Wake Me When I'm Gone

by Odafe Atogun

  They all gasped.

  ‘Ese, you know it is an abomination to dig up the dead,’ Chair-Lady said.

  ‘Yes, it is an abomination. But my son is not dead, and he is not in that grave. So dig him up and let’s see. This is all a part of your wicked lie.’

  They spoke and argued amongst themselves for a few moments. And then they carried me back to my house the same way they had brought me.

  *

  When we got to my house, I saw the orphans standing at a distance, arms folded across their chests. I called out to them, but I was rushed into the house and not allowed to talk to them.

  They took me into my room and laid me on the bed. I had become too weak and too sad to fight. So I closed my eyes and drifted into sleep.

  It was starting to get dark when I awoke. Everyone had gone; only Chair-Lady remained. She told me she had moved in to look after me for a while. I said nothing in response. I simply stared at her. We stayed in silence. I wondered where they were hiding Noah – probably in the palace. I told myself that I must find a way to get in there and rescue him.

  Chair-Lady went to the kitchen and brought me food. She begged me to eat. I ate and drank a little, then I pushed the plates away. I stared at her, waiting for her to tell me the truth, to beg my forgiveness and tell me she did it for money, and that she would help me to get my son back from the palace. But she said nothing, and I knew that her heart was set.

  As for my parents and in-laws, I could not believe they had turned into such monsters to betray me as cruelly as they had done. I shook my head.

  *

  A few days passed. Chair-Lady slept in the house with me at night, on a mat in the living room. In the morning she made breakfast for me before going to her house. She came and went during the day. I noticed a couple of guards outside my house, probably assigned there to watch me and prevent me from taking any steps that could expose the lie about my son. I knew I could not fight the Chief and the entire village, so I decided to tread carefully. At the right time their lie would be exposed and I would be reunited with my son again.

  I spent my time sleeping, or just sitting in the backyard gazing at nothing. I could not think of anything. Sometimes the rain fell without ceasing, and the wind was louder and angrier than before. I did not know what was happening in the village because I had not put a foot outside my house since they brought me back from the graveyard. I knew I must go to the palace soon to confront the Chief. And I reminded myself to visit the orphans to tell them what was going on.

  On the fifth morning, I had gathered enough strength. After I had taken a bath and eaten, I told Chair-Lady that I was going to the palace.

  ‘To go and do what?’ she asked.

  ‘To see the Chief and tell him to give me my son,’ I said resolutely.

  ‘Your son is not at the palace,’ Chair-Lady said quietly.

  I saw fear in her eyes – fear that their lie would be exposed very soon.

  I confronted her boldly. ‘That’s what you say, but I can see it in your eyes that you’re lying. Why, Chair-Lady? Why did you betray me so cruelly?’

  She sighed and looked away, saying nothing. Of course, she had nothing to say. She knew that I was telling the truth.

  ‘I didn’t betray you,’ she said, ‘and it is pointless going to the palace.’

  ‘Well, I’m going, and there is nothing you or anyone can do to stop me. After all, I’m not under arrest.’

  ‘Ese, take it easy. With time everything will become very clear to you.’

  I did not answer her. I stormed out of the house. The guards outside did not try to stop me. As I went through the village, the people I met greeted me, commiserating with me over my son’s death. I did not answer them. I knew they were only trying to keep up the lie.

  When I got to the palace, the royal guards shook their heads sadly at me, expressing their condolences in quiet voices. I shook my head with a bitter laugh. I know all your lies, I thought to myself. Aloud, I said to them, ‘I would like to see the Chief.’

  They exchanged worried looks, unsure what to do. Getting no response from them, I marched into the palace. They scrambled after me, but none of them tried to stop me. I entered a large hall. Colourful mats were spread out on the floor to serve as seats, and the heads of various wild animals were mounted all over the wall. The hall was empty, so I proceeded into the next room, which was much smaller. In this room, more mats were spread out on the floor, but the wall was bare. There was a big drum in each corner of the room. Beside each drum was a large bowl containing ashes. Two guards carrying swords were positioned at the far door that led deeper into the palace. As I approached the door, the guards lifted their swords. ‘You cannot go beyond this point,’ one of them said.

