Shackles

Kate hated the idea of marriage. She had seen marriage for what she thought it was; hell. For her, marriage was synonymous with ceramic plates. They get shattered into shreds when they fall from a height. She also knew this about marriage – it always started like a sweet gentle breeze, but in no time, grow bitter like a lemon.

As she sat on the cemented floor, her heart filled with sadness, she knew that the hull of her marriage had hit an iceberg. In her muffled cries, she could still feel the draft, slipping through the windows. She paid little or no attention to the cold since it couldn't be helped. With her hands and legs tied, she couldn't possibly have done anything. She thought of ways to escape, but in the end, her mind sank into despair; stark empty as the room itself, with a musky scent of abandonment. 

A shuffle in the hallway broke the long silence. Her pupils dilated, as she struggled furiously her screams muffled by the thick gag around her mouth. She felt a pang of fear rising in her heart and her ribs rose and fell in quick successions. She knew it was about to happen. Death was just some centimetres away from the door.

She knew how it would all end. Her husband would march in with men dressed in red robes. On his order, they would carry her to an unknown location. They would slit her throat on their secret altar. After that, they would heave a sigh of relief because the eyes that have seen and the tongue that would have exposed their secret would be no more. She would cease to be a threat to them.

Kate cringed at this thought. She regretted the fateful night –when she had unknowingly let out a terrified scream upon discovering the dark secret. It was indeed a night she would never forget. It was the night she was scrubbing the room he forbade her to enter. That night, she saw a lifeless woman in the wardrobe. The woman stood erect like an effigy. She was dressed in a white robe and red, blood streaks coursed the insides of the wardrobe. The dead woman's hollow eyes stared blankly at Kate and the skin on her cheek sunk deep into the bones. Kate had screamed some more and her had husband appeared.  

A chubby man whose upper lips bore a dense moustache. His head nearly went bald, save for the thin line of hair that spanned the edges. 

She shook her head with the intention to stifle the thought, but it was only replaced with another. Her mother's voice came alive to her ears. It broke through the deathly silence that reigned in the room.  

“A man like that is every woman's dream,” her mother’s voice rang, “God forbid. You will not bring shame to this family,” she continued, a designer lace fabric Kate’s suitor had bought for her swung across her left shoulder. 

Kate sneered as she sprang from the small wooden bench to stand akimbo. 

Her mother’s hand rose to face her, brandishing a fat black key. “Just to ask your hand in marriage and we own a Prado SUV already,” she paused a bit as if she was choosing her words “you have rejected a good number of suitors and that's enough. I will not allow it this time,” an edge of anger in her voice.  

What started as a shuffle birthed tons of thumping steps. They knocked Kate off her thoughts. The louder the thumping steps, the clearer Kate could picture her death. She was married off to a ritualist. It would have been better if she was married to a wife batterer. Her parent's house would have beckoned and she would have answered. More tears rolled down her cheeks.  

She gazed at the greasy walls with a frown. How she wished the walls had a mouth to swallow her and at least hide her from the impending doom. Her fear grew once again. She sought invisibility. She wished for nothing, but to stay alive. She could feel the cold hands of death. Her transition to the other side of life was just a stone throw. 

With the jangling of keys and the fitting of one into its hole, the door creaked open. She felt her heart jump into her stomach. With what her eyes met, a crease of confusion formed on her face. The men that trooped in were not on red robes but a khaki uniform. She recognized the man that appeared to be apprehended as her husband. Lines of blood trickled from his head into his black pants. His bare chest displayed dense hair which had been forced to lay down by the caked blood.  

Her eyes swelled with hope as her hands and legs got loosened. 

A huge man offered a hand and she rose to her feet. She was going to say thank you, but heard her tongue asked, “Please, how did you find me?” 

Her question was met with silence, but a gentle smile appeared on her face on seeing Ikay; the gateman. He was smiling sheepishly in the green T-shirt Kate had bought for him some days back. The small device in his hand had triggered Kate’s smile. It was a voice recorder Kate had once gifted him.

By Chukwuebuka Harrison

Odomagana

“Odomagana is a spirit,” they would say

He sat in Papa’s favourite sitting spot in the small hut, clad in a white singlet. He looked at me frowning. “Do you need a hard kick in the ass before you will go and bring the remaining oranges?” my uncle asked before he buried his squinted eyes in the orange he was peeling. 

