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I just can’t stop mourning my mother’s loss. Expectedly, my bitter feeling is mainly because she won’t be recompensed for her troubles on my siblings and I. The circumstances that led to my departure from home even made the feeling worse. Strangely, I became stronger, both physically and mentally. I forced my way out of sick bed. I was desperate to get home to be with my siblings. I even held back the tears, at some point Bade became scared for me. On our trip to Akure to retrieve her corpse he said to me,
“It’s okay to man up, but it is better to cry. I know you Kunle. You are a very emotional person. I don’t know how to place the look on your face. I should be happy that you aren’t torn apart physically, but then you are bottling up so much pain within you. It is okay to talk about it.”
I just sat transfixed without uttering a word of reply to all he said. There was no doubt about the fact that I fought a war within me and I was greatly confused. The question “what next?” kept strolling through my thoughts. How to take care of my siblings was my immediate concern. I wasn’t prepared to shoulder such responsibility. I never thought mum would die and leave us in a situation like this. As if death warns before creating anguish. The burden of unemployment weighed on my soul. I had hoped this phase of my future will tarry a little longer, I guess the mountain came to Mohammed this time.
*****
On our arrival at Owena from Akure, about 50 people were gathered outside our compound to mourn with us. Emeka and Morenike have been around since mother was admitted. I was shocked to realize that none of my mother’s siblings were there. Haven’t they been told? Bisi explained to Bade that she called her elder brother that resides in Akure before anyone else. Why wasn’t he here yet? Even when we arrived at the mortuary earlier none of them was available. All thanks to Bade who helped with settling all the outstanding bills. The poor boy took an impromptu permission from work just to be with me. I was courageous enough to open a condolence register. I concluded in my mind that it was the only way to connect with my mother. I was eager to read what everyone had to say about her while imagining her with such beautiful memories. Nonetheless I was a coward when it came to filling it; I just couldn’t fathom what to write.
When none of our relatives showed up at sunset, Bade and Emeka proposed that we bury mama first thing the following day. They bought a coffin, 2 shovels and a digger. As we dug I poured my anger on the soil with every dig I made and sighed at intervals. I stayed awake beside mama’s corpse all night and when the first cock crow I began to clean and prepare her for burial. At exactly 9a.m she was let into the ground with our parish pastor conducting the interment service, and that was the point when I erupted into tears. It became very obvious that I had seen her last. Like a flash all the memories of her since I was a toddler came to me; her beautiful face, smile, advice, discipline and care. My hands vibrated as I poured sand on her coffin. A quick reminder of how at the age of 15 I did the same for papa. That’s it; the fatherless is now an orphan. Emeka and Bade struggled to hold Bisi and Tayo back as they wailed. Then I broke my silence, “where do I start from?”
*****
At noon Morenike finally persuaded my siblings to eat the food she brought; they hadn’t eaten in 24 hours. As for me I had no appetite. Bade returned to Ibadan immediately after the burial so he could resume the afternoon shift at work; he worked as a lab attendant at the University College Hospital. Emeka stayed with me as he tried to distract me from being sad. He served as the elder brother I never had. While we sat in the backyard Tayo came to inform me that my uncle was around. I was furious at the news and was prepared to rain curses on him for ignoring Bisi’s emergency call and letting mama die. I stood up and approached the house but Morenike came from behind and blocked my path,
“Kunle calm down. Don’t do anything stupid.” I chuckled sarcastically and assured her that I would not, but she wasn’t satisfied.
“I understand how terrible you feel, but you can’t afford to create a chaotic aura by exchanging words with your uncle. I think it is best to be diplomatic about it. It is okay to ask why he wasn’t at the hospital or why he didn’t make it here earlier. Do you understand?”
“No problem” I replied,
“By the way you are bleeding on your pant. A nail must have spiked you as you stood up from the bench. You should clean it up before seeing your uncle,” she concluded and moved away from my path. I became weak as I remembered how I had been raped. It wasn’t a nail that spiked me, it was one of the bruises that became fresh again as I glided my buttocks on the bench. How do I tell her I was raped?
*****
Silence ensued in the room for about 3 minutes after exchanging greetings and condolences with my uncle. I tried to keep my calm as Morenike had advised, but something tripped within me when I saw my uncle crying. “What’s with the crocodile tears?” I whispered to myself. I patiently waited for everyone to exit the sitting room before expressive my grief,
“Uncle, I will not feel good with myself if I don’t tell you this. If you had visited the hospital when Bisi called maybe mother will still be alive. You ignored her call and waited until she was put to rest before showing up here. I honestly don’t see the essence of this visit.”
“I am sorry son” he muttered but I shut him up before he could say another word, “sorry? Tell me sir, will sorry bring mama back? I used to think you were the most reasonable of all her siblings but right now I doubt that. What coward will fold his hands and wait for his sister’s death? Uncle, let your conscience be the judge but I won’t hesitate to tell you that it is unfair.”
I have never seen my uncle thundered the way he did when he replied me, “do you actually think you have the right to speak to me in this rude manner or judge me?” his tone heightened with anger, “what have your father’s relative done for you since he died? For 12 years none of them has cared to see how you are faring. When they ejected you from his house in Akure, I was the one who gave up my house here in Owena for you people. When they labeled my sister a witch I was the one who shared the shame with her, not even you. Were you so young and naïve that you cannot remember all these? Yet you sit there, look me in the eye and talk to me anyhow. What an ungrateful fool that you are. I said I was sorry and you thought capitalizing on that was the right thing to do?”
He took a deep breath and the tears that had dried up began to flow on his face again. I became speechless.
“If you are so interested in knowing why I wasn’t there for your mother, I will tell you. I was retrieving my first son and last born, your cousin’s corpse from the mortuary. He was attacked and butchered by cultists on campus. We both have our pain son, he was my only son. Tell me, should I have done better?”
He rose up from the chair as I tried to give my apologies, “I am so sorry uncle.”
“There is nothing to be sorry about boy. But you need to learn how to manage pain. I am returning to Akure to be with my wife.”
He walked out of the room, then I realized Morenike had been eavesdropping on our conversation. She walked up to me, knelt down and hugged me as she echoed “It’s not your fault, all will be well dear.”
I cried like a baby in her hands and spilled my grief, “I was raped in Ibadan.”
TO BE CONTINUED...
Written By Femi Fragile
IG: @femifragile
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