  ‘I want to see the Chief,’ I said stubbornly. But they merely stared at me, saying nothing. ‘I said I want to see the Chief,’ I shouted at the top of my voice.

  And then the Chief came out and walked towards me with some anxiety.

  ‘Give me back my son,’ I snapped at him.

  ‘Your son . . .’ he said, looking at me in confusion.

  ‘Don’t give me that look. You have him here in the palace. I want my son back.’

  ‘Your son is not here,’ he said. ‘Your son is dead.’

  ‘No, my son is not dead. Please just give him back to me and I will marry you, if that’s what you want.’

  The Chief began to tremble. ‘Please marry me,’ he said. ‘When I had the painting, I let you be because I had you, even if only in a painting. But then those useless thieves came and stole you from me.’ He stretched his hands towards me. ‘Ese, please marry me.’

  The guards and I gave gasps of surprise. It was the Chief who had stolen the painting; he had admitted to it in the presence of his guards. Unfortunately, he was the Chief, so there was nothing anyone could do. But we now knew that he was the thief. His guards were not supposed to divulge his confession to the public, but I knew that they would gossip about it all the same.

  I could not care less about the painting. All I wanted was my son. ‘Give me my son and I will marry you,’ I said.

  And then he broke down in tears. The guards looked on in confusion, not knowing how to handle the situation.

  ‘I swear your son is not here,’ the Chief said.

  ‘Then let me check the entire palace and see for myself.’

  ‘Go ahead.’ To the guards, he said, ‘Take her round. Let her search the whole palace and see for herself.’

  I searched the whole palace, but there was no sign of Noah. I had never felt so much frustration. I could not fathom where they could have hidden my son.

  *

  Not knowing what to do, I left the palace and made my way slowly to the outskirts. I found the orphans at home. They were lying on the floor in the living room, looking lost, silent tears in their eyes. They stared at me with pity, unable to say a word.

  I sat down on the floor with them, my back against the wall. ‘They’ve taken Noah away,’ I told them. ‘I don’t know where they’ve taken him.’

  I got no response.

  After a while, I got up and went round wiping away their tears. I noticed that they looked gaunt, as if they had not eaten in days. I got a tuber of yam from their barn and cooked it. I fried peppers and tomatoes in red oil. I set the table and told them to come and eat, but they just stared at me. I pleaded with them to eat, promising to take them to my house to live with me. They looked at me uncertainly, hopefully. And then Mofe rose and told the others to stand up. They obeyed him, and they ate.

  I watched them eat. None of us said a word. When they finished, I did the dishes and joined them on the floor of the living room. Suddenly, the thunder rumbled in the distance. I got up and looked outside. I saw that the rain would begin soon. I turned to them and said, ‘Get some of your things, we’re going to my house.’

  They scrambled to their feet and got a few things. We hurried back to the village before the rain could start.
r />   *

  Chair-Lady was shocked when I arrived with them.

  I told Bomboi and Igalo to make themselves comfortable in Noah’s room while Mofe and Tega took the spare room. I made up my mind to convert the entire house into an orphanage. The rooms were very large; I could partition them to get three extra rooms. I planned to begin the project the next day. When Noah eventually returned home, he would be proud to see what I had done.

  ‘Why did you bring the boys?’ Chair-Lady asked, looking agitated.

  ‘I brought them to live with me, and I intend to convert my house into an orphanage,’ I told her. ‘I will carve out extra rooms, and I will make the whole house colourful and bright, just the way Noah saw it in his dream. In time, I will build more rooms in the backyard and take in more children like these.’

  Chair-Lady was speechless. She hurried out. She did not come to sleep in the house that night or the nights that followed.

  *

  While I helped them to unpack their things, Bomboi sat quietly on a stool, his hands in his lap, his eyes following my movements. The older boys helped me with this and that.