What is this man even saying? I muttered under my breath. Does it mean that his mind could not read the possibility of Ikebunekpe lurking behind the drum of water opposite the orange tree? or Eveghuri prowling around the stacked mould of blocks very close to the orange tree? 

It was the season for the masquerades and the two masquerades –Ikebunekpe and Eveghuri are commonly known to chase children around with long whips. If I had feared anything about them, it was their long whips and their cackles. The long tortuous mark the whip had left on Chiamaka's back rented a space in my memory. Okechukwu, Mcdon and Christian still bore the fearful marks too. Masquerades are regarded as spirits in these parts and if a spirit could flog a human, the marks the whip would leave on the human’s skin should be spiritual marks and I wasn’t ready to bear such marks. 

I stared at papa's face, searching for any trace of creases or twitches, any sign at all to show he was not serious. His demeanour was stoic. He wasn’t joking. Then I wondered why I didn’t follow mama to her friend’s place.  I wouldn't be facing this imminent danger had I gone with mama. My eyes fought not to look at him again. Any eye contact would poke his memory. Stretching my left hand, I snatched off the floor, an orange that had glided over to where I sat, my heart still beating with fear. I began to fumble with the orange, but it didn’t make him stop. He warned me again and this time he almost pounced on me like a rabid dog. 

I clucked before jumping up from the wooden stool, picked and emptied the little steel bowel beside him, then ambled outside. It was ghost quiet. My heart fluttered with each step that took me closer to the tree. The fact that the heat from the orange sun was still gentle to the skin, and there wasn’t any sign that it would drizzle made it more precarious. It was only the scorching heat of the sun or harsh rainfall that could keep the masquerade off the road. I often wondered how possible it was for a spirit to get drenched in water or burnt by the heat of the sun. I kept watchful eyes as I walked slowly closer to the orange tree, but started from time to time, looking over my shoulder to make sure no one was trailing me.

I got to the orange tree and there wasn’t any masquerade in sight. Heaving a sigh of relief, I threw my little steel bowel to the ground, squatted down and began to pick and drop the oranges into the bowl. One, two and three oranges picked. As I stretched my left hand to pick the fourth orange, a strange hand appeared from behind the tree and grabbed my hand with the orange. The strange hand became Ikebunekpe when I raised my eyes. I felt goosebumps flooding my skin. 

Even though there was vigour in my scream, I am sure it couldn't have risen above its loud cackle. In futility, I tried to pull out my hand. As I struggled furiously, my mouth got closer to its hand, and my teeth sank into its skin, making it flinch. Letting out a loud gasp of pain, it lost its grip. Picking up the steel bowl, I flung it at the masquerade and it landed squarely with a thud on its forehead. Its staggering bought me enough time to dive into the bush. As I ran deeper into the heart of the bush, my eyes quickly scanned the bush for any possible prowling masquerade, while I paid little or no attention to the sharp edges of dead grasses jabbing into my barefoot. When it was apparent that the ‘spirit’ must have disappeared, I paced as fast as possible back to the hut. 

When I narrated my ordeal that evening, they couldn’t help but laugh at me. 

That evening, my other Uncle came back with a wound on his forehead. The wound was fresh and conspicuous. It was like a pebble stuck under the skin of his forehead. When I asked him, he said it was an accident but he wouldn’t say the kind of accident it was. Our eyes kept locking that evening and each time they did, I would feel a pang of guilt. His eyes never stopped communicating this message, “See what you have done to me.”

Since he was never going to admit the fact that I almost blinded him, I kept my sympathy to myself, after all, I hit Ikebunekpe who was supposed to be a spirit in the face, not my uncle.

“Odomagana is a spirit,” they would say. 😂😂😂 

#CHA_writes.

By Chukwebuka Harrison Aninze

Chinedu 2

  

If I say that I was not scared, then I’d probably be the biggest liar on earth. But then, as human nature would be, we always try to give plausible excuses for situations or events which we do not understand. In the end, we even end up believing our own excuses, anything at all, just so that we would avoid facing our fears squarely. In my own case now, I just conveniently imagined that the whole episode did not take place. As far as I was concerned Nneoma did not wake me up that night to warn me of my impending miscarriage, neither did I hear her say that it was Chinedu who informed her about it. I simply chose to believe that I’d woken up that night to ease myself only to notice the blood. That was the only way I decided to address my fears, by lying to myself about it.

