Tosin Dada: My mum is dying? [Nigerian Voices]

by Tosin Dada

Is she dying?

The words were slurred because my tongue felt thick and heavy from the tears that chocked my throat. I kept looking straight ahead at the tap head as though expecting an answer from it.

Yes she is.

The answer came in my head; maybe it was God himself answering me. My father used to say God’s voice was like a whisper-a clear and bold whisper. That’s how I heard it now-clear and bold. I shook my head intently causing my headache to intensify.

I felt the coldness of the bath tub then, sharp and fierce seeping into my skin and so I stood up; the stiffness of my legs telling me just how long I had stayed in there- too long. It was time to go. My tears had reduced to trickles and my forceful wailings to receding hiccups.

I looked in the mirror hanging on the bathroom wall and saw a red eyed mess of a girl, her face swollen and wet. The tears almost came again as I stood there looking into my sorrow filled eyes, recalling all what she had said.

‘ . . . nonsense! You think I have time for this? Ehn? I don’t know how I would have three girls, three! And still be coming into the kitchen!” she yelled, her hands moving animatedly over the pot of soup she was cooking. I stood at the other end of the kitchen next to the fridge safe and far away from her.

She hissed, ‘its my fault now, it is! If you know what I’ve been through . . . if you know how many times . . . didn’t I tell you that I went to the hospital?’  she asked rhetorically

‘Didn’t I?’ she asked again, it wasn’t rhetorical. So I nodded my head with a slight frown on my face and my hands held together at my back.

‘Ooh, so I even told you. Okay, have you even asked me what happened? You think I went to play there ba? How many times has anyone in this house gone to the hospital?’

The answer was hardly; no, hardly was still plenty. Never. My father was a doctor, we had no cause to go to the hospital when we were sick even in the case of drip; he would fix one for us at home.

‘Look!’ she commanded, I had been looking. She lowered her camisole slightly below her chest and that’s when I saw it. That’s when my eyes widened and that’s when my brain froze and I couldn’t think or move.

‘I have cancer.’

I kept staring, I kept not saying anything. I was a brick-a frozen ice block in the freezer. I didn’t even hear what my sister was saying behind her.

‘Oh, tor; they said I shouldn’t say ‘have’. The surgery might have removed it.’ She turned the soup seemingly casually, but I could see her hands shaking, I could see her face frown. She turned back and I saw her eyes were red.

‘I just said let me tell you, you are my daughter; you should know. I’m not telling you so that you would be sad now, Ehen.’ She turned away again, but not before I saw the tears. She waved her hands to her chest and continued talking, ‘. . . even if, but I know that God is more than able.’

I strolled out of the kitchen after she said that, slow and quiet. I walked up the stairs one at a time. I entered my bathroom-my comfort zone, locked the door and climbed unto the dry bath tub.

And then I had wept.

It was impossible.

Only people in movies got cancer, a plot to intensify the romance between lovers.

Only people on NTA news got cancer, charity cases to perform surgery. Only people far away got cancer.

Only people who weren’t healthy got cancer; not the wife of a doctor, not my mother!  It was cancer! It was a killer, and my mum had it.

I didn’t say sorry.

Not that evening that she had told me, not the next day, not even days after that. I didn’t even say I that i loved her, I never asked her what exactly happened. I simply didn’t.

But I was sorry, and I did love her-more than ever.

I was never going to disobey her again, never going to be rude or stubborn, I was going to wash all her clothes and make her room all the time.

It wasn’t so.

Never had I ever fought with my mother the way I had that period. A single word, a little delay and she would spark. And I would spark right back.

‘Are you stupid?’ she always asked.

‘No I’m not!’ I would answer because I was indeed stupid; why else would I answer my mother back? Her eyes would go huge and wide in frustration. Sometimes she would slap me, sometimes she’d just rage till tears filled her eyes. And then I would feel sorry again. But it would be too late; the deed done.

She told her sister- she always told her everything.  My aunt warned me severely.

‘Don’t you know that she is sick?’ she’d said. I melted at those words. ‘Instead of you to be helping her you are adding to her stress. Oya, what if she dies now?’

I had cried again that night. And the night after that. I cried because I loved her so-no matter how many times she insulted or beat me, I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.

She sat me down one day.

‘I’m sorry.’ She said. Quietly.

I looked into her eyes, she wasn’t looking at me.

‘Even mama has complained about me. She has told me that I’ve been behaving harshly. Rude even.’

I didn’t actually think she would apologize. My parents never did. Beating and spanking was part of life; who are you that they would apologise to?

But this wasn’t her normal disciplinary ways. She was too strict, too impatient, too distrusting. I remembered when she drove me to my friend’s house and got so mad because I couldn’t remember how the house looked.

‘Why are you lying? Ehn Deborah? Why are you a liar?’ she’d asked yelling in the car after I had told her that it was a bungalow when it actually was a duplex. I started crying then, because I couldn’t just hold it in, the accusation was too raw, so uncalled for. It was like she was a different person.

I had been walking on eggshells ever since she revealed her sickness to me.

But now she was apologising.

‘I’m sorry.’ She said again, ‘you hear? Your daddy said it’s the drugs. Some side effects.’

I nodded wanting her apology to be over, I didn’t deserve it; she was the sick one. She had nothing to be sorry for.

‘And I’ve been very afraid. I get very irritable a lot. Everything is very annoying. But I would try okay? I would try.’

‘But mummy, you don’t have it again ba? They removed it when they did your surgery?’ I asked. The sides of her lips went down.

‘Mmnhh. let’s just say that the worst is over my dear. Don’t worry, I feel fine and I’m not going to die by God’s grace.’ She wrapped her thin hands around me and I moved to snuggle with her on her bed. She laughed slightly, rubbing my arms gently. I felt so happy and yet so sad. ‘It’s okay, me I’m just glad that it’s when I’ve given birth to all of you. It’s not like I need to breast feed again.’

‘I’m sorry mummy’ I whispered into her neck, she rubbed the more. ‘I’m sorry. I love you. Nothing would happen.’ my voice was shaking and she noticed.

‘It’s okay now, Ehn stop crying. As long as you people are happy in life, then that is my joy.’ She sniffed.

I fell asleep in her arms that afternoon, her warmth blanketing me.

It wasn’t jolly after that, no instant miracles. But God remained faithful. Whenever she went for check-up she wouldn’t come back with bad news, instead with a little relief. She grew thin. And her hair was shaved. But she was still more beautiful than ever because of her radiant smile and compassion. Because of her love and never ending faith in God.

She grew healthier too. My father had discovered the secret power of carrot juice. And it worked beautifully as they took it every morning. It was even more effective than her drugs. Our diet changed in that house, we ate the necessities and did away with the unhealthy.

I had asked God before if she was dying and I thought I had heard his answer. But I hear it clearly every day now.

No she isn’t, she’s more alive than ever.


This entry was submitted as part of the Nigerian Voices competition organized by YNaija.com.

We publish, un-edited, Nigerians telling the stories of their everyday lives. Read all the narratives daily on the Nigerian Voices vertical. You can also contribute your own story titled ‘Nigerian Voices’ to [email protected].

Leave a reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

cool good eh love2 cute confused notgood numb disgusting fail