  The rain had started to fall. The wind was loud, and the village appeared to be empty. In fact, the whole world was empty; we were all on our own.

  We finished unpacking and went into the living room. I left the lantern in a corner. Bomboi sat beside me on a small bench, the others sat on a longer one. We sat in silence, but we could read each other’s mind – we were thinking of Noah, and missing him. We were sad. We were not complete without him.

  Finally, Bomboi asked, ‘Mother, where is Noah?’

  I was surprised and delighted that he called me Mother. I placed my arm around him. ‘Noah will come home soon,’ I said to him. ‘I will find him and bring him home soon.’

  ‘But they said Noah is dead,’ he said and began to cry.

  I pulled him to me. ‘Stop crying, please,’ I told him. ‘Noah is not dead. It’s all a lie made up by the Chief. Noah will return home soon.’

  ‘We saw the grave,’ Mofe said. ‘We saw them carry the . . .’

  I cut him off. ‘It’s all part of their wicked lie. Noah is not dead. They’re keeping him somewhere. I don’t know where, but I will find him soon and bring him home. And all of us will live together happily ever after. You will see.’

  Mofe shook his head sadly, saying nothing.

  That night, I listened to strange enchantments in the night while the boys slept.

  ELEVEN

  For three days, no one came near us, but the entire village was buzzing with the news that the orphans had moved in with me.

  We had started making the blocks which we would use to partition the rooms. Mofe, Tega and I did most of the work while Igalo and Bomboi helped with the little bits. When it was not raining, we dug mud from the backyard and deposited it in a pile in the living room. We could not make the blocks outside because they could be destroyed by rain, so we used the living room, having moved the furniture and other items into my room. We arranged the blocks in columns, leaving enough space between them for movement.

  While we dug mud in the backyard, several people gathered to watch us from afar. We did not bother about them, but we could hear their excited voices as they talked about us, asking each other what we were doing. They were mostly women and children; their curiosity drew a few men, who watched us for a while then left to spread the word about what they had seen.

  I undertook the work readily. But sometimes I could not help being weighed down by thoughts of my son. At such times, I reminded myself that I was preparing our home for his joyous return, and this lifted my spirits again. I felt really grateful to have the boys living with me – they all called me Mother now, and I referred to them as my sons. We had become family; I could not wait for Noah to join us. I made up my mind to go back to the palace in a few days’ time to demand his release. Surely, the Chief could not keep him for ever. I imagined the delight on his face when he returned and discovered that I had converted our house into an orphanage and that his friends now lived with us. I felt thrilled and I worked harder than ever before.

  *

  When it was time for me to cook, we took a break and went to the kitchen together. I calculated that the food in the barn would last us about a month. Then I would have to travel to other markets to buy food. But that was not a problem; I had saved some money while business was good on Main Street.

  We chatted animatedly about our progress while I cooked. After we had eaten, we rested for a while before going back to work. By the end of the third day we had made about twenty blocks, and I estimated that we would need about two hundred for the work that I had in mind.

  Our world crumbled on the afternoon of the fourth day when the Chief, the priests and a small crowd showed up at our house. The crowd waited outside while the Chief and the priests came into the living room. They were shocked to see the work we were doing, and for a while they just gaped at us. They moved gingerly between the columns, like wary inspectors assessing a poorly done job, and they shook their heads in disbelief.

  ‘What are you doing?’ the High Priest asked in astonishment.

  ‘We are making blocks to build more rooms,’ I replied nonchalantly.

  ‘Are you aware that it’s against the law for women to build in our village? Are you aware that it’s the worst taboo you can think of? And that any woman who breaks the law faces death by hanging? Are you aware?’ the High Priest asked.

  I turned to the Chief angrily. ‘So it’s not enough that you have kidnapped my son, you have now come to intimidate me with the priests. Is that it?’

  The Chief shook his head hopelessly. ‘I told them to leave you alone,’ he said, in a resigned voice, ‘but they wouldn’t listen to me. They dragged me here because I’m the custodian of our laws, and they said I must act or they would take me to the shrine and invoke the wrath of the gods upon me and drive me mad. I had to come with them. Ese, please forgive me and marry me,’ he moaned pathetically.

