That was the joy she derived from working with women. The opportunity to guide and understand the extended reasons behind their problems. She had learned that no matter the level of civilization a large number of the women who attended clinics were anxious about the mental and spiritual implications of having babies.
She remembered one particular patient, Tosin. She did not want her baby and had attempted to suffocate the infant one silent night in the ward. The urgent tapping of her guides had saved the child as she rushed to the ward to bring the child from under the heavy breasts of Tosin who had pretended to be fast asleep.
The nurse who had allowed Tosin to sleep with the baby had been placed on suspension. Tosin had contracted her womb for a rich woman but at the last minute her fiancé had turned up. In panic Tosin went to another town intending to quietly have the baby and collect her money, but the rich madam changed her mind when she learnt it was a girl, not a boy. Tosin, unable to carry out her original plan, decided on murdering the infant with a feigned accidental cot death. The complete story came out from a tearful and remorseful Tosin who begged and pleaded when law enforcement got wind of what was going on. It was the first time Ife came across such a situation and she was sad for a while.
She didn’t know why she was recollecting the incident as she made her way to the flat.
Tinu, distraught and in tears, was waiting for her to arrive. Ife was alarmed. “What is it? Who is ill back home?”
“I want to die,” Tinu blurted, and dissolved into a fresh bout of tears.
“Sure, you can do that later after I have heard the details,” Ife said.
“He is getting married.”
Ife was mystified. “Who is getting married?”
“All these years he has been thinking of her and had been waiting for her to agree to be his wife. She has a squint, dresses awful, and can’t even cook but he asked me to be her friend and that he wants me to receive her. Oh Ife, I wish I died yesterday.”
“It is still not too late to get it over with. Who in heaven’s name are you mumbling about?”
Tinu turned angry eyes on Ife. “What was that awful speech you made about honesty and work fingers? He has been working extra hard not because of me, you wretch, but because he wants money to pay for Toriola and I should have been gone by now.”
Ife walked to her washbasin, got some water and splashed it on Tinu. Most of the water went in her mouth and made her cough, effectively stopping her hysterical tirade. Ife pulled her on the couch and rocked her until the fit of wild sobbing died down to the occasional hiccup. She finally went quiet and Ife gave her a glass of water.
In a firm voice Ife asked Tinu again what was going on. Adejare had come to see Tinu who had in some excitement assumed he was coming to declare his love for her but was stunned to learn that Adejare had proposed to Toriola. He had innocently asked Tinu to befriend his chosen bride.
“Who ever heard of a squint-eyed queen? It is a perfect disgrace. She must have ensnared him somehow.” Tinu wailed.
Ife chuckled then laughed as Tinu got angrier.
“Incidentally, Tinu, were you really thinking he was going to marry you? Wake up, you are out of his reach.”
“He is a prince you know and he just might be announced as the next king. I think so anyway. That is why he is thinking of marriage.”
“Is the result out? Has he being chosen? The kingmakers chose him?”
Tinu impatiently said, “The Oracle gave a condition—the true princes of the people had to solve a riddle posed and they could not. While the riddle remains unresolved the Lion has named Adejare as the next potential king, if Ifa permits.”
“When?”
“At the town meeting this morning. The village has been celebrating Adejare. He is expected to be confirmed by the state governor and then he will start the training rituals.”
“I see,” Ife said.
“Well I don’t. The idiot has taken the time to announce his coming wedding to queen Squint-Eye”
Ife giggled. “Come on, Tinu, you are really stupid if you don’t express happiness for him. Never heard of a conditional king before though.”
“Well,” Tinu said.
Ife saw the pain in her eyes and quietly held her friend’s hand, squeezing it in silent comfort. There was some silence before Tinu stood up and said she had to get back as she did not want to get to the village late. Ife asked her if she was sure she would be alright and said she could spend the night and leave in the morning. Tinu said she had not told Lucas she would be away so she must get back.
