alhaji returned. His strong perfume clouded the room, the musky scent filling my nose.

“Welcome sir” I greeted him genuflecting and he nodded in reply.

I left what I was doing and went to the kitchen to get him water to drink. I was putting the bottled water beside the glass cup in the tray when I smelled Alhaji behind me. I turned to face him and was surprised to see him in his singlet and boxers. He had shed his guinea buba and trousers.

He reached for me as I stretched the tray towards him and he grabbed my wrists. The look in his eyes said he was not thirsty for water but something else. My heart pounded and blood rushed to my head. I tried to remove myself from Alhaji’s grip gently. The tray fell from my hand and the glass cup shattered, tiny shards scattering between us.

nahr:
@Jack273

***

Present day


The rain has finally stopped and the sun is shining brightly already. Goosebumps form across my exposed arms as a draught sweeps through the gaping windows. I rub my palms against each other briskly, the warmth seeping through my body.
I started seeing a therapist last month when I began to wake up in the middle of the night screaming for my dead parents. It had been going on for over a while and my husband eventually suggested the therapist when he couldn’t bear the sight of me thrashing around on the bed every night anymore.

The first time I met the therapist, the pint sized woman with graying afro hair looked calmly at me as I sat across her. My husband was not with me, he sat in the car outside to wait for me. The woman asked me if I saw things and I had answered no. She asked if my husband had forced me to come and I said no. She then asked me if I had been assaulted in any way before.

A knot wedged in my throat and the tears started down my face dropping on the yellow blouse I wore. The therapist looked on silently offering no words of consolation but she gently handed me a box of tissues giving me time to wipe the tears from my face. I had begun talking but suddenly burst into violent tears and again the therapist was not surprised.

I told her all the sordid details and how I hated my body. I could never enjoy sex and I also didn’t want to give birth.
She noted all these in her jotter and as she wrote I looked around the small office. Her desk was almost empty except for her note and a laptop. Painted a soft baby blue, the room itself was almost empty except for a painting of a flower in a vase on the wall and an air conditioner placed in the corner keeping the room cool.

The therapist glanced up from her note, adjusted her glasses and looked at me.

“So this house you always see in your dream, have you ever been there since you left? Have you ever considered going back?” She asked.

I had shaken my head no. She then went ahead to tell me that I had to move on and I should go back to where it all happened so I might be able to release myself from whatever it was that was holding me back. I was to seek closure she had said.

It has been months since I started seeing the therapist. The nightmares were still recurring and this morning without telling my husband I left the house leaving a note behind that I needed to find myself again. I feel sorry for my husband and I wonder if he would have been better off with another woman. These days I feel like a taint on his life.

***

Twelve years ago

I started work immediately settling easily into my daily routine. Alhaja was a business woman who sold gold jewelries and expensive lace. She travelled from Nigeria to China and Dubai to buy her wares and her business was going well. She had three boutiques in different malls which she supervised from time to time.

The first time I met her husband I was awed. My boss was beautiful and Alhaji was perfectly suited for her. He was a chocolate toned man with hard muscular body. He towered over almost everybody, easily swallowing up his wife’s frame when they stood beside each other. He had a large booming voice that always filled the house and when he laughed it rumbled, the sound rattling the windows and doors in the house.

Alhaji was a large scale farmer who had many people working for him. Unlike his wife he did all his business in Nigeria. He owned many hectares of land where he grew spices and cocoa. He sold his farm produce to foreign buyers who came to Nigeria to buy the raw materials from him.

Unfortunately my boss and her husband had no children of their own and they were both in their late forties. Alhaji always called my boss by her first name Sefi whenever they were together. She had gotten pregnant and given birth on several occasions like many married women but the babies where always born dead. She had stopped trying and she resolved herself to fate.

I wanted to slap myself that morning when I asked her if I should prepare food for her and the children the next day I arrived. I assumed that the children must have been out and that explained their absence. She smiled sadly when she told me gently that she didn’t have any. I apologized profusely and prayed that God answer her prayer, even though she told me that she wasn’t trying for a child again.

Two weeks after I started working for her, my boss informed me that she was travelling on a business trip and she left me to take care of her husband in her absence. I felt slightly unsettled with this as it was the first time that I would stay alone in the house with Alhaji and besides her trip would last up to three weeks. I waved her goodbye from the front gate that morning as her husband drove her to the airport.

I was left alone in the big house for the first time. I proceeded to start cleaning the house before Alhaji got back. I ran my hand across the silken cream curtains in the sitting room and went through the pile of CDs under the shelf carrying a big Sony TV which Alhaja loved watching when she was around.

I went through the CDs of Sunny Ade, Ayinla Omowura , Sikiru Ayinde Barrister, Haruna Ishola and there were also CDs of foreign musicians I had never heard of before with names like Michael Jackson, Celine Dion, Miriam Makeba and Angelique Kidjo all of which I found difficult to pronounce.

A bulky short speaker sat beneath the TV on the shelf and on it was a silver CD player. There was also had a DSTV player and I watched many foreign shows with Alhaja when I was done with my chores. Alhaja would call me when the E! channel she loved started showing her favorite shows.

I would sit with her finding it hard to keep up with the white people as they spoke English in a manner that was too fast for me to comprehend. I enjoyed the shows and I would beam with delight happy that my boss treated me like her family member.

My eyes went to the framed pictures lining the wall and I saw a picture of a young Alhaja and her husband caught in an embrace in the front of a beautiful waterfall, white people captured at the background. There was another picture of the couple taken during their traditional wedding. Alhaja and her husband wore identical brown aso oke, she knelt in front of her husband who sat on a carved couple’s chair. Her head was bent towards him as he held her shoulders with a smile on his face.

I was sweeping the sitting room when Alhaji returned. His strong perfume clouded the room, the musky scent filling my nose.

“Welcome sir” I greeted him genuflecting and he nodded in reply.

I left what I was doing and went to the kitchen to get him water to drink. I was putting the bottled water beside the glass cup in the tray when I smelled Alhaji behind me. I turned to face him and was surprised to see him in his singlet and boxers. He had shed his guinea buba and trousers.

He reached for me as I stretched the tray towards him and he grabbed my wrists. The look in his eyes said he was not thirsty for water but something else. My heart pounded and blood rushed to my head. I tried to remove myself from Alhaji’s grip gently. The tray fell from my hand and the glass cup shattered, tiny shards scattering between us.

Nice story, wouldn't it better tho if you publish it on apps like wattpad, it's good for beginners and it's free...... I think

Angel55555:

Nice story, wouldn't it better tho if you publish it on apps like wattpad, it's good for beginners and it's free...... I think

Hey, thanks for this information. I really don't know about wattpad, this is not a novel it's just a novellete. I will check it out but for now I will be updating here. Thanks for taking your time to read my story! I will be sure to mention you in my next update!

@Angel55555

*

Alhaji’s grip loosened and I was surprised when he reached behind me for the broom and parker lying in a corner and he went ahead to sweep the shards. I was shaken and I stood rooted on a spot watching him as he swept. After returning the broom to its former position he drew me into his embrace.

“You-you can’t do this sir, please con-consider your wife sir,” I stammered.

“Shh don’t worry, you are a beautiful girl and my eye has been on you since the first day I saw you. I really like you ehn, I can take of you” he rasped not releasing me.

I struggled to break free from his iron grip but he held me tightly and his hand went to the back of the gown I wore and he zipped the cloth down. The gown slipped from my shoulders revealing the black lacy bra I wore. Alhaji’s eyes widened as he took in the round soft mold of flesh spilling from my bra and his hands moved to cup my breasts.

He fondled them gently as if afraid to cause me pain and he unclasped the piece of clothing expertly my breasts spilling into his hands. I started screaming for help and I struggled against him to free myself but Alhaji’s strength was like that of a bear. There was no one in the big house to help me and he could handle me as much as he wanted no matter how loud I screamed.

“Stop shouting” he said laughing, “we are the only ones at home”.

He lifted me and carried me bodily to the master’s bedroom he shared with his wife leaving behind my bra where it had fallen on the kitchen floor.
He deposited me on the large bed in the big room and proceeded to rip my gown leaving me almost naked except for the pink cotton panties I still had on.

He slid it down my leg and I was completely naked in the large bed with soft white bed sheet. I begged with tears running down my cheeks and snot running from my nose. He promised me that it wouldn’t hurt, eased out of his boxers, spread open my leg and entered into me.

I felt a searing pain and screamed. He covered my mouth with his and I bit down on it with all I had. He reared his head back but only smiled wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. He moved faster and having spent all my energy I laid motionlessly beneath him the tears dripping from the corners of my eyes to the bed. His breath came in gasps as he reached his climax and he dumped his seed inside me. He rolled off me with a big smile on his face, his breath steadying.

I sobbed silently the inside of my legs throbbing. I wished it had all been a nightmare. He stood up and put on a loose caftan, he reached for me where I curled on the bed in shame and carried me inside the bathroom. He ran the tap and washed the evidence of what transpired between us away from my body.

I watched the blood flowing down my inner thighs mix with the water running down the drain. He wrapped me in a white towel and called me his woman.
Stepping out of the bathroom, my eyes fell on the scarlet stained bed sheet and I burst into a fresh round of tears. He peeled the sheet from the mattress smiling at his conquest and he threw it in a bunch at the corner of the room.

“Do you want something hot to drink” he asked me as I stood shivering from the experience and if I had a knife with me I would cut the smile away from his face and proceed to carve his heart out of his body.

***

Present day


The sun has finally asserted its dominance over the sky and the children pour out of their houses, playing noisily again in front of the house. I stand up from where I sit and move close to the window to watch the children play. If the baby had lived, it would be age mates with some of the children by now. A noise startles me and I jump. A black and white cat looks at me warily and makes its way out of the house.

