by Oluwaseyi Ige

The coal at the fireplace was smouldering and the cold was descending gradually as the last rays of the sun ducked behind the dark clouds. The sound of speeding cars on the expressway was a contrast to the otherwise stillness of the surroundings. She could tell the type of cars as they sped by. Heavy duty trucks grumbling under the weight they carry, smaller cars and the whine of their engines, and the occasional distinct croaking of the small buses with bad exhaust that ferry the hapless traders to and fro the towns and villages on market days. Everyone seems to be in a hurry to get somewhere, but for her, it’s time to slow down or even stop completely from running from herself. Her life.

She moved her stool closer to the fire, and closer to Mama, it always seems warmer near her. Life has always been bearable with Mama around. She is surely a gift from God. The dark clouds have taken over the skies, and the stars are still scared of coming out. Not that their light is good enough to see by, but at least they show that it is not all gloom and doom when it’s dark. She considered laying her head on Mama’s shoulders, but decided against it. ‘Let the old woman rest’, she thought to herself. Instead, she adjusted the wrapper to cover all of her legs and feet, as a shield against the prying insects and mosquitoes. It is not so much the bite that scares her, but the lesion and itching that follows, much into the second day.

It may even rain tonight. But that’s not a problem. She ensured the leaky roof was fixed the last time she came around. She would have been worried about the rain if she had been in the city. It is a different ballgame anytime it rains in Ajah. You will need boats to get home. Dinner had been prepared and consumed – Amala with gbegiri and eweedu, and it always taste the same all the time since she was a small girl. Mama had always cooked that soup the same way. She still will not use any condiment other than iru, and did she know how to cook! She took more than she would have normally eaten, cheered on by the large chunks of bush meat and smoked fish. Now she will have to wait for her digestive enzymes to act on the food before bedtime. Not that anyone is in a hurry to turn in for the night. Sleep, if it will happen tonight, will have to come much later. What has brought her to the village has already taken so much sleeping hours from her in the last few months, since she came home for Baba’s burial. She almost did not come. Before that, she stayed away for 2 years. How could she even think about missing the burial? Baba is the world to everyone in the family. Her big uncle, the first son of her father’s siblings. He assumed the leadership of the clan during her grandfather’s protracted illness. By the time Baba Agba passed on, everyone knew he was in charge. Patriarch, benefactor, spiritual guardian and counsellor. His word is law. He seemed to know everything. Bold and courageous. People said he stood up to the white man when he was but a boy, and got away with it. He is larger than life, but maybe not death. If he were alive, she would not be here sitting beside Mama. She would not be deciding to do all she had come to tell Mama tonight. She won’t even entertain the thought. But she has a mission. It won’t be easy, but it has to be done. Who says difficult things should be left till later anyway? Even if it meant starting all over, she has to do it. Starting over is something she has gotten so good at.

The night wore on and the sound from the expressway grew louder and fewer between. They were chatting as they cleaned up after the meal. Gradually they came to more serious matters. Mama had been waiting since after the meal for her to state her purpose. Kamisi will not just visit so soon after the burial. There must be a reason. While she prepared the meal, the questions kept flowing: Has she found the one? Is she settling down again? Did she lose her job? What could it be? She could not put her finger on one.

“Mama, when last did you hear from Booda mi?” Being her only sibling, she always refer to him as booda mi, preferring that to any other name.

“Ha, it’s been a while o. Tumi said he had not called since the burial.”

“Did you try calling him?”

“Why should I? I’ve decided to stop calling him. If he thinks all I said during the burial was too much, then so be it. I’m tired of waiting on him like a small baby. I want to go to my grave with fewer things to worry about.”

“Mama, I’ve told you, stop talking like this. You won’t die now. You’re still young. I’m still planning to marry you off to some big man on my street”. Kamisi said with a smile.

“No problem, if the bride price is right, but he’ll pay to me, and that will be before I say yes.”

“Hmmm. Fine girl. Only that one? Ha. Ase e tie le! I told you he’s rich. I’ll arrange that. Don’t worry.”

Mama’s face glowed in the dark. She enjoys Kamisi’s compliments every time. Maybe because she means them, or maybe it is true. She’s her only source of joy.

“I called him in the bus on my way here, and he sent his regards”. Kamisi lied. Though they spoke, he didn’t bother to ask after Mama. He had left angrily after Baba’s burial. All entreaties to settle the quarrel had fallen on deaf ears. He lives in his own world. He has been blaming everyone, including his father for the accident.

“Regards? Let him keep it.” Mama replied, the beginnings of a frown caressing her face.