“Imagine I would have to curtsey to that girl.”
“How long do we have to wait?”
“For what?”
“The coronation.”
Tinu frowned. “Well let’s see now. If the governor approves the choice, we may have a very short time to wait because his training will be em, the nine houses; olojodu, sao, em…olisa sasere…” She went on counting on her fingers then looked at Ife. “Hey the kingmakers will be bringing him to you for your blessing on the final ritual train…Blast, are you going to bless him?”
Ife frowned. “What has it got to do with me?”
“You are the living goddess and you will have to bless him because now that I remember, his first official function will be to come to your shrine and pay homage. How absolutely silly.” Tinu giggled forgetting her present misery. “Don’t you know how silly it is going to be? He will have to tie a white wrap round himself, come with maidens and bring you palm wine, yams, baskets upon baskets of all fruits, one large cow, goats, drums of palm oil—”
Ife cut her short. “Shut up, Tinu. I have heard enough.”
“It is the tradition. I don’t know all the lists but those are some of the things. Lucas told me.”
“I see,” Ife said quietly. “By the way, is the Lion still at home now?”
“I have no idea. Jare simply came over to my place to share the good news.” Tinu pulled a face as she said that. “Yuck, I will have to stop calling him Jare even in private now.”
Ife had a faraway look in her eyes and Tinu asked her what she was thinking. Ife jerked out of her thoughts. “Can a goddess feel love or desire?”
Tinu’s jaw dropped.
“I wish I knew, sometimes I don’t have the answers. I feel I should, right?”
Tinu stared, and swallowed. “Have you never felt a desire for Babatunde?”
Ife spoke slowly. “I don’t know what that is supposed to mean. It is human to feel, right?”
Tinu nodded a yes and Ife gulped and turned away.
“I feel very peaceful when I am with him like a placid running river, that is why I have been waiting and scared in case I should feel like that for someone else.”
Tinu whispered, “Even goddesses have their problems too.”
Chapter Fifteen
”I know about desire, Princess,” Babatunde said softly, his voice controlled and even.
Ife watched him warily, her eyes searching his, and worry in her face. “I am not being a prude. I love you, Lion, but I am not sure if I serve you well keeping you hanging. You should be a father by now. I am beset by doubts and I want to feel passion.”
Babatunde suddenly went on his knees and bowed his head, his fists indicating his inner agony. “I have always loved you. I have dared to want you with all of my fiber. Please don’t dismiss me.”
They were by the grove. Ife had come abruptly to the village to look for him and found him alone. One look at his face and his longing had brought her close to tears. She had come, intent on releasing him and now she faced her own agony so she prayed for strength. She looked at his bowed head and love filled her, but she was saddened that she felt only comfortable and sensed it was not enough. Had she taken him for granted and just stepped into the acceptance that he would always be there for her? She had gone through a lot of soul searching asking herself questions endlessly. She knew she wanted to feel the same passion that she had seen with Yomi and Wura;
even the longing in Tinu’s eyes had shown her that something was missing. Yomi and Wura had been unable to keep their hands off each other. They were always touching, forgetting sometimes where they were as they instinctively held hands. She had snuggled up to Babatunde at the one proper date but that was it. Like snuggling into my pillow, comfy and warm, she thought.
“Please, Lion, rise, you are making me feel foolish like this.”
“May I make a suggestion?”
“Yes?”
“Why don’t we devote a bit more time seeing each other? You might get use to me enough to confirm if I am your uncle or…” He did not finish the sentence but he smiled giving Ife an opportunity to join his light mood.
“Getting a bit heavy, eh?” she asked.
“Maybe.”
“Are you still a virgin?”
That dropped Babatunde in his tracks. He whirled round to face her. Ife had covered her mouth in horror and kept shaking her head but suddenly her eyes filled with mirth and she ran. Babatunde chased after her tumbling her down and gathering in his arms. He took a sharp breath and Ife in alarm asked him if he was fine. He swallowed and in a husky voice explained that he was fine.