  ‘Enough!’ I snapped, raising my hand. I turned to the priests. ‘Go and tell the gods there is nothing anyone can do to stop me. These boys are my children now. They call me Mother and I call them my sons. They will live here in my house.’

  Chair-Lady barged in then. A gasp of horror escaped her when she saw the mud and the blocks we had made. ‘Ese, you’re playing with fire,’ she cried, as if her entire being had been torched. ‘What do you think you are doing?’

  ‘What do you see me doing?’ I retorted.

  She placed her hands on her head in frustration.

  ‘You have committed a grave offence, and you will duly face the law,’ the High Priest said to me, his voice like a whip.

  ‘I have committed no offence,’ I replied fearlessly.

  ‘You have committed no offence, you say?’

  ‘I have committed no offence!’

  ‘We shall see!’ He turned to the Chief and his fellow priests. ‘Let’s go.’

  The Chief tried to say something, but the High Priest grabbed his arm and led him away. Chair-Lady followed them, screaming as if a terrible disaster had befallen her.

  The boys looked very frightened. I told them not to worry, that everything would be fine. I was cold with fear inside, but I could not let the boys see it.

  *

  It was dark when Loko came. He said he had sneaked away from home to bring me vital information. He was trembling. ‘They’re going to execute you by hanging tomorrow,’ he told me and began to cry.

  The boys began to cry too, and I tried to no avail to quieten them. ‘God in heaven will not let it happen,’ I told them. ‘Please stop crying.’

  ‘The news is all over the village,’ Loko continued. ‘You must leave tonight. If you don’t, they will hang you tomorrow. I had to come to tell you. If my father knows, he will kill me. Please leave tonight.’

  ‘I cannot leave,’ I said. ‘I cannot leave my children behind. And I need to find Noah. I need to find him.’
My voice was raw with grief.

  Suddenly, the door creaked open. It was Chair-Lady. I was surprised; I did not expect her to come back. ‘Ah, Ese!’ she lamented, shaking her head. ‘Ah, Ese, I cannot deny that you’re a good and strong woman. But you cannot fight tradition. It was given to us by the gods, and you cannot fight the gods. You must leave tonight or else you will die by hanging tomorrow. The priests have taken a decision – no one can save you. Leave, please.’

  ‘I’m going nowhere,’ I snapped.

  Again she shook her head. ‘Come with me, let me show you something,’ she said. ‘Let me show you something, and then you can make up your mind.’

  ‘I’m going nowhere with you, unless you want to show me my son.’

  ‘I cannot show you your son, but I can show you something that will help you to make up your mind. Come with me, please. After you have seen it, I will never bother you again. I promise. I will leave you to do whatever you want. You will never see me in your house again. You will never hear your name on my lips again.’ She went on her knees. ‘Come with me, please,’ she begged.

  In spite of myself, I decided to go with her and see what she had to show me. The boys and I followed her, and she hurriedly led us to the centre of Main Street, where she pointed to a giant tree with the torch she was holding. Dangling high up from the tree was a thick noose. ‘That’s the rope they will use to hang you tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I have come to warn you because I don’t want my last memory of you to be your body dangling from a tree. Please leave tonight. I will make sure that you’re not stopped by the guards or anyone. I will do it as my parting gift to you.’ She turned abruptly and left us at the foot of the tree.

  *

  Loko led the way as we headed back home. I held Bomboi by the hand. We walked quickly, quietly, as if there was an urgent rhythm in the night. My heart was heavy with sorrow. I wondered what would happen to Noah and the rest of my children if I was hanged. But I could not take the decision to leave them behind. No, I could not. Somehow, I had hope that something would happen to swing things in my favour. For the first time in a while, I thought of Kpofe. And I prayed that he would come from the city, like the last time. He had told me that all we could do was hope and pray. So I hoped and prayed that he would come.