Unconsciously my hand moves over my stomach the children playing outside reminding me of my childlessness. My womb sitting cold and empty feels hollow within me. One of the children turn from his play and sees me standing by the window, he walks away from his friends and run towards me. I smile at the curious child and he smiles back at me revealing an endearing set of dimples.

“What are you doing here?” he asks walking closer to me.

Standing in front of me, I notice that the brown singlet he has on is actually white. I wonder how mothers cope with the intense scrubbings they do on laundry days.

“I used to live here” I answer him.

His eyes widen and he goes on to tell me that nobody has lived in the house since he was born. I smile at his bewilderment and remember that I have a bag of sweets in my bag.

I reach in and offer it to the boy who shakes his head no.

“My mummy told me that I should never collect things from strangers” he says shyly.

“Your mummy is right” I reply returning the sweets to my bag.

I am about to ask the boy his name when I see a woman approaching us her feet moving rapidly.

“Timmy what are you doing?” she shouts and the child turns jittery on hearing her voice. He turns towards her and starts fidgeting with the wristband on his hand.

“No-no-nothing ma” he stammers.

His brother had seen him talking to a strange woman and he ran home to report the boy to their mother. She walks closer to him and twists his ear with her right hand. The poor boy whimpers in pain the tears already forming at his eyes. The woman eyes me suspiciously her hostility evident.

“Who are you? What are you doing here? tale bere?” she asks.

I look neatly dressed and can’t be conclusively said to be mentally deranged but with the news of kidnappers and ritualists milling around looking for their next victims this woman is not willing to take any chances. I bring out my purse and show her my driver’s license.

“I just came to look at the house” I say as if it explains anything.

The woman looks at me from head to toe nodding her head. “I am just being careful” she says but doesn’t bother to explain what she is being careful about.

She retreats and turns her attention towards her son who stands at a distance watching us. Dragging him along, the boy turns around to wave at me which further infuriates his mother who goes ahead to pinch his cheeks. Slightly disturbed by my confrontation with the woman, I pace around the room slowly. Memories rush through my head everything coming to me at once.

***

Twelve years ago


Three weeks after the incident, my boss arrived from Dubai bearing goods and gifts. She gave me a light pink gown and black low heeled leather sandals. If she noticed that I was moody she didn’t say anything. Her husband was his usual boisterous self and he welcomed his wife heartily.

He had not made another attempt since the incident and I had been moving about with a knife tucked inside my dress. He pretended as if everything was normal and my throat always caught in a knot whenever I was in his presence.

Anytime I was alone with my boss I always remembered his threat that if I spoke a word to his wife I would have to return to my aunt. That day he had given me twenty thousand crisp naira notes which I threw at his astonished face. He picked it without a word and since then hadn’t said another word to me.

The day after she returned, I went to Alhaja where she sat in the sitting room sipping orange juice and watching TV. I moved hesitantly towards her and asked to speak with her.

“Omolara sit down. What is it you want to say?” she asked lowering the volume of the TV.

“I will like to go home tomorrow ma, I want to check up on my aunt and Lade” I said my eyes fixed on my feet. I had been living in her house for over a month without visiting my aunt.

“Is everything okay?” she asked concern showing in her eyes when she saw my drawn face.

“Yes ma, I just want to go and see how they are” I answered meekly.

“Okay” she said turning her attention back to the TV, “you can go tomorrow and you can come back the next day, you can spend the night there”.

“Ah thank you ma” I said unshed tears brimming in my eyes. I ducked my head so that she wouldn’t see me crying. I left quietly and went to my room to pack my bag.

I sat down on my bed and wept bitterly. I would gladly exchange this life I was living with the one I had in the village before my parents’ death. Throwing my clothes into a small black duffel bag the tears blinding my eyes I cursed myself for not making an attempt to run away when the tray had fallen from my hand in the kitchen but I remembered that he had locked the kitchen door behind him when he entered leaving me trapped.

I felt dirty and couldn’t even bear the sight of my body when I bathed. At one point, I had brought the tip of a knife to my stomach while looking at myself in the mirror but I couldn’t bring myself to do it the image of my mother hanging from the tree flashing across my mind.

That night I couldn’t sleep, the memory of what transpired between Alhaji and me playing vividly across my mind and I thought I would run mad. I screamed into my pillow and sobbed into it missing my dead mother.

*

The okada sped across the road to my aunt’s place and I found myself wishing that the driver would skid off the road and crash, killing me instantly. Alighting from the bike, the foul air assaulted me. I lifted my bag on my shoulder and trudged towards the compound.

I met the door to my aunt’s room locked and the next door neighbor a heavily pregnant woman who was sitting in front of her room on the corridor with a naked toddler clinging to her leg informed me that my aunt was not yet back from her stall in the market where she sold vegetables and fruits. I contemplated going to the stall but decided against it.

The woman stood up and went inside, she gave me a plastic chair to sit on and I thanked her and sat down wearily. My cousin Lade would be with her mother where she assisted her to sell her wares. If only my mother was alive I wouldn’t have to suffer this much. The tears started again and I quickly wiped my eyes with the tip of my blouse.

The pregnant woman sat on the corridor sifting beans from a large tray in her hand, a bowl beside her leg where she dropped the sorted beans in. Her toddler sat bare butt on the dirty corridor mucus running down her nose. The child had managed to loosen the rubber thread used to plait her hair and was chewing on it chattering away to herself happily.

I hugged my bag to my chest and was beginning to doze when I heard my name. My cousin shouted joyously on seeing me and my aunt standing behind with a dirty sack in her hand looked surprised. She didn’t ask me any question and she proceeded to open the door to the room. I stepped inside the dimly lit shabby room finding it hard to stop myself from wincing at the smell that permeated the atmosphere.

“Omolara look at you, what is going on ehn? You are supposed to be fatter than this o” Lade said laughing. I smiled wearily and replied her that the work was too much.

My aunt was looking at me strangely and she motioned for me to move closer to her. She held my wrist and looked at my palm, then proceeded to drag the bottom lid of my eyes down with her forefinger.

“When last did you see your period?” she asked me.

I was caught unawares and I fumbled for words. My period was late, the month was ending today and I still hadn’t seen it.

My menstrual cycle was regular and I had never missed a month since I started three years ago. Yesterday night I vomited after eating the rice and fish stew I made for dinner. The smell of the fish had nauseated me as I cooked the stew, my mouth filled with thick saliva.

“I-I-I can’t remember ma” I stammered my eyes cast down and suddenly I burst out in tears.

“Omolara you are pregnant!” my aunt shouted “o ti loyun”.

“Bawo lo se se? How many months have you spent there? Is this how you plan to repay me” she asked her face showing her disappointment.

“It is not my fault, Al-Alha-Alhaji forced me, I-I-I was raped” I stuttered my voice shaking.

My aunt suddenly sank into the worn out couch and she wiped her palm across her face. Lade moved closer to me where I stood against the wall and drew me to sit down beside her on the couch. I sat sobbing, my chest heaving.

“How did it happen?” my aunt asked and I recounted the sordid event to her. I couldn’t complete the story as the tears threatened to choke me.

“Does Alhaja know?” my aunt asked and I shook my head no.

My eyes were bloodshot already and my head began to throb. My aunt stood up to open the window and the stench wafted strongly into the room. Lade also stood up to get me water in a battered enamel cup from the yellow 25 litres keg kept in the room.

I drank deeply from the cup and heaved a sigh thanking her.
I raised my face to the ceiling and watched a cockroach make its way slowly across its antennae darting left and right. The room was musty and I felt a wave of bile rising up my throat. I ran outside to vomit and my cousin ran after me with a bowl of water which she poured on my head as I heaved my breakfast of bread and egg into the gutter.

The pregnant neighbor eyed me warily as I walked back slowly inside. She continued with the beans she was picking her toddler already sleeping lying beside her.

“What will you do now?” my aunt asked as I entered and made my way to sit down. “How are you going to handle this pregnancy? You are too young to be a mother.” she continued. “I know what it is like to be a single mother o, adagbe adafa, it is not easy.”

“Do you want to be a home wrecker?” She asked me.

“No ma” I answered weakly.

“This pregnancy is shameful, I know a woman Iya Itunu, she can sort everything out” my aunt said looking fixedly at me. I didn’t understand what my aunt meant by sort everything out.

“What do you mean ma?” I asked naively.

“We will have to remove the pregnancy” my aunt said pointedly.

“I am scared aunty mi” I replied rubbing my feet against the other.

“Don’t worry about that, nothing will happen to you, but you are going back to that house.” She replied assuring me.

***

Present day


I bring out my phone and switch it on. Immediately my husband’s call comes in. I pick it this time and listen to my husband’s shaky voice across the line.

“Where are you? Please tell me. You are scaring me.”

“I am not going to kill myself” I assure him. “I am just seeking closure, I want to move on.”

I switch the phone off and slide it inside my bag.
The children’s play is in full swing. Some girls are skipping ropes while some boys kick a dirty ball around. I search the children with my eyes for a familiar face but I can’t find the little boy. Suddenly the ball makes its way towards me and I move away from where I stand by the window to dodge it. The ball bounces off against the wall behind me and the children rush towards the house to retrieve their ball.

I pick up the ball and walk outside the house towards the children. I am surprised to find out that the leader of the group of boys is a girl.

“Here is your ball” I say to her smiling.

The girl collects the ball from me smiling back revealing an endearing gap in front of her teeth. “Thank you ma” she lisps and she bounces off with the boys running after her.

The sun is shining brightly and a gentle breeze serenades me. I return inside the house and bring out the plastic chair. I settle back against it and breathe in the soothing breeze deeply feeling the weight on my chest melting away slowly as I watch the children play.