“Why did you want to know if I am a virgin? I am thirty-four, male and fancy free, er, strike out fancy free. I love you.”
“Will Olodumare be angry if we marry because we love each other? You know our parents tend to frown at couples gallivanting. I don’t think I ever saw Dad kiss my mother. Not that he would dare with all those prayers she was always doing.”
Babatunde pretended to be scandalized. “Princess.”
Ife giggled feeling relieved that she could still laugh. There was silence for a while as they walked towards the town proper.
They shared a fairly peaceful day and went to Babatunde’s family compound. Babatunde’s father was electrified when he saw Ife arrive and gave his son a sharp glance. Ife was oblivious of the old man’s constraint as she smiled and curtseyed to him. He drew out a traditional stool, wiped it with the edge of his agbada and instantly backed away. Ife became aware of the constraints and grabbed the old man’s hand to keep him still. She didn’t say anything, just held his hand for a few seconds and the man slowly sat down. Babatunde watched his father touched by the regard he gave Ife in her position as the living Numen.
Ife sat on the stool and Babatunde’s mother almost dropped the water she was carrying when she saw who her guest was. She dropped a quick curtsey and wiped her hands on her wrapper as her eyebrows disappeared into her head in shocked surprised. Ife laughed outright asking if she was just a fright and invited Babatunde’s mother to sit. Ife asked after her arthritis that she knew she was trying disguise. The old lady simply nodded.
The chat was stilted but warm in the affection that Babatunde’s father showed Ife when the awkwardness left. Tope was still at the farm and his young bride now obviously pregnant came over to say hello as did the rest of the household. An hour later Ife took her leave and Babatunde’s mother told her she could consider their home as hers too. Ife knew what that meant now that she had become an orphan.
~~~
Five days later as Ife made her ward rounds in the evening she knew what bothered her about the woman in bed six. She had been given a caesarian section when she could not birth naturally. However, the wound had been difficult to heal and she had wondered why the lady did not show any interest in nursing her baby and would just stare at the ceiling hours on end. It was like she was willing herself to fade off. Ife decided to visit the woman.
“Why do you want to die just as you have become a mother?” Ife asked, when she got to the bed.
The woman whirled round in shock.
“What is your name?” Ife asked, as she pulled a chair and peered at the card hanging by the hospital bed. The information was scanty, it didn’t say she was married just her name as Joke Omoniyi.
“So is this Mrs.? Your husband is John?” Ife said, as looking at the card she started picking information from Joke. She saw the details of rape and was stunned. She saw that the rapist was the son of the man she worked for. In compassion she moved closer and stroked the suddenly trembling hands and saw the tears, the agony, being chased out of her parents’ home, and the anger of the families. Now Ife knew why she didn’t seem interested in the baby and why she had problems birthing naturally.
“Oh dear, I understand now, you wanted to bring out the baby dead if you could, right?”
Joke nodded, too choked with emotion to speak.
“Has anybody visited?”
“No, didn’t want anybody to see me.”
Ife was full of love and asked for help for the young woman. The next day she went to the office of the CMD, quietly asked for a counselor to visit Joke, and then went to the accounts department asking for the bill of Mrs. Joke Omoniyi. She asked that it should be transferred to her office.
The accountant gave her a strange look asking if the woman was a relation. She smiled and said yes that she kind of knew the girl before. Ife felt that Joke might be an intelligent girl and wanted to know what she could do to be helpful. So one evening as she walked off the ward she decided she would pay the matron a visit. Matron was a motherly person who barked at the nurses but knew the personal problem of each person. Ife used to wonder how she coped.
Matron gave her a surprised look and smiled. “Don’t tell me you decided to be sensible and got yourself a boyfriend?”
Ife laughed. “Matron, I always had a boyfriend. Just waiting for him to make his first million.”
