My heart echoed my exclamation. My resistance of not wanting to talk with him slipped and I made my cutlass aware that I cared not what it reported to Onime. He was going away. “Leaving?” My voice shook.
He nodded without saying a word. I saw it in his eyes that he didn’t trust his voice any longer. This was a vulnerable moment for him. It touched my heart to discover this way that he really loves me.
“What about me?” I asked anxiously.
He smiled wanly. “I will always write to you.”
“But…but I…just found you. You can’t leave now.” I didn’t realise I was crying till he put his arms around me and muttered consoling words.
*****
“Omoteowore!” The shoving jostled me out of my reverie. “All of a sudden you’ve gone mute?”
I sat up slowly and looked at my mother vaguely. “Onime,” I did the knee movement again.
A finger pointed at me rudely. “Don’t Onime me like some village child. You call me mother or mama or better still mummy. That is what the town children call their mothers. Onime!” she mimicked and hissed. “I’m off to the market. If you like let him in.” She eyed me. “When I return, we will settle our score.”
I stared at the closed door. She was gone. I quickly got out of bed and dressed up. I must find him before he leaves.
*****
I was on my way going to see him. I didn’t want to think of yesterday, about him and myself, but the thoughts came all the same.
His consoling words as I cried at the thought of not seeing him calmed me down a bit. “Are you sure?” I had inquired like a child who has been told that her dead mother was only sleeping and would wake up soon.
He smiled convincingly, “I promise you.”
“How?” I had wanted to know.
“Just trust me,” he had said as he put an arm around me and walked me out of my tomato farm.
I completely forgot Onime warned me never to let him near me. Never to let him into our home. But at that moment all I could think of was the fear of not seeing him again. How could I have possibly remembered Onime’s warning, when this man means so much to me that I could not afford to lose him?
He led the way as though he were the occupant and I the visitor. Once inside, and after he was well convinced that I was very composed, he let me into the reason why he had to leave.
My smile had known no boundary. “I am very happy for you.”
He nodded and almost immediately his countenance fell. “I wish I could take you with me, Omo.”
I had hesitated. “Of course you can, and I wish you would.” I knew not if I sounded desperate saying that.
He had looked at me with eyes so full of affection, that at that moment I truly believed that he loved me tenderly. How could Onime be so refuted? He then came closer to me and took both of my hands in his. “What about your mother?”
Another hesitation on my part. I didn’t think of the woman before saying he could take me. “My mother?” I asked. “She will be fine I guess.” I had hoped I sounded unconcerned.
“Omo, she’s all you have in the world, all you’ve ever known,” he reasoned with me, not because he was seeking an excuse for leaving me, but because it was the right thing to say. Normally, he wouldn’t care about Onime, but he cared about me and what concerned me, like my mother, should concern him also.
“I have you,” I insisted.
“You are all she has Omo,” he said quite too gently, that I had to look at him suspiciously. Was he thinking of her or me? “You are the only reason she’s living. You brought sunlight into her world, and the sun is still very bright. I don’t want to alter that.”
The surprise on my face was obvious and he opened his mouth to speak, but I raised my finger because I had something to say. “How come you are thinking of her? She’s had me all my life, now she should be willing to let me have someone else, someone like you; someone who would make me happy. You think so right?”
He fell quiet.
He must have heard my heart beat accelerating against my will as I got to my feet to be far from him. “If you don’t want me, why did you come here?” My back was to him.
“How can you say that I don’t want you, Omo?” He sounded hurt, and I turned to face him. “I do want you Omo. I would give anything to have you with me but, I wouldn’t do that to your mother. She doesn’t deserve such treatment. She’s been good to you and indirectly, to me, because if she hadn’t borne you, I never would have you.”
“She doesn’t know you think this much of her,” I dropped on him.
He raised a brow. “Take that back! I don’t think much of your mother.”
That hit me in the wrong place. “You don’t think much of my mother?” My voice trembled on the grounds of uprising anger.
“Why should I? Look at the way she treats me, the way she feeds you with lies,” his voice was rising. “If I really want to hurt her or get back at her, to put the words more appropriately, I would take you with me and there will be nothing she will do to me.”
My irritation was now at its surface. “You think you can just walk in here and talk that way about my mother, Onime? How dare you!” I threw.
He sobered up at my tone. “I’m sorry Omo. It’s just that your mother really has annoyed me.”
“Oh! And you I guess, you haven’t annoyed her, right?” I had sighed. “Why am I even listening to you, or how did it come about that I let you into this house, going against my dear mother’s words?” I had marched to the door and had thrown it opened. “Please, leave!”
He stood there looking at me. After a while he released a deep breath. “We shouldn’t be fighting Omo, we don’t have much time. I’m leaving tomorrow,” his words were gentle.
“I love my mother. Onime, is all I’ve got!” I insisted, beating at my chest as though he was arguing the fact. “It is wrong for you to speak rudely of her to my face.” I shook my head. “Apologize. Tell me you didn’t mean the words you said. That Onime is worthy of anybody’s praises, including yours.”