I called my next-door neighbor Ogechi, who also happened to be a gynaecologist. She rushed over to my house and managed to get me to the hospital within 15 minutes. But that was before we’d taken Nneoma over to Ogechi’s house to spend the rest of the night. She was so scared when she saw the blood and thought I would die too.  I was a bit shocked and confused at the same time. How could I not know that I was pregnant. I guess I was so deep in grief I didn’t even notice that I’d not seen my period for some time.

When we got to the hospital, the bleeding was contained and then with the help of the doctor on call, Ogechi ran a few tests. I had to spend the rest of the night at the hospital because the doctor told me it was the safest thing to do and I was still weak even though the pain had now reduced to a dull ache. I guess they must have given me something to reduce the pain. The baby was fine but I had to be careful not to stress myself. Ogechi sat down beside me and we talked for some time. She tried to counsel me, telling me to take it easy and to start taking care of myself. I was really grateful for all her words of encouragement but at the same time, I just wanted to be alone. Ogechi left me to my thoughts after promising to come back with Nneoma later in the day and to contact my sister Uchechi. I certainly did not want to inform my mother of the incident, at least not yet.

I must have fallen asleep immediately she left because the next thing I could remember was opening my eyes to see my sister sitting at the foot of the bed, tears streaming from her eyes. She quickly wiped her eyes as soon as she saw I was awake.

‘Uche, when did you arrive?’ I asked trying to sit up.
‘As soon as I heard.’ She replied rushing up to my side to help me up.
‘Chiamaka, how did this happen?’
I sighed. Should I tell her the truth? What would she say? How would she react?
‘I don’t know. I just woke up to ease myself at night and experienced a sharp pain on my tummy then I saw the blood…’  I lied to my sister and to myself.
‘God! How could this happen to you eh? Who is behind all these? God forbid bad thing! Our enemies will never succeed! Tufiakwa! ‘

I smiled weakly. Uchechi certainly knew how to blow up things. She always believed that people are out to get her for one thing or the other. Somehow, I needed her rage for it was a blessed distraction from the confusion which filled my mind at the moment. It was also a reminder that I shouldn’t tell her what happened between me and Nneoma earlier in the day. She’d definitely blow that out of proportion as well.

‘But, Chii…Have you told mommy?’
I shook my head quickly.
‘Please….not yet. You know she’s hypertensive and Ukadike’s death was a big blow to her’
‘Dike’s death was a big blow to all of us’ she reiterated shaking her head out of pity for me, ‘You most especially. I wonder why all these things are happening to you eh Chii?’
I was just about to tell her that it was the will of God and I’ve already accepted it that way when I heard Nneoma scream

‘Mommyyyyy!!’

She ran into the room, closely followed by Ogechi, and jumped on the bed hugging me tightly even before Uchechi could make an effort to stop her. I winced visibly as she hugged me but just so she wouldn’t see my face. Then she moved back and looked at me and said.
‘Mommy, I was so scared. I thought you were going to die.’ She said
I smiled as I pulled her cheek playfully.
‘I am not going anywhere for the next 100 years my dear. You are stuck with me for the rest of your life.’ And she laughed loudly and hugged me again. This time around, Uchechi pulled us apart quickly
‘Come and greet me young lady and leave your mother to rest I nugo?’
‘And how is our mama ejima this morning?’ Ogechi asked gaily.
‘I’m ok. We thank God’
‘Doctor, I don’t know how to thank you. If not for you, God knows what would have happened to my sister. May God bless you immensely?’ Uche addressed Ogechi full of appreciation.
‘Oh my sister, please. I was just doing my job. Nothing will happen to Chiamaka at all. It is not her portion.’

Ogechi left after making small talk. She also gave me a rundown of the test results. I was over three months pregnant, which means that I conceived shortly before Ukadike died. She suggested bed rest throughout the rest of the second trimester of the pregnancy and advised me not to stress myself at all. Ogechi came with some beverages which I took. I left the hospital the next day.

Uchechi came to stay with me for some time, she also helped to make arrangements for a nanny to take care of Nneoma and a housemaid to do the house chores. Things slowly slipped back to normal after a few weeks. Nneoma never talked about Chinedu again. I even tried getting her to tell me what really happened the night I almost miscarried, just out of curiosity, and all she said was that she couldn’t remember. When I asked her if she really did see Chinedu, she just stared at me without saying anything.

Two months later, I was up and about but still trying not to stress myself. All seemed to be going on quite well until one Saturday afternoon, I was coming from the kitchen after informing Ngozika, my housemaid, what to cook for dinner and was just about to pass Nneoma’s room when I heard her laughing loudly. Now, it wouldn’t have seemed strange at all if there was someone else in that room with her, but I was sure that she was in there alone.