Matron smiled in affection. “Marry him.”
Ife shook her head and laughed. “I have another baby for you to mother, Matron, a victim of rape who is not ready to discuss it but needs understanding and loads of love. No preaching either.”
Matron looked affronted. “I preach?”
Ife laughed and peeped into the fridge knowing it would have fruit stored in it, so she brought out some lemons, squeezed one into a glass of honey water, and drank.
“Who is this?”
Ife shook her head and said she did not feel like talking but she wanted matron to put the girl at ease and added that she had arranged that she would be paying the hospital bills.
A few days later, she went back to visit Joke. There was still a sad look in her eyes and Ife pretended to ignore that, sat by the bed and spoke very quietly like she was talking to herself.
“I have always wondered if I should not finally talk to my mother, you know. I have been trying all these months to ask myself why I should bother. I have been thinking of those times I knew her for the first time, you know before I was born in fact. I remember her willingness to leave her faith behind and embrace a new faith if that would make me stay. I realized I never gave her much time. I never really understood the power of love that will make her sit quietly, sing songs and watch me from a distance. I thought she was closed in by her faith but then, it was the only weapon she had to fight a life choked with mysticism, hate, ignorance and real superstition.
“Things are different now and we have medical help to dispel some of our ignorance but…I still notice the herbs parents bring as they watch their children give birth. They still tie pebbles in their wrappers and they still hope. I am going to miss my mum when it is time to be a mother. I am going to miss the secret hot water tubs of water filled with herbs she would sneak into my bed and ask me to sit, so I could allow the hot steam heal me from within. I am going to miss the suppressed screams when they do the hot tummy towel rub to ensure my stomach muscles contract and my tummy returns to normal.
“Mothers do those things you know. Most times we don’t care for their interference, always assuming we know better. But then the love of a mother to her child spans beyond even her lifetime. They could also call to you from the beyond, still anxious, still wanting to teach you something. I couldn’t be close to her because we were almost oceans apart. She tried to embrace me across the oceans, now I feel I should have allowed her to talk to
me from the vast loneliness of her own heart. I think I should have allowed her to weep into my heart her own longings too. Those silent nights of dread as she watched me terrified on my sick bed, thinking I was going to cross over too soon.
“In our tradition, it is terrible for your child to precede you to the grave and I think that was why she decided to leave with Dad. I mourned Dad and shrugged off Mother. I didn’t even have a pet name for her. She was willing to share me, and effaced herself when I showed an exclusive preference for my father’s company. Now I sense how lonely that would have been for her. Losing the love of her husband to another woman that rapidly increased and holding all that alone and praying. Was she able to pray passion out of her system? A marriage is sustained by not just love, but a physical passion that wants to be exclusive. A sharing of passion that vibrates as a healthy passion between a man and a woman and welds them together on a single purpose. In my tradition, a woman is forbidden that physical joy in her mate as more often than not, it is frowned upon if she asks for an exclusiveness. They therefore pour all that repressed longing into their children. My mum did not even have that pleasure. It is time for me to do her second burial and get her a seat with the elders so she can finally sit with Dad, and know he will turn round on that golden horse of his and invite his Jasmine to ride with him.”
She looked up at Joke who was sobbing quietly. “Sister from another mother, call for your mother, let her in, both of you have suffered enough. Tell yourself that Mother must sit with the ancestors when the time comes, but start the healing process now. I will go now to prepare Mother’s seat too.”
Joke nodded and Ife knew that the healing process had begun for herself too. She knew it was time to take another look at how she had thought of her mm. There had been some assumptions, that her mother had been conscious of her trips and she had made an unfair judgment. The exact thing she had railed against. No wonder she had received the jasmine flowers. It was not from her mother but it had been a gentle rebuke from home. While she had sorely missed the passing of her dad, she had been cold and unfeeling about her mother’s passing. Not one loving thought had been sent to help her on her journey and Ife felt shame and pain.
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