*

Twelve years ago

Iya Itunu was a fat woman in her late thirties, her house located two streets away from my aunt’s. Her house was a rundown partly built structure tucked behind a church owned by her late husband. She had started her profession in a private owned hospital as a quack nurse popularly known as nurse muyiwa but as time went on, she ventured into her own private practice where she treated people and delivered babies.

She clandestinely took on abortion jobs, which was more of an open secret to everyone and her oldest daughter Itunu was her right hand man, she assisted her mother in running her illegal clinic.

As soon as I stepped inside the one room clinic that morning, my eyes took in the narrow single hospital bed in the middle of the room. A big shelf stood against the wall and on it were arranged different bottles of medications. Beside the bed was a tall stool on which sat a big pack of cotton wool and a set of medical scissors and some cruel looking metal instruments, when I thought about what they might be used for I shuddered.

Iya Itunu instructed me to shed the jeans knee length gown I wore including my underwear and she told my aunt to wait outside. I was given a green checkered armless gown to wear and in the mirror across me I saw my face ashen with fear.

When my aunt had made consultations with her earlier, I had been told that I was not to eat or drink anything before coming. I laid down on the hospital bed my sweaty back sticking to the cold leather.

She went ahead to put on blue latex gloves and tie a black leathery apron over the faded floral gown she wore. Picking up one of the monstrous looking instrument I was told to open my legs wide. Cold air rushed into my exposed inners and I involuntarily closed my legs. She impatiently prodded open my laps with both of her hands and I gritted my teeth as I felt the cold metal penetrating my vagina.

I felt a sharp pain as she suddenly dragged the instrument out and I felt something warm rush out of me. I looked down and saw thick blood flowing out of me and I saw Itunu who was standing beside her mother in an identical apron pick up a tiny rodent like creature covered in blood and slime and she put it inside a black nylon bag.

I was getting weak now and could barely raise my head up as I felt cotton wool being pushed into my vagina to stop the blood. I heard my aunt coming into the room but her voice got fainter as I slipped out of consciousness.

When I woke up, the first thing I saw was the drip attached to my hand. My aunt was sitting beside me on a plastic chair with a pensive look on her face and when she saw that my eyes were opened she stood up and walked to where I was lying.

“Pele how are you now?” she asked.

My mouth was parched and the inner of my thighs felt heavy. The room was clean once more and all the bloody instruments had been cleared. No one could enter the room and know that an abortion had taken place earlier on.

“I am very weak and thirsty ma” I answered.

My eyes found the wall clock and the short hand was on six while the long hand was on 11, it was evening already. A generator sounded noisily outside supplying electricity. A yellow bulb dangled from the ceiling and an old rusty fan swung around lazily cooling the room.

Iya Itunu came inside and she checked my eyes and asked if I could see her clearly. I answered her in the affirmative. The drip was almost empty now and my aunt assisted me to sit up. Itunu came inside holding a small plastic tray containing a bottle of malt, a tin of peak milk and a rubber cup. She poured the malt and milk inside the cup and stirred it with a stainless spoon. I was handed the cup and told to drink everything. The drink slid down my dry throat and I forced the whole content down.

I started feeling sleepy again and I was told to lie down. Before I closed my eyes I saw my aunt wipe tears from her eyes with the tip of her scarf. When I woke up again, the generator was off, power was already restored. I was alone in the room and the drip was already removed. I sat upright and stood up. My legs wobbled beneath me and I sat back against the bed. I stood up and walked slowly to the window and parted the curtain. The sky was dark already and I rested my head against the metal burglary.

I heard someone enter and turned to look at who it was. Iya Itunu called me back to the bed and I sat down.

“Bawo ni? se ara e ti bale nisiyin?” she asked me.

I nodded yes that I felt better. She informed me that my aunt had gone home to prepare what I would eat. My aunt soon returned and Lade was with her carrying a small cooler in a transparent nylon bag. My cousin sat down on the bed beside me and hugged me with tears in her eyes.

“Sorry, how are you now?” she asked quietly.

I told her I was fine and she opened the cooler, it contained concoction rice with boiled egg. Lade spoon fed me and I collected it from her reluctantly. My aunt and Iya Itunu went outside probably to settle the bill. I couldn't finish the food, even though Lade cajoled me it felt like paper in my mouth and I drank the sachet water she brought along. My thighs felt wooden and the cotton wool stuffed inside my vagina made walking uncomfortable.

My aunt came back inside and she told me to stand up and prepare to go home. I was handed my cloth and as I removed the clinic gown, the sight of my naked body in the mirror made me ashamed and I hurriedly slipped my clothes on. An okada man was waiting when I stepped out of the room with my aunt and cousin supporting me. I was helped on the bike and my aunt sat at the back to support me. Lade would have to walk and meet us at home.

Alighting from the okada, I felt warm liquid running down my thighs and I looked down to see a thin red trickle making its way down my legs. It was dark already and I was grateful to the night for concealing my shame. My aunt led me inside and she told me to sit down. She brought out the kerosene stove and lit it. She filled a big stainless kettle with water and sat it on the stove. My head felt light on my neck and I closed my eyes trying to shut the whole world out.

I felt damaged and broken and I believed that God if he existed didn’t care about me. Unconsciously the tears began and I questioned the unfairness of life. Why me? Why did bad things always happen to me? Was I to be barraged with misery till I died? My head throbbed and the tears fell rapidly soaking my face. I heard the door open and Lade came inside, she was carrying the transparent nylon bag and she dropped it on the small stool sitting against the wall. The water boiled and my aunt poured the steaming water inside the small paint bucket we urinate in at night.

I was told to stand up and she helped me take off my clothes. She directed me to sit on the bucket and the heat flowed inside me. I was crying uncontrollably now, the pain was too much to bear. My aunt consoled me as I wriggled, my legs shaking on the floor. It was pure torture. I felt clumps of thick blood passing out from my vagina and my stomach contracted painfully.

I was sweating profusely and in the dimly lantern lit room I saw the tears in my aunt’s eyes. I was helped up from the bucket and placed inside a large round plastic bowl. A bucket of water was placed beside the bowl and Lade took out my sponge and soap and she bathed me. When she was done, she wrapped a clean ankara wrapper around my body. My aunt held out my panties lined with a thick long pad and Lade helped me to put it on. As I stepped inside it, I felt the bleeding start again.

My aunt pulled a big old sweater over my head and she gave me a baggy khaki shorts to wear. She sat me down and handed me steaming ogi in a big plastic cup, I took a spoonful and the sour taste went right to my head.

“I added osanwewe” she said taking in my distorted face. “Drink everything it will flush everything out” she said taking out the soiled bath water in a big black bucket.

Lade was cleaning the floor with a rag and she suddenly asked me “Do you hate her?”

I was astonished. Who was she talking about?

“My mother” she said reading my mind. “She was never there for you and only after your parents died did she show up. She brought you here and the next day you were taken to Alhaja’s place. Barely after a month, these bad things happened to you, first the rape and now an abortion.”

Her voice was trembling as she said this and I saw her wiping her eyes with her hands. I was moved by her tender utterance and I felt bad for making her think poorly of her mother.

Did I hate her mother? I didn't feel any animosity towards my aunt strangely. She had been supportive so far and she never for once blamed me. I believed that what happened to me was beyond her control. It wasn’t her fault so I didn’t hate her. The person I hated was Alhaji. He alone was to blame for my predicament.

“No” I smiled weakly at her, “I don’t hate your mother, she isn’t responsible for what happened to me. I have left everything to God to judge.”

I stood up painfully from my position on the bed and went to her where she stood crying. She lifted her teary face up and hugged me. My aunt came inside and saw us crying. She dropped the bucket in a corner of the room and she joined us in a group hug.

“It’s going to be okay” she said tearfully, “it’s going to be okay you will see.” And with all my heart I willed myself to believe her.

nahr:
***

Present day


I bring out my phone and switch it on. Immediately my husband’s call comes in. I pick it this time and listen to my husband’s shaky voice across the line.

“Where are you? Please tell me. You are scaring me.”

“I am not going to kill myself” I assure him. “I am just seeking closure, I want to move on.”

I switch the phone off and slide it inside my bag.
The children’s play is in full swing. Some girls are skipping ropes while some boys kick a dirty ball around. I search the children with my eyes for a familiar face but I can’t find the little boy. Suddenly the ball makes its way towards me and I move away from where I stand by the window to dodge it. The ball bounces off against the wall behind me and the children rush towards the house to retrieve their ball.

I pick up the ball and walk outside the house towards the children. I am surprised to find out that the leader of the group of boys is a girl.

“Here is your ball” I say to her smiling.

The girl collects the ball from me smiling back revealing an endearing gap in front of her teeth. “Thank you ma” she lisps and she bounces off with the boys running after her.

The sun is shining brightly and a gentle breeze serenades me. I return inside the house and bring out the plastic chair. I settle back against it and breathe in the soothing breeze deeply feeling the weight on my chest melting away slowly as I watch the children play.

*

Twelve years ago

Iya Itunu was a fat woman in her late thirties, her house located two streets away from my aunt’s. Her house was a rundown partly built structure tucked behind a church owned by her late husband. She had started her profession in a private owned hospital as a quack nurse popularly known as nurse muyiwa but as time went on, she ventured into her own private practice where she treated people and delivered babies.

She clandestinely took on abortion jobs, which was more of an open secret to everyone and her oldest daughter Itunu was her right hand man, she assisted her mother in running her illegal clinic.

As soon as I stepped inside the one room clinic that morning, my eyes took in the narrow single hospital bed in the middle of the room. A big shelf stood against the wall and on it were arranged different bottles of medications. Beside the bed was a tall stool on which sat a big pack of cotton wool and a set of medical scissors and some cruel looking metal instruments, when I thought about what they might be used for I shuddered.

