“You did what?” Olumide asked
quietly. His face was masked; she couldn’t read what was going on inside and
feared this was the calm before the storm. She took a gulp of air to steady her
shaking nerves. Even then, she stammered a little, “I...I… didn’t know what to
do”.
”Then
you should have done nothing”, he said this with a rising tempo, as he stood up
and began to pace the living room. He turned to face her, and she could
practically feel the heat of his wrath, mixed with an incredulous look as
though it just dawned on him the implications of her revelation. “Who gave you
the right to murder our child, do I know you at all, and how could you be so
selfish?” Uju rose up too, angry to think she had done this for him; she had
been going through the nightmares for this. Yes, she had aborted the baby, thinking
that it was a secret she would keep to her grave. After all countless women did
it, even so called Christians, who condemned the act in others, but
conveniently found excuses when found in the same shoes. She had thought it
chivalrous of her to spare him the burden of sharing the guilt with her, and he
was asking who gave her the right. “So is this about getting permission from
you?”, She had barely landed the statement, when he pounced on her, shaking her
so vigorously as though to shake folly out of her. “Permission, permission, are
you kidding me, you committed murder and you think it’s about asking for
permission, what are you, a heartless beast, your own child, you are a
Christian for crying out loud!” He left her suddenly and she fell backwards
against the sofa. She felt a sharp pain run through her spine at the impact,
but she was only too glad to be free of his vise-like grip; each word, with
accompanying higher intensity had left her scared he would move his hands from
her arms to her neck and squeeze the life of her, while she gasped for breath,
but he would not notice until she was limp and long gone. Her hands went
unconsciously to her neck and she began to cry as she wondered if that was how
her baby had struggled for life under the scalpel of the butcherer.
It
served her right, hadn’t she seen in Nigerian movies how aborted children came
back to haunt their mothers, why had she always boiled it down to the
over-imaginative mind of the writer or superstitious tales of grandmothers trying to encourage
over-population in Africa?
“Do
stop those crocodile tears of yours, even Judas wept after betraying Jesus. How
did you even get pregnant in the first place, were you not on pills? He asked
as he looked at her with absolute disgust and contempt. She replied in between
tears, “I was, it probably failed or something”. Her voice trailed away as
Olumide sneered. “Sure it failed or you were careless with your dosage?”
She
could not bear the contempt in his eyes and voice anymore. Why do
women always bear the brunt of every bad situation, why
was she always at fault, she definitely didn’t impregnate herself. She sat up,
and asked him coldly, “is this all my fault, why didn’t you opt for vasectomy
when you knew you didn’t want kids any more, why should the woman be
responsible every time for family planning? If you truly intended to be
faithful to me, why didn’t you simply do something about it yourself? By now,
her voice was heated up and the bitterness she had piled up since Sophie’s
birth came gushing out like a burst dam. “Not interested in boys, not
interested in children”, her hands making the quote sign in the air while
mimicking his voice hysterically, why did you not shut off the tap”, pointing
at the direction of his
crotch. It’s always Uju, always Uju, Uju this, Uju that, why did you agree to
try again for a boy the last time, if you were so averse to the idea of a son?!
She stopped abruptly as she saw a rapid change in his look. She had hit a raw
nerve and struck below the belt. He moved slowly towards her, his fist
clenched, his face twisted in a fixed distorted look full of hatred when a
car’s horn sounded at the gate. He looked briefly at the window without stopping,
while her gaze was riveted on his every move. This was her opportunity to escape
whatever was about to happen; it definitely didn’t look good, but she couldn’t
move. She seemed stuck to the chair, then the horn came to her rescue. It was
long and persistent this time… The horn… Uju snapped out of her pensive
preoccupation. She was seated at the dining table, where she had paused to rest
after setting the table for her husband, she was going to tell him today…
“Mummy,
mummy, daddy is back”?? Ife was tugging at her; the horn had obviously woken
her up from her nap after school. The horn sounded again, this time short and
impatient. She stood up quickly and hurried to the door, her heart beating fast.
Ololade Okedare has a degree in Physiotherapy from Obafemi Awolowo University and is a writer (screen and prose) by profession. She is passionate about women empowerment, family institution, child rights and social justice. She is deep rooted in her Christian faith and has a platform where she mentors young women. She is an alumnus of Orange Academy and currently running her post-graduate programme in media and journalism at the Pan African University. She is married to her beloved Fiyinfolu.
No comments:
Post a Comment