He laughed. Not nicely. Then he shook his head. “Your mother is good for you, I don’t deny that. I said that earlier when explaining why I couldn’t take you with me. But no, she isn’t worthy of my praises. I won’t say words to please you.”
“Then get out!” I yelled at him. “Don’t ever come back. I disown you!”
He winced. “Your words Omo, you’re so uncouth,” he shook his head as he approached the door. “What sort of upbringing will a child like you receive from a mother like yours? I thought I could change you but I see you are another version of her.”
My mouth opened to throw a suitable insult at him, but his departure beat me to it.
*****
I was so furious. I love that man. After Onime, he counts next, and there he stood attacking me as though I were a stranger. I looked around, seeing nothing to interest me I fled into the safety of my room. The first thing I saw on entering my room was the typewriter he gave me. My mother had allowed me to keep that gift of his because she saw that the only way it would affect my life, would be in a positive way. He had given it to me because he got a machine better and faster. Staring at the typewriter consoled me. I made up my mind to forget what just happened. I made up my mind, not to think of following him because he would always make me angry, whenever he spoke rudely of Onime. I decided to be content that I had him. We don’t have to have that relationship; the kind that mother and I have. Onime shouldn’t hear about this, she would skin me alive. First for disobeying her, and secondly, for having the guts to tell her that I disobeyed her. She wouldn’t blame him, she would blame me. If I hadn’t disobeyed her, he wouldn’t have said those words that made me angry. I can always predict my mother.
That evening, when Onime had returned from the market, I left the house to visit with friends and by the time I returned, she had gone to bed. I went to bed too feeling so well with myself. I didn’t try to figure out his attitude when I met him at the villag
e center minutes back. I ought to have known but I was too engrossed with the attention the young men were throwing my way, to bother why he was fidgeting about restlessly, like a cow that was gestating.
Then this morning I had woken to the awkward feeling of queer precariousness. If I had completed my backwards journey before Onime had come into my room, I would have gone to her to tell about what happened between the man I love so much, and myself. But I did not because last night, I’ve had such a wonderful time with my friends. This morning I forgot about yesterday. What actually hit me as strange was the fact that my mother didn’t come into my room to wake me up; I sleep like a log of wood. She didn’t wake me up, so I overslept. I finally woke up and she had done all my house chores; a perfect sign that she was angry with me. I knew she was angry but I knew not what of because I forgot. Now I know. Somehow, she heard of what happened yesterday.
What were her words again? “I am off to the market, if you like, let him in. When I return, we will settle our score.” Those were her words. There was no denying the fact that she was talking about him. How did she find out?
*****
Following the short cut; there are lots of them everywhere to anywhere in the village, I dragged along the path that led to his house. He mustn’t leave yet. The house was in view now. I felt the excitement rush through me. He always made me feel those feelings. I wish he wouldn’t leave me. I know I’ll be lonely without him; although I have this other young man, the feelings are different.
I tapped gently on the door. I tapped again, no response still. I turned the handle and it gave way. I stepped into his well-furnished office like sitting room. He wasn’t there. I sat down. It’s possible he had gone outside to get something. I was there lost in thoughts of what to say to him after the way I’d treated him yesterday. Breathing deeply, I decided he would understand. He had to understand that I reacted out of anger. My mother was been walloped in my presence. My head shot towards the closed door of his bedroom. I thought I heard something, but it could be my imagination. Was he in? I heard voices. Imagine the load of laughter. Then, oh! I heard my name! Another explosion of laughter! I was on my feet and approached the door. I turned the handle and walked into the room. My eyes popped! Unbelievable! Two people in bed together. How could he break my heart this way? And she too? She knew how I felt about him.
I rapped on the door furiously.
They jolted up and apart immediately. Both of them naked; thankfully her wrapper was covering some part of them.
“Omo,” she said nervously.
I noticed she has abandoned Omoteowore for now. I turned and returned the way I came into the sitting room, out of the house, and back home into my room. As always, the first thing I saw was the bloody typewriter. Angrily, I picked it up and flung it against the wall. I heard the fast approaching footsteps. Soon the door to my bedroom opened with jitters.
“Omo.”
“Don’t talk to me!” I hissed. Opportunity presented itself not always. While I have this one, I wouldn’t waste it. Who would have dreamt that I would one day have the audacity to snap at my own mother, the same who always promised to kill me? “Don’t even mention my name!” All my piled up anger for all she has deprived me off, surfaced. She shooed me away from him, so she could be with him. He came here, insulted her the way he pleased, just to get me into a wax, and went behind my back to tell Onime how I insulted him, and she would wander into my room making my skin crawl.
“Omo, listen. You don’t understand,” she started in an unsure voice. “I can explain.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want an explanation!” I yelled as my voice broke and my eyes couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.
Mother came towards me. She held me to herself. “Omo, you know I love you. What we are trying to do is give you what you should have. We ought to have done it a long time ago, but he was just selfish. We are trying to make amends.” She looked at me. She continued when she saw I was listening. “Your father loves you.”
“You hate me!” I yelled. “Both of you hate me! You punish me always because of him. I just hate him so and I hate you!” I pushed her hands away.