Iya Itunu instructed me to shed the jeans knee length gown I wore including my underwear and she told my aunt to wait outside. I was given a green checkered armless gown to wear and in the mirror across me I saw my face ashen with fear.

When my aunt had made consultations with her earlier, I had been told that I was not to eat or drink anything before coming. I laid down on the hospital bed my sweaty back sticking to the cold leather.

She went ahead to put on blue latex gloves and tie a black leathery apron over the faded floral gown she wore. Picking up one of the monstrous looking instrument I was told to open my legs wide. Cold air rushed into my exposed inners and I involuntarily closed my legs. She impatiently prodded open my laps with both of her hands and I gritted my teeth as I felt the cold metal penetrating my vagina.

I felt a sharp pain as she suddenly dragged the instrument out and I felt something warm rush out of me. I looked down and saw thick blood flowing out of me and I saw Itunu who was standing beside her mother in an identical apron pick up a tiny rodent like creature covered in blood and slime and she put it inside a black nylon bag.

I was getting weak now and could barely raise my head up as I felt cotton wool being pushed into my vagina to stop the blood. I heard my aunt coming into the room but her voice got fainter as I slipped out of consciousness.

When I woke up, the first thing I saw was the drip attached to my hand. My aunt was sitting beside me on a plastic chair with a pensive look on her face and when she saw that my eyes were opened she stood up and walked to where I was lying.

“Pele how are you now?” she asked.

My mouth was parched and the inner of my thighs felt heavy. The room was clean once more and all the bloody instruments had been cleared. No one could enter the room and know that an abortion had taken place earlier on.

“I am very weak and thirsty ma” I answered.

My eyes found the wall clock and the short hand was on six while the long hand was on 11, it was evening already. A generator sounded noisily outside supplying electricity. A yellow bulb dangled from the ceiling and an old rusty fan swung around lazily cooling the room.

Iya Itunu came inside and she checked my eyes and asked if I could see her clearly. I answered her in the affirmative. The drip was almost empty now and my aunt assisted me to sit up. Itunu came inside holding a small plastic tray containing a bottle of malt, a tin of peak milk and a rubber cup. She poured the malt and milk inside the cup and stirred it with a stainless spoon. I was handed the cup and told to drink everything. The drink slid down my dry throat and I forced the whole content down.

I started feeling sleepy again and I was told to lie down. Before I closed my eyes I saw my aunt wipe tears from her eyes with the tip of her scarf. When I woke up again, the generator was off, power was already restored. I was alone in the room and the drip was already removed. I sat upright and stood up. My legs wobbled beneath me and I sat back against the bed. I stood up and walked slowly to the window and parted the curtain. The sky was dark already and I rested my head against the metal burglary.

I heard someone enter and turned to look at who it was. Iya Itunu called me back to the bed and I sat down.

“Bawo ni? se ara e ti bale nisiyin?” she asked me.

I nodded yes that I felt better. She informed me that my aunt had gone home to prepare what I would eat. My aunt soon returned and Lade was with her carrying a small cooler in a transparent nylon bag. My cousin sat down on the bed beside me and hugged me with tears in her eyes.

“Sorry, how are you now?” she asked quietly.

I told her I was fine and she opened the cooler, it contained concoction rice with boiled egg. Lade spoon fed me and I collected it from her reluctantly. My aunt and Iya Itunu went outside probably to settle the bill. I couldn't finish the food, even though Lade cajoled me it felt like paper in my mouth and I drank the sachet water she brought along. My thighs felt wooden and the cotton wool stuffed inside my vagina made walking uncomfortable.

My aunt came back inside and she told me to stand up and prepare to go home. I was handed my cloth and as I removed the clinic gown, the sight of my naked body in the mirror made me ashamed and I hurriedly slipped my clothes on. An okada man was waiting when I stepped out of the room with my aunt and cousin supporting me. I was helped on the bike and my aunt sat at the back to support me. Lade would have to walk and meet us at home.

Alighting from the okada, I felt warm liquid running down my thighs and I looked down to see a thin red trickle making its way down my legs. It was dark already and I was grateful to the night for concealing my shame. My aunt led me inside and she told me to sit down. She brought out the kerosene stove and lit it. She filled a big stainless kettle with water and sat it on the stove. My head felt light on my neck and I closed my eyes trying to shut the whole world out.

I felt damaged and broken and I believed that God if he existed didn’t care about me. Unconsciously the tears began and I questioned the unfairness of life. Why me? Why did bad things always happen to me? Was I to be barraged with misery till I died? My head throbbed and the tears fell rapidly soaking my face. I heard the door open and Lade came inside, she was carrying the transparent nylon bag and she dropped it on the small stool sitting against the wall. The water boiled and my aunt poured the steaming water inside the small paint bucket we urinate in at night.

I was told to stand up and she helped me take off my clothes. She directed me to sit on the bucket and the heat flowed inside me. I was crying uncontrollably now, the pain was too much to bear. My aunt consoled me as I wriggled, my legs shaking on the floor. It was pure torture. I felt clumps of thick blood passing out from my vagina and my stomach contracted painfully.

I was sweating profusely and in the dimly lantern lit room I saw the tears in my aunt’s eyes. I was helped up from the bucket and placed inside a large round plastic bowl. A bucket of water was placed beside the bowl and Lade took out my sponge and soap and she bathed me. When she was done, she wrapped a clean ankara wrapper around my body. My aunt held out my panties lined with a thick long pad and Lade helped me to put it on. As I stepped inside it, I felt the bleeding start again.

My aunt pulled a big old sweater over my head and she gave me a baggy khaki shorts to wear. She sat me down and handed me steaming ogi in a big plastic cup, I took a spoonful and the sour taste went right to my head.

“I added osanwewe” she said taking in my distorted face. “Drink everything it will flush everything out” she said taking out the soiled bath water in a big black bucket.

Lade was cleaning the floor with a rag and she suddenly asked me “Do you hate her?”

I was astonished. Who was she talking about?

“My mother” she said reading my mind. “She was never there for you and only after your parents died did she show up. She brought you here and the next day you were taken to Alhaja’s place. Barely after a month, these bad things happened to you, first the rape and now an abortion.”

Her voice was trembling as she said this and I saw her wiping her eyes with her hands. I was moved by her tender utterance and I felt bad for making her think poorly of her mother.

Did I hate her mother? I didn't feel any animosity towards my aunt strangely. She had been supportive so far and she never for once blamed me. I believed that what happened to me was beyond her control. It wasn’t her fault so I didn’t hate her. The person I hated was Alhaji. He alone was to blame for my predicament.

“No” I smiled weakly at her, “I don’t hate your mother, she isn’t responsible for what happened to me. I have left everything to God to judge.”

I stood up painfully from my position on the bed and went to her where she stood crying. She lifted her teary face up and hugged me. My aunt came inside and saw us crying. She dropped the bucket in a corner of the room and she joined us in a group hug.

“It’s going to be okay” she said tearfully, “it’s going to be okay you will see.” And with all my heart I willed myself to believe her.

Glad you're back. Still following

Angel55555:

Glad you're back. Still following

Thank you

nahr:


Thank you

Check your email more often tho;

Angel55555:

Check your email more often tho;

Okay

***

Present day


The sun is receding in the sky and the children have left for their respective houses. It is strangely quiet and I stand up from my seat and walk the perimeter of the ground the children had been playing in. I look at the house, the outer wall has darkened with time but looking closely I can see the evidence of a fire outbreak on the wall.

The roof is caved in and jagged wood protrude from what remains of it. The walls inside the house are burnt black and weeds can be seen sprouting from the cracks on the cement floor. Remnants of shattered glass from the windows scatter around on the floor.

A bird calls its mate in the distance signaling the set of evening. The sun moves from the center of the darkening sky and travels west slowly. From where I stand with my head turned towards the sky, I watch this transition from afternoon to evening. Nature has a way of calming me and I soon become one with the universe. I breathe in the cool evening air deeply.

I return back to my seat in front of the house. I bring out my phone and switch it back on. I go through my contacts and I tap on Lade’s number. She picks at the first ring and her voice rings clearly through the speaker.

“Omo!” she exclaims. “Thank God, I have been calling you since, your husband is worried, where are you?”

In the background I hear a child crying. Lade and I got married the same year and she has three children already. I hear her pacifying the crying child and the cries soon subside.

“I am at Alhaja’s house” I answer. The line goes silent and I hear her breathing.

“That’s a long distance. What are you doing there?” she asks finally.

“I want to forget everything” I answer and I surprise myself when I start crying.

I have been holding it all in since I got here and my cousin’s voice is the trigger I need to let it all out.

“Should I come and meet you?” she asks. “Don’t harm yourself please. Think about your husband, that man loves you” she continues her voice pleading.

I start smiling through my tears despite myself, “I am not going to kill myself and no please don’t come. I am fine. I will come to your place tomorrow.”

I cut the call and few minutes later my husband’s call comes in. I pick it up immediately.

“I am sorry for leaving like that this morning” I say speaking first.

“I am coming to get you” he says. “Lade already told me where you are. I am on my way.”

I sigh as he ends the call and I bring out the plastic bottle of water from my bag. With Google map my husband was sure to easily navigate from the island where we lived to the mainland. The drive should take him no more than three hours. I drink the remaining water in the plastic bottle and cover my mouth with the back of my hand stifling a yawn.

The time on my phone reads 5:30PM and I return it back inside my bag. I twist my wedding ring around my finger my thoughts on my husband. I remember how calmly he had reacted when I told him about my past the day he asked me to marry him.

He had reached out to hug me with tears in his eyes promising that I would never come to any harm again and he would protect me for as long as he breathed. Our relationship while not a fairy tale is one filled with love, mutual trust, respect and understanding. So far we had never had any major fight although we argue like normal couples do and I enjoy teasing him.