Kamisi regretted the lie immediately. She should have kept quiet. But she was only trying to help, to make peace between the warring parties. Now that she’s here again, she should do all she ought, because by the time she carries her bag day after tomorrow, it will be a long time before returning. They fell into an uneasy silence.

“So, how is Tumi doing?” she asks Mama, to break the tension already swelling up.

“He’s okay. His teacher says he should be able to pass this time around”

“Well, he better not fail again. Twice beaten already. Many of his mates in the city are planning to write their WAEC”. Tumi had attempted the common entrance examination thrice already. They had to find him a lesson teacher from Akungba after he failed the second attempt.

“Maybe you should still talk to him before you go.”

“I will. I’ll drum some sense into that big head of his”. She swallowed hard. How will she tell Mama she had come to take Tumi away, permanently? She looked at her face in the dark. Even at her age, she doesn’t look bad at all. Kamisi knew she obviously took her good looks from her mother. Its been a blessing and a curse for her, though. In another clime and life, Mama could have been a beauty queen, married to the Prince in a large ceremony, just like she reads in those books. Mama deserves the best life has to offer. But that is not to be. Her father had doted on Mama since they were kids, and had helped her do her chores several times in neglect of his own, earning him punishments he gladly carries out. The same birth attendant had taken their deliveries just days apart, with him coming first. They literally grew together and became best of friends. At the standard school they attended, they were called brothers and sisters, and they never cared to clear the air that they weren’t related. After Standard six, her father had gone to Ogbomoso as an apprentice driver on a truck, while she stayed behind to learn cloth weaving. She later delved into petty trading and had the store with widest variety of exotic goods at the village park. Every car and truck had to pass through there, and she makes good business. Her father returned after his apprenticeship and met a full grown, self confident and beautiful lady. Of course, there had been many men asking her hand in marriage, but she had refused them all, saying she would want to get married to a teacher, or a government worker, who can speak good English and who will take her to the ends of the earth. Though her father then had his own bus, a Toyota Liteace, Mama still won’t bulge, even when he proposed to her. It took him two full years to convince her. And when they got married, it was the talk of the town. Her father’s business expanded and they left to live in Kano, the commercial capital of the North.

It was the accident that changed everything. Everything. He was returning from the village where he had gone to oversee the roofing of his house, a modern-designed 3 bedroom flat. The brakes failed at Kawo Kudi, on the outskirts of Kano. Everybody had thought he was going to die from the injury. But he survived. He fought the pain from multiple surgeries on his leg, neck, and ear to return to a semblance of normalcy. Much resource was spent, and he soon went back to work. Now he can’t drive anymore and had lost hearing in his left ear completely, he still managed to get work at the transport union’s office as the clerk. The stroke came unexpectedly. Mama was devastated. Her provision store was barely surviving, and now, he requires round-the-clock care. She decided the best thing to do was to return to Idogun, as their relatives will lend a helping hand. Baba took them in and gave them a room at the other building. His father’s house that had just been roofed and was uninhabitable. Kamisi was 4, and her brother 9.

Baba tried all he could, took him as far as Adeoyo hospital, Ibadan, after exhausting all local options. He had to bring him back home. His condition did not improve. He died 18 months after arriving Idogun. He was buried outside his uncompleted building. Everyone had a kind word for the widow. But that was as far as it got. With nothing else to do, Mama went back to selling. She toured the neighbouring towns and villages with her wares on her head. She wasn’t doing badly. Then she got another shop near the main road, and continued selling. But things began to change at Idogun. First, the main park fizzled out, and the young people migrated to Akungba, just north of the village. The change began with the creation of the local government, with the headquarters cited at Akungba. Also, the newly completed expressway had directed all major traffic through Akungba, with the road passing through the south-east end of Idogun. The village’s economy dwindled, and only the very young and very old were left. An occasional pick up will pass through the now very dilapidated main road as it makes it way with farm produce towards the expressway.

Kamisi summoned the courage to press ahead. No going back now.

“Mama, there is something I want to tell you. I don’t know how you will take it, but I’ve thought about it very well, and that’s why I came down today.” She looked past her mother’s face into the darkness beyond her, focusing on the flicker of light from the kerosene lantern on the kitchen table.

“Oko mi, go ahead I’m listening.” She said. ‘This must be serious,’ she thought to herself.

“It is about Tumi. I feel it will be better if he follows me when I’m leaving. I want to take him with me to the city”.

***To be Continued

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Oluwaseyi Ige is an OAP with Radio Nigeria. He has been a media consultant since 2006. He is dedicated to using the media as a tool for moral reformation. He’s the author of Making your Life Count, The Early Tertiary Days. He does public speaking, writing and compère. He  blogs at www.thisveryseyi.blogspot.com.