“Only yesterday, Omo, you were angry because I said things about your mother. Now you hate her? And oh, look at my typewriter.” It was him alright. He approached the typewriter with a pained looked on his face. Bending over, he began to stroke it.
I went out of the room knowing they wouldn’t dare to stop me. I was in control. I did wake up to that feeling that something was not right. I found them in bed together. That was the evil sign I had earlier. Now I know.
Imagine the market she went to everyday. The market was right in the middle of the bedroom; on the bed.
I walked. No destination in mind. I just listened to the voice of my feet and obeyed. My mind I blanked out because I didn’t want to invite thoughts. Should I be happy for my parents? I wondered, knowing every child’s dream was to live happily with both parents; especially one like me who just turned sixteen.
*****
Aseba is her name. She is my mother, whom I call Onime; meaning my mother in Isoko. She is thirty-two years old. If I am sixteen, then she must have had me when she was sixteen also. A pretty young age to have a child. But then, in their time – and even now – girls marry early or had children early. It is one of those areas where the girls here claim that they are more advanced than the city girls. The difference here is Aseba wasn’t given away in marriage to anyone. She got herself pregnant, bringing shame on the good name of her parents.
My grandfather, Aseba’s father, was a well-known man in the community. A man, whose grandfather at the time of the introduction of Christianity was quick in denouncing it because it taught against the ways of our ancestors. The respect the community had for him rubbed off on his descendants. A man, whose grandfather, was known throughout the village and the stretches of villages across as an indomitable warrior. The fear they had of him rubbed off on his male descendants. A man, whose grandfather was known never to go back on his words; and that too, rubbed off on his descendants, because even me never go back on my words. A man, whose grandfather – who above all things and despite his reputation as a strong man of words and actions – fell at the voice of his wife; the woman he adored, the grandmother of my grandfather. And that rubbed off on all his male descendants, especially my grandfather, who would kill for his wife, Aseba’s beautiful mother.
I said she got pregnant; Aseba that is. She did that and the wrath of the ancestors, in the person of her father descended on her in no small amount.
He wouldn’t have been angry with her – my grandfather wouldn’t have been. As he loved his wife; ready to do good and evil at her bid, so also he loved his daughter, Aseba. He would do anything before he raised a finger on his daughter; the only child he was blessed with as though the ancestors predicted what my grandmother would make him do. It never happened that he raised his voice on her any day until that day; the day Aseba was disowned.
How could a man like my grandfather who loved his daughter so much disown her just because she got in the family way? Children borne out of wedlock were everywhere. Whoever heard of illegitimate children on this side of the world? It was no secret that even my grandfather was one before the mistake was corrected. Then why did he take that step? My grandmother of course! She didn’t like the fact that as respected as she was in the community, her daughter had to bring upon them such disgrace. She forgot about the disgrace she caused her parents when she got pregnant with her daughter; my mother. She forgot about the disgrace she inflicted on her family, when she, who was the daughter; the only female child of Odionlogbo, the village head, eloped with her heartthrob; my grandfather. She forgot all that and put my mother through hell. She even forgot how her parents forgave her when she returned home with her poor husband; who was of a blood of no strong holding in the village. All his family was known for was the achievement of his grandfather. But while the community respected them still,
they never made them forget the line that divided the high and mighty from the low.
My grandfather loved his wife. Let husbands and wives obey each other and live peacefully and the reward of a long life would be theirs, they say. Let he who finds good luck and prosperity between the thighs of a woman – like my grandfather found at my grandmother’s – live according to the words that she evokes, I say. My grandmother was no ordinary woman. She was beautiful till the day she died. She was a woman of words that are undisputable; I told you it runs in my family. The name of her husband’s grandfather must have rubbed off on her too. But credit her for her achievements. She was a woman who would take a no good man and make a mountain out of him; she did that with my grandfather. She was a woman who made any make of man fall in love with her; and her admirers were much, but my grandfather only she loved. Most importantly, she was a woman who took exactly what she wanted, price regardless. She was a woman of class; one that ought not exist in the kind of community she grew up, but she had her principles. If she told you it was right for her to get pregnant out of wedlock then she was definitely correct. But when she said it was wrong for my mother to get pregnant out of wedlock, she was right and there was no contesting her – she just didn’t want me to be born. The nerve of her! See why I love Onime so much?
She rained down fire; my grandmother did. She couldn’t understand why her daughter, the granddaughter of the Odionlogbo family, would turn out to be so degrading. My grandfather had no choice when his wife pronounced Aseba as disowned. He fell for it; anything she said.
Poor Aseba; disowned as young as she was. When I think of what she’s gone through all because of me, I show empathy in secret, but then, I didn’t ask to be born.
She went to him who planted me in her. He also disowned her; indirectly disowning me – I was right to say that I hated him.
Sixteen and without food and shelter and a shoulder to cry on, she survived – the ancestors watch over her also and they do not understand the language of illegitimacy. Till date, she won’t tell me how she survived. She only reminds me that she carried me for nine months and if she had wanted, she would have undone me; there were grandmothers who had the liquid portions.
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