When he learnt that I had written WAEC before coming to my aunt’s place he encouraged me to take JAMB and he personally tutored me. I smile at the memory of us staying up at night to study. He would read his medical textbooks and I would pore through the past questions. When my result came out I didn’t meet the cutoff for the pharmacy course which I had chosen.

I was distraught and the enthusiasm I felt earlier on took a nose dive. My husband cheered me up and told me I didn’t have to write jamb again if I wanted. He advised me to try nursing school and after managing to convince me he bought the form for me. I started preparing harder this time around and I studied all the past questions without leaving any stone unturned. I wrote the exam and I began to wait for my results.

The day my result was released my husband came home bearing a cake and a congratulatory card. He broke the good news to me grinning, the crinkles I love forming at the corner of his eyes. He had carried me off my feet telling me how proud he was of me. These loving memories brighten my face and I pat my wedding ring tenderly.

*

My aunt died two years ago. Lade and I were her only family member and before she died she begged us to take her body back home. My husband had told me that I didn’t have to go to the village if I didn’t want to. He had insisted on accompanying me and with Lade and her husband, the four of us with my aunt’s body at the back of the black sedan car made the six hour trip to my village.

My aunt had wanted to escape the tedious village life and she left for the city when she was eighteen. Instead of the enjoyment she sought, she found herself trapped in the murky depths of the city. The first man she met when she got to the city impregnated her and Lade’s father was a drunk who abused her physically and spent all his money on women and drinks neglecting his wife and child.

One fateful day he was beating my aunt who was pregnant with her second child as usual when he slumped and died. My aunt had miscarried and lost both husband and baby the same day. She was too ashamed to return back to the village and had stayed back taking on menial jobs and raising her daughter alone. She stayed away from men and lived alone with her daughter in the one room bedroom where I had arrived that April.

I wasn’t able to recognize my parent’s house when I saw it. The odan tree was still standing and I saw my parent’s grave overgrown with weeds. The mud wall was cracked and lizards poked their heads out of the crevices. The wooden front door hanged open revealing the empty interior. I saw a mother hen and her chicks pecking around the compound.

I couldn’t see any familiar face around and some children gathered around our car staring at us curiously. Lade brought out the pack of biscuits she had bought while we were coming from her bag and distributed it amongst the children. We went to the baale, the village chief and he agreed to come with us to oversee the burial.

Village youths were called and the compound was weeded and swept. Dusk was falling when we buried my aunt beside my parents. Lade wept bitterly as she shoveled dirt over her mother’s coffin and I held her tears blinding my eyes. The house was swept and we camped there that night. The next morning I went to the baale with my husband. I left Lade and her husband to pack up and prepare for our return back to the city.

I bequeathed my parent’s house to the village and told the baale to give the house out to a family. I wanted my parent’s house to be filled with joy and love once more. We left around noon and I looked out from I sat at the dusty dirt road that lined the village, the dust trailing our car. I rested my head against the seat of the car and wept silently as we returned to the city.

These memories fill me with a longing. I suddenly want my husband to hold me and whisper in my ear that I am not alone like he always does. The sky is already darkening and the cold is setting in. I shiver slightly and wait for my husband to come and take me home.

***


Twelve years ago


I bled for a week straight, the thick long pad needed to be changed four times a day. I lied down indoors all day praying for death. I felt disgusted with my body and I hated the smell of blood that came out of me. I was given blood tonic and milk to drink and my aunt and cousin stayed with me throughout taking care of me. The blood thinned on the eight day and I was able to stand up on my own without staggering. I was left in the house with Lade and my aunt returned to her stall in the market.

So far my aunt had not mentioned whether I was going to return to Alhaja’s house or not and each time I tried to bring up the topic I stopped myself. I had told Alhaja that I would return the next day. It was now ten days since I left her house. I didn’t know what she would be thinking of me by now. Was she worried or was she angry? I hoped she wasn’t angry. She was a good woman and she had shown only kindness to me. That night when my aunt returned from her stall I asked her if I was to return to my boss’s house and when.

She asked me if I was able to face Alhaji after everything that happened. I had answered her that I could. If I could survive this past harrowing week, I should be able to face the monster responsible for it all. I had resolved to keep the incident away from my boss. As much as I hated her husband, I wouldn’t want to be the cause of the dissolution of their marriage. My boss loved her husband too much and she didn’t hesitate to make it known to everyone. She was always at his beck and call and she did everything to please him.

When I started living with them, I admired their teenage-like romance and I even slightly envied them. To me they were the picture perfect couple until Alhaji unleashed the monster in him. My aunt told me I could return on Monday today being Friday I had two days to prepare myself. At night in the darkness of the room the tears started again and I wept silently into the crook of my elbow for a very long time.


*


That Sunday morning I woke up with a premonition that unsettled me. The night before I dreamt about my dead parents. The two of them sat in front of our house in the village on a long narrow wooden bench under the tree. I was happy to see them and as I ran to meet them, my parents raised up their head sadly and I saw the tears in their eyes. In their hands was a dead baby wrapped in a white shawl. The baby was bloody and its face was grotesque yet it appeared peaceful. “Omolara why? Why did you do this?” they both asked and suddenly our house burst into flame behind them and they stood up walking towards the burning house with the baby in their hands not turning back to look at me.


I had woken up screaming rousing my aunt and cousin who rushed to my side asking me what was wrong.

“I-I-I saw my parents” I stuttered. “They are not happy with me” I said bursting out in tears.

“It’s okay, it’s what you were thinking about before you slept there is nothing” my aunt reassured me.

I went back to sleep and woke up to see the sun streaming inside from the gap in the faded red curtain on the window. My aunt and cousin had already gone to church, they did not bother to wake me and I was grateful. The bleeding had finally stopped and I felt lighter and energetic.

My strength returned and the heaviness in my head finally subsided. I reached for my sponge and soap inside a small plastic bowl and I wrapped the ankara wrapper I used as a towel on my body. I looked in the mirror and took in my sight. My oval eyes were bloodshot from sleep and the shuku on my head was rough. My dark small face was ashy and dull and my clavicles stood out prominently against my chest. My lips were dry and my face had a somber look to it. I looked at my reflection for a while and I turned away from the mirror. I couldn’t bear to look at myself any longer.

I took a bucket from where it sat in a corner in the room and retied my wrapper on my ample chest. I filled the bucket from the big black drum behind the door with a small plastic bowl. Reaching for the spare key on the small stool I stepped outside the room and proceeded to the bathroom beside the latrine in the compound. Luckily for me everybody in the house had gone to church and I didn’t meet a line outside.

The bathroom was a makeshift aluminium sheet structure without a roof. It was situated in a corner behind the house. I bathed slowly enjoying the feel of the breeze on my wet skin. The sun shined brightly and the sky was bright blue with no cloud in sight.

The rare silence of the compound was comforting and I felt my mood lightening. I whistle a meaningless tune scrubbing my body thoroughly with my local sponge and kogi soap. I wanted to feel pure again. I scrub under my breasts, my armpits, the middle of my buttock, my inner thighs and in-between my toes. I rinsed my body till I felt all the soap gone.

I pulled aside the tattered curtain which served as the bathroom door and went back inside the room. Thankfully there was no one in sight. I rubbed my body briskly with my wrapper and reached for the big Vaseline jar on the stool. I rubbed the sweet smelling petroleum jelly on my skin till it shone. I took the talcum powder beside the cream and dusted my armpits with it. I smelled nicely and this brought a smile to my face. I was tired of smelling like raw meat.

On the floor was a pot and I opened it to see rice and beans cooked with palmoil and crayfish. I filled a cup with water and I took my brush from the old stainless cup which we used as a holder. The toothpaste was empty and I cut it open with a knife. I used my brush to scoop out the residue and I put on a knee length jeans skirt and a red top with I love NY written on the chest. My aunt had gotten it for me from the woman who sold okrika in front of the compound. The cloying perfume of the cloth still smelled even after I washed it.

I opened the door and proceeded towards the gutter in front of the house to brush my teeth. The badly dug gutter swam with black putrid water, plastic bottles and nylon floating on it. Houseflies buzzed around their loud hum irritating my ears. I brushed my teeth hurriedly the strong smell wafting from the gutter forcing me to hold my breath. I spat out the minty toothpaste and gargled with water from the cup. I rinsed my mouth with the remaining water in the cup and poured the remaining water on the ground. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and went back inside.

I dished out the rice and beans inside a flat stainless plate and moved to the couch to eat my food. I was taking my last spoonful when I heard the loud voice of my aunt calling my name. I dropped the plate on the floor and made to open the door but the door flew open before I reached it.

This is a dope classic you're dealing us, OP. Bring it on, please!

Salahdin:
This is a dope classic you're dealing us, OP. Bring it on, please!

Thank you! I will be sure to mention you in my next update.

nahr:

*

My aunt died two years ago. Lade and I were her only family member and before she died she begged us to take her body back home. My husband had told me that I didn’t have to go to the village if I didn’t want to. He had insisted on accompanying me and with Lade and her husband, the four of us with my aunt’s body at the back of the black sedan car made the six hour trip to my village.

My aunt had wanted to escape the tedious village life and she left for the city when she was eighteen. Instead of the enjoyment she sought, she found herself trapped in the murky depths of the city. The first man she met when she got to the city impregnated her and Lade’s father was a drunk who abused her physically and spent all his money on women and drinks neglecting his wife and child.

One fateful day he was beating my aunt who was pregnant with her second child as usual when he slumped and died. My aunt had miscarried and lost both husband and baby the same day. She was too ashamed to return back to the village and had stayed back taking on menial jobs and raising her daughter alone. She stayed away from men and lived alone with her daughter in the one room bedroom where I had arrived that April.

