we do not want others to find out. The big guy upstairs must be
shocked times without number at what His creations in His image do in
the sanctuaries of their secrets. Why we do not want anyone to see or
know our hidden things is because at the core of our conscious we know
that it is a sin yet we continue giving excuses for it.
Some people think that if others are not seeing them then God is not
seeing them too. uhmm typical of a human mind. I tell you there will
be drama at the judgement day.
What my eyes saw, paralyzed my heart with fear and shock. I couldn't
sponge the sight before me without feeling faint and a desire to throw
up. Viyegzo was lying in the pool of her own blood while wrapping the
baby in tattered cloths with all her remaining strength.
" i will kill you if you utter a word to anyone" i could barely hear
her voice. My childish mind told me that something was amiss. i walked
backwards and looked if i could find someone to help. It was all
silent. I started running fast to find my mum. I run all the way as if
the wind itself carried me. I found her and breathlessly narrated my
ordeal. My mum was so shocked and pale.
She shouted for Viyegzo's mum in the neighboring field and together
with other women we started off. Her mum continue wailing all the way
as if there was a funeral. sometimes i don't understand why women wail
like that. Whether in earnest or in pretense you can never notice the
difference or else go ask Nigerian actors they know best.
We were finally home. The women went to the bathroom as i had said but
Viyegzo was not there and it was spotless. Naah if you could see how
these women insulted my mum for raising a liar and spoilt kid like me
, you would think they got paid for it. How could i have spoken things
that were not worthy of me at my age? Viyegzo's mum said her dear
daughter had left for her friend's place at the neighboring village
earlier that morning and she had actually seen her off.
She shouted at my mum that we were on a mission to destroy her
family's reputation because we were jealous of her daughter's success
hence i would never see the corridors of a secondary school. That
broke my mum.
What happened to Viyegzo is another story for another day.
Since that day, it was like i had initiated myself in trouble. We
carried on very well. I could beat and bully my classmates at school
and defied my teachers to the extent of banning me to attend most of
their lessons eventually i failed examinations and repeated three
times in Standard 5. When we went to the lake swimming and washing
with my friends, i could hide their clothes until dark.
They would be going back home naked and crying. It used to give me
amusement and satisfaction to see them suffer. The beating i would get
from my dad later on sometimes made me think he was not my real
father.
My mum was outside peeling cassava to make Kondowole flour for our
nsima while my dad was at the lake mending fishing nets with his
friends and i knew they would not be back anytime soon.
I saw that opportunity as perfect to go in their room and find what i
could steal. I went through my mum's purses and handbags but i did not
find anything i liked. A hymn book and a new testament bible were not
my 'thing'. I searched my dad's pockets but found his tobacco and
medicine for his cough. I never understood what pleasure he found in
that smelly stuff. The tobacco was draining him sip by sip but he was
too stubborn to see it. I looked in their traveling bag. excitement
coursed in my blood as i touched something papery at the bottom and
knew instantly what it was. Money and a lot of it.
These people were cruel. The previous day my dad had refused to pay
money for the book i had torn to tatters when my classmate refused to
borrow it to me.Now what was this? I decided to tech him a lesson by
taking all the money and spend it on those sweet candies i loved the
following day at the market. I stuffed all the notes in my p@nties and
smothered the bulge which was showing. I smiled to myself.
I turned to go.
"Wangu uchitanji munu?" (What are you doing here Wangu?)
It was my father……………….
To be continued…
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