It was a beautiful evening with the perfect
atmosphere for an evening walk engendered
with my being indoors all through the day and a
need for ‘fresh unction’. Got into something
that’d provide me with the needed comfort for
the walk, headphones on, phones carefully
placed on the table- battery on 10% courtesy of
epileptic power supply- won’t need it anyways. I
set out on my journey.
The road was less busy and I wondered why as
I walked on. Random thoughts flowing in and
out of my small head as I listen to Asa’s 360,
for some reasons, I stopped by ‘mama frank’s’
shop for a little chat.
A child barely 16 years old sitting alone,
thinking about what exactly? I asked myself.
Why is she not playing with her mates? Well,
maybe she’s sick or not in the mood or maybe
she’s just an introvert, I concluded.
Continued my chat half-heartedly while a part
of me was with this child. I dismissed the
thoughts of talking to her and instead, put on
my headphones. Mali Music’s No Fun Alone
was playing and I finally decided to try having a
conversation with this child.
Had the most awkward start of a conversation
for the first time in forever but I started still.
Somehow along the line, after gaining her trust,
I asked if she could walk with me. Few minutes
away from our place of contact, she asked if I
could get her something to eat like ‘gala’. I
reached into the pockets of my joggers and I
found a crisp note just sufficient to get
something ‘healthy’ to munch. I got into this
habit of going out with money no matter how
small courtesy of my mum who would always
tell us – my siblings and I – to do so just in
case we crash into a careless egg seller and
we have to pay for the damages caused.
I brought out the money and looked around for
a place to get food, not just biscuits but real
food. I found a restaurant and we got in
together, I ordered for food and two bottles of
drink. I watched her devour every morsel of
food in a speed of lightening. Smiling at interval
when our gazes met. I loved that feeling; she
was comfortable with me already, just what I
needed.
“I’m an orphan”, she said. Not like I lost both
parents but I’m in no way different from an
orphan.
“My mum died when she was giving birth to
what was meant to be her last child, we lost
both mother and child” she said with teary
eyes. I prepared myself for the coming wave of
emotions. My dad remarried almost
immediately as he claimed we needed a
mother-figure around the house. She continued
with what is commonly portrayed in Nollywood
home videos while I listened with rapt
attention, breaking the transmission with
occasional sips from my bottle of coke (huh!
Coke addict). She continued on and on and on
till she got to the point where she had to be
transferred to her mum’s sister.
Apparently, her uncle (aunty’s husband) did not
like her when she arrived at first and I can’t
stop asking myself why. “He hated me badly
and didn’t want me around. My aunty and her
husband have quarrelled severally based on the
matter. I’ve heard her pleading with him to let
me stay with them for sometime till they are
able to get an alternative. I cried myself to
sleep on such events. My aunty is the only
close relative I know” she said.
“I was happy when one day my uncle came
back from work and called every one of us
together and gave us gifts. I slept well that
night for the first time in a very long while. My
uncle’s attitude changed towards me and
everyone saw it. Peace was restored to the
house and stayed around for quite a long time
till… one day, while my aunty was away and my
uncle called me in to help him run an errand…
and… and…
At this point, I whispered let it not be what I’m
thinking please…
“And… he… he… raped me forcefully” this was
her exact words. As if raping her wasn’t
enough, it was forceful. I could only imagine.
At this point, she couldn’t hold it anymore so I
just allowed her cry till she had her fill. With my
head bowed, I don’t like the sight of tears.
“He does it every day especially when my aunty
is not around, it’s a normal routine”
How long has it been going on now? I asked.
“For over a year now” she replied. How come
nobody knows about it? “He threatened me not
to tell anybody and besides, nobody would
believe” so why are you telling me? “Because I
trust you and I know you believe me and
besides, I just think someone else should know
about it.” I literally died on that spot. More
questions, more tears, couple of emotions…
Masking my emotions with a sincerely fake
smile, I asked her with all the strength I could
gather, hoping for a sincere answer to help me
provide help from anywhere or somewhere…
and all she said was “I want nothing else, I just
want to be a child again” I heard my heart
break into pieces, and for a couple of minutes,
I experienced what it felt like to be deaf and
dumb and numb. I had a warm bath with my
own tears.
Awkward silence filled the atmosphere and
stayed around for close to three minutes. I had
to break the silence. She had stopped crying
and had a beautiful smile on her face. I noticed
her dimple.
It was 6:30pm and I said to her, we need to
start going. Remember we have a long way
back. She laughed and I noticed her perfect
dentition. We walked back and she sang along
as she listened to Coat of Many Colours and I
was awed by her beautiful voice. I couldn’t hide
my expression and I told her out rightly. We
got to our ‘place of contact’ and we had to part
ways. I walked her down to a safe place and
promised to see her again. She gave me back
my headphones, I told her she could keep it but
due to reasons best known to her, she declined
and returned it instead. Hugging her, I told her
to run along as it’s getting late. I could see the
tears in her eyes and I looked away. You’ll be
fine, I reassured her. Hope to see you again,
she said.
It took me about an hour before I got to my
house. My heart was heavy and I kept
wondering. My sleep that night? I sacrificed it
to the gods of insomnia. Tossed from one
corner of the bed to another. All I could mutter
was “help her, save her”.
One month later and I’ve not heard from her
and neither have I crossed path with her nor
ran into her, I decided to ask around and I got
the shocker of my life.
“She don die na” I giggled and replied “that kyn
thing, na so person dey take die?” “no be that
girl wey una two follow waka that day” I was
nodding my head at the mention of every word
that the Agama lizard became jealous as I did
it better. “that girl wey get dimple like when you
dip your finger inside plate of eba?” I wish I
could laugh, but it wasn’t funny at all. “Ah, she
don die since two weeks now”.
“no vex o, wetin kill her? She sick abi wetin?” I
inquired.
The woman, apparently in the mood of gossip,
replied “No wahala, I no vex. The story long sha
but the end be say she do abortion e come get
K leg. E hook am for night and before dem go
reach hospital, she don kpoof.”
I was cold and I manifested symptoms
immediately. I threw up twice and I was
greeted with different forms of sorry. Some in
solo form and some came in chorus; some in
part and some in unison. I had to go home
before I died of overdose of ‘oral sorry’.
The walk home was forever and I took a bike
to hasten my 10 minutes walk home. I cried
that night and nights after. It was too much for
me to handle. We didn’t get to see again
(sobs).
And when I found out her name was Chinedu –
my name sake…
AH!!!
The end!
By Faith Chibuogwu