I wasn’t able to recognize my parent’s house when I saw it. The odan tree was still standing and I saw my parent’s grave overgrown with weeds. The mud wall was cracked and lizards poked their heads out of the crevices. The wooden front door hanged open revealing the empty interior. I saw a mother hen and her chicks pecking around the compound.

I couldn’t see any familiar face around and some children gathered around our car staring at us curiously. Lade brought out the pack of biscuits she had bought while we were coming from her bag and distributed it amongst the children. We went to the baale, the village chief and he agreed to come with us to oversee the burial.

Village youths were called and the compound was weeded and swept. Dusk was falling when we buried my aunt beside my parents. Lade wept bitterly as she shoveled dirt over her mother’s coffin and I held her tears blinding my eyes. The house was swept and we camped there that night. The next morning I went to the baale with my husband. I left Lade and her husband to pack up and prepare for our return back to the city.

I bequeathed my parent’s house to the village and told the baale to give the house out to a family. I wanted my parent’s house to be filled with joy and love once more. We left around noon and I looked out from I sat at the dusty dirt road that lined the village, the dust trailing our car. I rested my head against the seat of the car and wept silently as we returned to the city.

These memories fill me with a longing. I suddenly want my husband to hold me and whisper in my ear that I am not alone like he always does. The sky is already darkening and the cold is setting in. I shiver slightly and wait for my husband to come and take me home.

***


Twelve years ago


I bled for a week straight, the thick long pad needed to be changed four times a day. I lied down indoors all day praying for death. I felt disgusted with my body and I hated the smell of blood that came out of me. I was given blood tonic and milk to drink and my aunt and cousin stayed with me throughout taking care of me. The blood thinned on the eight day and I was able to stand up on my own without staggering. I was left in the house with Lade and my aunt returned to her stall in the market.

So far my aunt had not mentioned whether I was going to return to Alhaja’s house or not and each time I tried to bring up the topic I stopped myself. I had told Alhaja that I would return the next day. It was now ten days since I left her house. I didn’t know what she would be thinking of me by now. Was she worried or was she angry? I hoped she wasn’t angry. She was a good woman and she had shown only kindness to me. That night when my aunt returned from her stall I asked her if I was to return to my boss’s house and when.

She asked me if I was able to face Alhaji after everything that happened. I had answered her that I could. If I could survive this past harrowing week, I should be able to face the monster responsible for it all. I had resolved to keep the incident away from my boss. As much as I hated her husband, I wouldn’t want to be the cause of the dissolution of their marriage. My boss loved her husband too much and she didn’t hesitate to make it known to everyone. She was always at his beck and call and she did everything to please him.

When I started living with them, I admired their teenage-like romance and I even slightly envied them. To me they were the picture perfect couple until Alhaji unleashed the monster in him. My aunt told me I could return on Monday today being Friday I had two days to prepare myself. At night in the darkness of the room the tears started again and I wept silently into the crook of my elbow for a very long time.


*


That Sunday morning I woke up with a premonition that unsettled me. The night before I dreamt about my dead parents. The two of them sat in front of our house in the village on a long narrow wooden bench under the tree. I was happy to see them and as I ran to meet them, my parents raised up their head sadly and I saw the tears in their eyes. In their hands was a dead baby wrapped in a white shawl. The baby was bloody and its face was grotesque yet it appeared peaceful. “Omolara why? Why did you do this?” they both asked and suddenly our house burst into flame behind them and they stood up walking towards the burning house with the baby in their hands not turning back to look at me.


I had woken up screaming rousing my aunt and cousin who rushed to my side asking me what was wrong.

“I-I-I saw my parents” I stuttered. “They are not happy with me” I said bursting out in tears.

“It’s okay, it’s what you were thinking about before you slept there is nothing” my aunt reassured me.

I went back to sleep and woke up to see the sun streaming inside from the gap in the faded red curtain on the window. My aunt and cousin had already gone to church, they did not bother to wake me and I was grateful. The bleeding had finally stopped and I felt lighter and energetic.

My strength returned and the heaviness in my head finally subsided. I reached for my sponge and soap inside a small plastic bowl and I wrapped the ankara wrapper I used as a towel on my body. I looked in the mirror and took in my sight. My oval eyes were bloodshot from sleep and the shuku on my head was rough. My dark small face was ashy and dull and my clavicles stood out prominently against my chest. My lips were dry and my face had a somber look to it. I looked at my reflection for a while and I turned away from the mirror. I couldn’t bear to look at myself any longer.

I took a bucket from where it sat in a corner in the room and retied my wrapper on my ample chest. I filled the bucket from the big black drum behind the door with a small plastic bowl. Reaching for the spare key on the small stool I stepped outside the room and proceeded to the bathroom beside the latrine in the compound. Luckily for me everybody in the house had gone to church and I didn’t meet a line outside.

The bathroom was a makeshift aluminium sheet structure without a roof. It was situated in a corner behind the house. I bathed slowly enjoying the feel of the breeze on my wet skin. The sun shined brightly and the sky was bright blue with no cloud in sight.

The rare silence of the compound was comforting and I felt my mood lightening. I whistle a meaningless tune scrubbing my body thoroughly with my local sponge and kogi soap. I wanted to feel pure again. I scrub under my breasts, my armpits, the middle of my buttock, my inner thighs and in-between my toes. I rinsed my body till I felt all the soap gone.

I pulled aside the tattered curtain which served as the bathroom door and went back inside the room. Thankfully there was no one in sight. I rubbed my body briskly with my wrapper and reached for the big Vaseline jar on the stool. I rubbed the sweet smelling petroleum jelly on my skin till it shone. I took the talcum powder beside the cream and dusted my armpits with it. I smelled nicely and this brought a smile to my face. I was tired of smelling like raw meat.

On the floor was a pot and I opened it to see rice and beans cooked with palmoil and crayfish. I filled a cup with water and I took my brush from the old stainless cup which we used as a holder. The toothpaste was empty and I cut it open with a knife. I used my brush to scoop out the residue and I put on a knee length jeans skirt and a red top with I love NY written on the chest. My aunt had gotten it for me from the woman who sold okrika in front of the compound. The cloying perfume of the cloth still smelled even after I washed it.

I opened the door and proceeded towards the gutter in front of the house to brush my teeth. The badly dug gutter swam with black putrid water, plastic bottles and nylon floating on it. Houseflies buzzed around their loud hum irritating my ears. I brushed my teeth hurriedly the strong smell wafting from the gutter forcing me to hold my breath. I spat out the minty toothpaste and gargled with water from the cup. I rinsed my mouth with the remaining water in the cup and poured the remaining water on the ground. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and went back inside.

I dished out the rice and beans inside a flat stainless plate and moved to the couch to eat my food. I was taking my last spoonful when I heard the loud voice of my aunt calling my name. I dropped the plate on the floor and made to open the door but the door flew open before I reached it.

HI everyone, I actually omitted a part of the story when I updated earlier on. I just noticed this and I have modified it already by including the missing part. Thanks for following my story!

@Salahdin

*

"Have you heard what happened?” she asked me coming inside with Lade in tow. I looked at her harried face nonplussed. What could have happened? I wondered. My aunt pulled off the pink and purple adire iro and buba she wore and yanked off her black damask gele. I looked at Lade willing her to explain her mother’s agitated state but she turned her eyes away and made to pull of her white and black sunday gown.

My aunt didn’t wait for me to answer before she dropped the bombshell...

“Alhaja’s house caught fire yesterday and she and her husband died inside the fire”

My mouth went dry and my heart stopped in my chest. How was this even possible? Alhaja wasn’t the careless type, the wiring in her house was in good condition and she never used candles or lantern. I sank into the floor the weight of the news pushing me down too heavy for me to comprehend

“What time did they say it happened?” I asked my aunt in a low voice. My aunt was now tying an old wrapper across her chest and she sat down on the mattress and I felt a sudden urge to urinate.

“They said around 11’o clock yesterday night. According to what the neighbors said, they heard a loud explosion and the roof of the house went up in flames. I thank my God that you have not gone back o, what will I be saying now ehn” my aunt said as she clasped her hands across her chest.

The image of Alhaja’s fair and beautiful face came to my mind and I couldn’t imagine that face dead. Had she roasted painfully or did the explosion kill her instantly? I only wished it were the latter. As for Alhaji he deserved the most gruesome death in this world, if only he was the only one in the house when the explosion went off, if only his lovely wife had been spared.

“People are talking, they said it was Alhaja that opened the gas down to leak and she waited for her husband to fall asleep before she lit the matches burning the house down on her and her husband” my aunt said still looking shocked.

“But how did they know?” I asked.

My aunt went on “the gateman told the neighbors that few minutes after ten Alhaja called him inside the house. On entering the sitting room he smelled something funny but the condition he found Alhaja in couldn’t make him say anything. He met her in pains on the floor holding her stomach crying. She told him that her ulcer medicine had finished that she forgot to buy. He suggested that they should wake her husband so that he could take her to the hospital but she refused o, she said that she didn’t want to disturb him. She instead sent him to get her the drugs from a far pharmacy at that time of the night.”

My aunt gazed at the floor as she recounted the gateman’s speech her hands still folded across her chest. She paused for a while and continued.

“He said that on getting to the pharmacy he met it locked and he tried several other ones around but they were locked too. After walking around, he decided to go back home to tell her that they should wake her husband and go to the hospital. He had almost reached the house when all of a sudden he heard gboaa. He saw fire and black smoke coming out of the roof as he stood in a spot. He was so shocked that the torchlight he was holding fell from his hand. People came out of their houses to see what was going on and everybody started shouting.”

My aunt went on to tell me how the neighbors had called the fire department and how it took them up to thirty minutes before they got to the house. Nobody could go inside the blazing house to check if the couples were still alive and they all crowded helplessly in front of the house watching the fire lick up the house.

When the fire trucks eventually arrived, they managed to contain the fire and put out the flames. It was around midnight when the fire finally died down and the emergency workers had broken the front door open to search for the couples. The men had seen the charred bodies of the couple on what remained of their bed. It was said that their burnt body had been entwined in what seemed like an embrace. The eyewitnesses who saw the remains of the couple as it was being carried out had screamed in agony. What was remaining of the once lovely couple was now burnt skins and bones.

The gateman said that he heard the couple fighting earlier that morning and he had heard Alhaja shouting at her husband after discovering that he had given birth to four children with another woman outside their marriage. She also learnt that he had willed the house and all his properties to the mother of his children.

“Why did she do it ehn?” my aunt asked no one in particular sadly. “She had her own money. It is not like she was poor o. She should have left him alone and lived her life in peace. Now she has committed both suicide and murder two sins that God hate most”

I wanted to ask her if God didn’t hate rape and abortion too but decided to keep quiet. When the fire started had Alhaja been calm? Had she craved death so badly that the thought of burning to death did nothing to scare her? Were her pleasantries all a facade? The smiles and gentle speeches all a pretense, a false armor she put on to contain the pain she felt at being childless.

The image of her sipping tea in the parlor the last time I saw her when I left her house that morning is still fresh in my mind. I could still see the slight dimple forming in her cheek as she smiled at me when I said goodbye. Had she been planning it all along? When did she know? Was it immediately she got back from her trip? I prayed that she find peace in death and I cursed Alhaji and hoped that he burned again in hell. He had scarred me for life and he was the reason that my boss killed herself.

I was still sitting down with tears in my eyes when my aunt stood up and dropped another bombshell. “Stand up and start packing your clothes we are leaving this room today. It is time for a new beginning”.

Lade and I arranged all our cooking utensils inside a big plastic bowl. We then folded our clothes inside the big Ghana must go bag my aunt had bought for the occasion. There wasn’t much to pack as my aunt’s possessions were not many. We took down the old curtain from the single window in the room and removed the light bulb from the sagging ceiling.

My aunt went outside to look for a cab to convey us to our new place and Lade and I carried our loads outside on the corridor and swept the cement floor of the room for the last time.

The pregnant neighbor had given birth five days ago and her baby cried shrilly as I heard her singing trying to pacify him. She came outside with the baby on her back and was surprised to see our loads outside.

“Ahn ahn you don dey park go and you no fit tell me, I offend you?” she asked jocularly.

Lade answered smiling “ah no be so o, I wan come tell you but I no wan disturb you as your pikin dey cry”

“Okay o bye bye safe journey una don tey for here, una try” she said going back inside to put the already sleeping baby down.

My aunt soon returned with a taxi and she instructed Lade and I to put our loads in the boot. Some neighbors came outside to say their goodbyes including the woman her loud voice drowning others.

In the taxi my aunt explained to us that she had gotten the place last month after our former room’s rent expired. She got to know about the new place from a customer who told her that he was vacating his room and if she knew anyone in search of a room.

She had gone to check the room and found out that it was located in a small quiet compound with only four rooms in the house including the landlord an old man who was a retired teacher and a widower.

She had initially planned to tell us this night and eventually pack out on Wednesday but Alhaja’s tragic death had touched her and prompted her to act impulsively.

We got to the new place and I was relieved when I didn’t see a gutter in front of the house. The compound was smaller than our previous place and our room was smaller too but the atmosphere was saturated with clean air and I breathed it in deeply gratefully.

*deleted* I made an error and updated twice. The story is almost reaching its end. @ghost readers, thank you for following!

Thanks for the mention, OP. The story has been such an interesting read so far. I can't wait to finally see how the end unflolds.

Salahdin:
Thanks for the mention, OP. The story has been such an interesting read so far. I can't wait to finally see how the end unflolds.

You are welcome, thanks for following!

*

The following week after we got to our new place, my aunt called I and Lade and asked us what we wanted to do. The other day I had seen a poster on the street announcing for the position of a salesgirl in a pharmacy and I told my aunt I was interested. Lade said she wanted to learn hairdressing, my aunt asked us about school if we had any plans on furthering. While I had my school leaving result which I sat for the year before my parents died, my cousin had stopped school at JSS3. At seventeen it wasn’t too late for her to go back but she insisted on the hairdressing job and her mother gave us her blessings.

The pharmacy store was a big shop located in a sprawling shopping complex. I ironed my black skirt and pink short sleeve shirt carefully with the stove iron that morning I went to ask for the job. I cleaned my leather sandals with soap and water and combed my hair neatly in a ponytail and caught it with a rubber band in the middle of my head. I applied water and cream to make my hair glossy and I even used Lade’s lip gloss.When I was dressed I looked at my smart reflection in the mirror smiling faintly. My aunt and cousin wished me well and I trekked the distance to the complex.

I was intimidated when I entered the cool pharmacy and I saw a portly dark woman behind the counter reading a newspaper. She raised her head from the paper when she sensed my presence and closed it. On the front page I saw the headline: POLICE SAY THAT WIFE ALLEGEDLY RESPONSIBLE FOR EXPLOSION KILLING HER AND HER HUSBAND. Newspapers were still carrying the news of the explosion at the Alhaja’s house.

“Yes” the woman said looking at me scanning me from head to toe. “How can I help you?”

“I came to apply for the post of the sales girl ma” I answered.

“Okay” she said. “Can you read and write properly” she asked me and I answered yes.

She brought out some drugs from the shelf and told me to read the names on their package to her. I read it to her and she nodded her head.

“What academic qualification do you have?” She asked me. I told her that I had my O levels and she nodded again.

“I don’t like lazy girls, I hope you can work very well.” She said.

“Yes ma I can work very well ma, I won’t disappoint you” I said eagerly.

“That’s what all of you say, the last girl I had she ran away with my money. I hope you won’t do the same” she asked.

“No I won’t ma. I am not like that” I replied.

“Okay, what is your name?” she asked. “Omolara ma” I answered.

“Omolara what?” she asked when I didn’t mention my surname.

“Omolara Ifatide ma” I answered her wondering if my interview was going well.

“How old are you?” she asked.

“Seventeen years old ma” I answered hoping my English sounded nice to her. She spoke with a nasal intonation like the people in the TV shows Alhaja had loved watching.

“Okay, today is Friday you can resume on Monday” she said and that was I started working for Miss Agnes Okoro the owner of Livewell pharmacy.

I would wake up as early as 5 o’ clock every day to do the housechores with Lade who had by then resumed learning hairdressing. I made sure to leave home around 7 in the morning and I got to the pharmacy before 8 when the pharmacy opened. I worked from Monday till Saturday and I enjoyed working for my boss.

Different people came to the store and I learnt a lot within just two weeks of working there. I could read prescriptions and I even liked the medical smell that was always present in the room. I learnt that Miss Agnes had been living in London before coming back to Nigeria to start her business. Her husband had divorced her to marry a white woman. She was efficient and she handled her store well. Although she was a stern woman, she never raised her voice at me and when I got confused with something she took her time to explain to me.

*

I had been working for Miss Agnes for up to three years when I met my husband. It was raining heavily that afternoon and I was the only one in the store that day, my boss had come down with fever and she had taken the afternoon off to go to the hospital. She trusted me enough to hand over the day’s business with me and told me to call her on the small Nokia phone she gave me if at any point I couldn’t understand a prescription or got confused.

I was reading a health magazine when a tall fair man entered the store. He smiled sheepishly at me apologizing with his eyes when I looked down at the trail of water that his wet clothes left on the floor.

“I am sorry” he said his voice a soft mellow barely audible above the loud noise of the pouring rain.

“It’s fine, what do you want to buy?” I asked.

“Do you have gold circle?” he asked me and I saw him blushing.

“Yes we have, would you like anything else” I asked him putting on my professional voice which I had learnt from Miss Agnes.

I wondered what would make a man brave this heavy rain to buy condoms. It was not any of my business but I found it ridiculous. I stood up from where I sat behind the counter and walked to where the packs of condoms were stacked.

“It’s not for me” he offered in explanation as if I cared.

“It’s my friend’s birthday today and he personally asked me for a box of condoms as his gift. I forgot to buy it earlier and his party is tonight, I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“Okay” I said in reply.

I put the box inside a white nylon with the pharmacy’s name printed on it and typed out his receipt. He brought out his wallet to pay and I noticed he had long slender fingers the nails clipped short. He wasn’t wearing any ring but that didn’t explain anything.

“Do you own this place?” he asked me as I handed his purchase to him.

“No my boss is not around” I answered.

“So you work here? Do you live around?” he asked.

“No” I replied returning behind the counter. Why was he asking me these questions?

“Okay, um can I have your number?” he asked shuffling his feet uncomfortably.

I looked at his face. He was good looking with a clean shaven head. His striped blue shirt though wet looked new and his dark blue jeans looked hardly worn. He looked like someone who had money.

“I am sorry sir, I can’t give you” I said drawing the line between customer and seller. The rain continued pouring outside and I felt slightly cold in the short sleeve green top I wore.

“Okay, but can I give you mine, you can write it down” he persisted.

“That is not necessary sir, I don’t have a phone.” I said. This particular customer was taking too long and I was getting uncomfortable with his many requests already.

“I am not sir you can call me Efe” he said smiling. “What is your name?” he asked me.

“Lara” I answered wishing that he left already.

“Lara? As in Omolara?” He asked moving closer to where I sat behind the counter. “That was my mother’s name, it’s such a beautiful name.”

“Yes it is” I replied, my eyes on the magazine a clear sign that I was not interested.

“Hey” he said softly “I get it, maybe I am annoying you but please I will like to know you. When will you close from work?”

“Seven o’clock” I answered hoping he would leave if I answered his question.

“Okay I will drop by before heading to my friend’s party and I hope to get a chance to get to know you better. I live close by so you can’t escape me as long as you work here.” he said smiling broadly revealing straight white teeth.

I watched him as he walked outside the sliding glass door and from where I sat I saw him enter a red Toyota Camry car parked by the street in front of the shopping complex. The rest of the day went on uneventfully and I found myself looking at the wall clock from time to time. I hoped he forgot and went ahead to his friend’s party. I wondered what kind of man kept friends who asked for condoms on their birthday.

My boss arrived around five and I handed all the day’s sales to her. She was satisfied with the records and I felt it unnecessary to tell her about the man who came to buy condoms during a heavy rainfall. When it was quarter to seven my boss calculated all the day’s sale and locked the invoice and money in an iron safe at the back of the store.

As we locked the store, I expected him to appear as promised but I saw no sign of him or his red car. I bid my boss goodbye and I brought out a thick black scarf out of my shoulder bag and wrapped it around my shoulders, the rain had since stopped but the evening breeze was cold.

I was about to cross the street in front of the complex when I heard my name. I looked towards the direction of the voice and I saw him walk towards me. He was dressed in black corduroy trousers and dark purple long sleeve turtle neck sweater. He wore black loafers and as he moved closer to me I noticed he walked with a slight limp.

I wrapped the scarf tightly around me and looked into his face. I felt like a child in front of him not only did he tower above my petite frame but he looked elegant compared to my somewhat shabby appearance in the well-worn green top and black skirt I wore. I shuffled uncomfortably aware of the rubber sandals I wore.

“I told you I was going to come” he said smiling. His eyes when I looked into it were a deep chocolate, he looked harmless and his childlike aura was charming.

“Aren’t you going to be late for your party?” I asked.

“Oh no no” he said. “The fun doesn’t start until late in the night.”

I wondered at what he meant by that but didn’t say anything.

“My car is parked down there” he pointed down the road and sure enough the red car was there.

He said he had wanted to catch me unawares without giving me the chance to plot an escape. He chuckled merrily and I smiled at him, it was hard not to. He seemed delighted when he noticed I had made an attempt at being friendly with him.

“So do you live around here?” he asked.

“No my house is quite far” I answered.

I looked at the thin leather wristwatch I had bought with my salary on my wrist, it was quarter past seven already. He saw me looking at my wristwatch and asked to drop me off at home. I politely declined and told him I would rather walk home.

“Okay” he replied looking boyishly disappointed. “Will you promise that I will see you again?” he asked.

“Of course, you know where I work. I am not planning to resign because of you” I answered smiling and he grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Okay I will take you by your word” he said. “See you around then, goodnight” he said with a wink and walked towards his car.

I turned my back and started walking home when he suddenly turned around and shouted “Dream about me this night Omolara! I am sure I will dream about you too!”

I was embarrassed as passersby turned to look at me with knowing smiles on their faces. I hastened my steps and I walked home that night with a strange light feeling bubbling in my chest, I found myself smiling unconsciously and Lade commented on my good mood that night as I laughed hard at her jokes and stories from her boss’s hairdressing saloon.

*

Efe became a regular figure in the pharmacy and he would pop in frequently to buy vitamin C just to see him. My boss suspected his visits but she didn’t say anything and Efe tried his best to charm her but he wasn’t successful. I found myself thinking about him constantly and I smiled more every day.

I found out that he was in his final year as a medical student and after asking severally I agreed to be his girlfriend. He was twenty seven then and I was twenty but I didn’t mind the age gap. Efe swept me off my feet with his affection and I couldn’t help but return it. He soon wormed his way into my family and he didn’t try hard to win my aunt and cousin to his side. I got to know that his mother died when he was three years old and his father a mathematics professor had refused to remarry and raised him singly dedicating his time and love to his son and teaching.

When I met his father for the first time that afternoon, I sat in their airy sitting room tensely wondering what the man might think of me. The grey haired short man that came out to meet me was a contrast to his bubbly son. He had a kind face and he smiled pleasantly on seeing me. He stopped me when I made to kneel down to greet him.

“How are you my dear?” he asked sitting down on a couch opposite me and his son.

“I am fine sir” I answered shyly. He asked me my name and when I told him his smile deepened.

“That was my wife’s name, may her soul continue to rest in peace” he said sadness crossing his face briefly.

“I told you so dad, I didn’t make it up.” his son said beaming.

“You are welcome my dear feel free, the house is also yours now.” he said smiling at me and his son. He stood up and informed us that he was going to see a friend down the street.

Efe and I were left alone in the house and he brought out his family album and showed me his baby pictures. His mum was a tall beautiful fair skinned woman and their resemblance was uncanny. I saw many pictures of her carrying him when he was a chubby toddler. In one picture I saw him and his parents on his second birthday, he was covered in icing in the picture and his chubby fist grabbed a pack of biscuits.

After looking at the pictures with me teasing him endlessly, the cook brought us food. She was around my aunt’s age and she looked at the sight of us laughing with a tender motherly look on her face.
I thanked her and ate the delicious fried rice and chicken with relish.

After clearing the dishes, Efe and I went to his room. He kissed me and was pulling off my cloth when Alhaji’s face flashed in front of my eyes and I broke the kiss stepping away from him. He asked me what was wrong and I said I was not ready. He gently reassured me that it was okay with him and we sat down on his bed with him telling me funny stories from his childhood. Soon enough I was cackling with laughter and Alhaji’s face melted away from my mind.

After dating for two years, Efe proposed marriage to me and I accepted. I resigned from Livewell Pharmacy and Miss Agnes was sorry to see me leave. I had been working for her for five years and in all those years I had worked hard and managed the sales expertly. I was surprised when on my wedding day she presented me with a brown envelope of fifty thousand naira as a gift.

My wedding was not elaborate. Efe and I only invited a small number of close friends and family members. We went to the registry and church in the morning, later in the day we hosted a private reception in his father’s house. On our wedding night I had to fake enjoying sex with my husband even though it was painful. I didn’t want to upset him and I also wanted to start my new life as a married woman without any baggage from my past dragging me down.

I gave my aunt half of my savings which I had saved over the years and she and Lade got a new two bedroom apartment with kitchen and toilet. Lade already had her own hairdressing shop and she was doing well personally. Our standard of living improved drastically and we were all grateful. My aunt got a store not far from their new apartment and she sold provisions and foodstuffs. Lade met a young university lecturer and six months after my wedding she got married to him. My aunt was happy and her sons-in-law took great care of her.


***

Present day


It is getting dark already and I stand up from my seat. The house opposite me has its street lamp on and light floods the whole front yard where the children had been playing. I feel a calmness descend over me as the evening breeze wash over me. I stand up and pick up my raincoat from where I had hung it on the window sill to dry.

My stomach rumbles, the boiled groundnuts I ate this morning is the only food I have eaten today. I place my bag over my shoulder and I carry the chair back inside. In the semidarkness of the house I hear something moving. I look in the direction of the sound and see the black and white cat curled up in a corner. I move closer to it and crouch to stroke it. I expect the cat to scurry away but it sits still and I move my hand across its soft fur gently.
Seeing life in this place is an indication that life will continue to thrive even in the harshest conditions.

I stand up and leave the house with my raincoat slung across my shoulder. I bring out my phone from my bag and switch it back on. I call my husband and he informs me that he is parked down the street.

My husband is the one who helped me secure a job in the government hospital I work at presently immediately after I graduated. Our marriage has been hitch free for years until I started having recurring nightmares at night. I was back at the Alhaji’s house and I would see their burnt bodies entwined in an embrace clutching a bloody dead baby. The couple would chase me as I ran trying to escape them but the more I ran the faster they got. Sometimes I would see bloody babies crying and calling out to me, the babies would cling to my legs and begin to drag me down with them and I would wake up screaming.

When it persisted Efe suggested the therapist and she was the one who told me I had to forgive myself, seek closure and forget about the past. She encouraged me to go back to where it all happened.

I walk away from the house and glance at it one last time. The night breeze walks with me and I smile as I reach the street and spot my husband’s car parked in the distance. I check the phone in my hand and the time says 8:05 PM. My husband sees me and steps out of the car and walks towards me. I run towards him and he catches me in his arms.

“I was so worried” he exclaims kissing my forehead.

“I am sorry” I say stepping back from his embrace. “I just didn’t want you to follow me.”

“Did you eat?” he asks and I answer no. “I got you dinner, It’s inside the car”.

“Thank you” I say and I hug his side as we walk towards his car. My husband is quiet beside me probably thinking about what to say next without being offensive. I look up from his side at him and he looks down at me smiling.

“You look really peaceful” he finally says. I smile at him and he reaches to open the car. Settling against my seat I turn to my husband and drag him in for a kiss, he looks surprised but returns my kiss.

“I am sorry” I say against his mouth and he pulls back smiling. “Sorry why?” he asks.

“For everything” I reply.

“You don’t have to be my love” he says holding my hands.

‘Let us have a baby, I am putting the past behind me for good” I tell him. “We can try for one and we can adopt, I want us to build a home together”

My husband smiles broadly genuinely pleased. I had told him earlier in our relationship that I didn’t want to have a child and he had agreed, telling me as long as he had me it was enough for him.

“What changed your mind?” he asks me starting the ignition.

“I made that decision from a place of fear and anger” I answer, “I didn’t want my child to experience the kind of life I had lived. I thought that I was protecting my unborn children from the world but it doesn’t make sense anymore. You are a good man and you will make a great father.” I say smiling at him with tears in my eyes.

“You will make a great mother too my love” he says grabbing my left hand and placing it on his thigh as he drove. I lean my head against the car seat feeling at peace with myself. The rain is drizzling again and I watch the wiper darting left right the repetitive motion lulling me to sleep. My eyes struggle to stay open as I hear my husband beside me whistling a happy tune as we drive home.


THE END

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