I slowly tiptoed to her door and slightly opening the door just to a crack, I peered into the room. Nneoma was sitting on the floor, her back towards the door, staring into space and laughing happily. I’d never seen her this happy since the accident. It was as if she was lost in her own world where she was with a close friend and they had just shared a private joke. I watched her as she stopped laughing and cocked her head to one side as if to listen closely to what someone was whispering into her ear. They she suddenly threw back her head and laughed loudly

‘It will be a really good thing if you can do that, but she will never believe me if I tell her’, she said smiling
‘Who will never believe you if you tell her what?’ I couldn’t help myself as I asked suddenly stepping into the room. Nneoma started and turned around to face me slowly with the look of someone who’d been caught doing a very bad thing.
‘Mommy? I….I…’ she stammered and stopped.
‘Nneoma, who were you speaking to just now?’
She stared at me guiltily yet refused to speak.
‘Nneoma!! Can’t you hear me? I said who were you speaking to just now?’
‘Nobody mommy’
‘Shut up you liar! Tell me the truth before I slap you!’ I threatened her more out of fear than anger.

She still refused to speak. I didn’t even know when it happened but before I could explain it, I’d already smacked her hard on the cheek and was about to hit her again when she suddenly screamed loudly.
‘He said you’ll beat me if I tell you!’
‘Who said?’ I stopped.
‘Chinedu!’ She screamed tears were now streaming down her cheeks in tiny rivulets.
‘What are you talking about?’ I asked

A strange chill settled over me as my eyes quickly searched the room in fear, half expecting to find ghosts hidden all over in the room waiting to spring up on me at any moment. My fears were not assuaged even after not seeing any ghosts so I dragged Nneoma out of her room into my own room and sat her down on the bed
‘Nneoma, I’ve warned you severally about this joke of yours.’
‘Mommy, I’m not joking I swear!’
‘Stop swearing when you know you’re lying!’ I shouted, wanting desperately to remain in denial of the fact that my daughter was still communicating with my dead son.
‘I’m not lying! I am not lying. I saw him!’ she shouted back.

I was taken aback for a moment. Nneoma never spoke back to me not to talk of shouting at me. I was speechless for quite some time just staring at her. She stared back at me in defiance, like she was very sure of what she just said and couldn’t care less if  I  didn’t want to believe her. I sighed out of resignation as soon as I realized that I could not ignore this anymore. I had to get to the root of the matter. So, I calmed down and asked her quietly.

‘Nne m, please, tell me the truth. Who were you speaking with just now?’
‘Chinedu.’, she replied readily
‘For how long has this been going on?’ I asked
‘Since…since that day I told you I saw him at night.’
‘He speaks to you?’
‘Yes mommy. But he said I should not tell you. He said you’ll beat me if I tell you. He also said you will start crying again’ she continued in dismay as she saw a tear drop from my left eye. I quickly wiped off the tear.
‘What does he talk to you about?’

‘He tells me about where he’s staying now. He said you shouldn’t cry anymore and that you should take very good care of yourself for the sake of the baby.’
I smiled sadly. That sounded just like Chinedu who always sensed my moods somehow when he was alive. But what could he possibly mean by seeing me sooner than I thought?
‘He also said you’ll see him again very soon. Sooner than you think.’
I quickly looked away from her so that she won’t see the uncontrollable tears that streamed down my face now.

Even though the thought was a bit disturbing that over four months of my son’s demise, he still appeared to and conversed with my younger child, I somehow wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, this was true. What if Nneoma was really seeing Chinedu as she claims? What if Chinedu was still around me wanting to touch me, to protect me, watching over me like a guardian angel? It was a nice thought, even if it was a bit scary. I looked at Nneoma, this time, a look filled with hope.

‘So, what else did he tell you?’
Nneoma smiled and said

‘He said he’ll be coming back very soon’.
 x
x

Clarity

“I am not your mother.”

These five words changed my life forever.

My head reeled with shock and disbelief. At first, I thought I'd heard wrong. I had to clarify. I needed to ‘unhear’ what I’d just heard.

“Mom, what are you saying?”, I asked in a barely audible voice. I couldn’t even give voice to what I was feeling right now.

“You heard me Adaugo”, she said “I am not your mother”.

I couldn’t breathe. I was confused and scared all of a sudden. Then I became angry. I was filled with rage. I also felt terribly betrayed. But most of all, I was curious. So I had to ask

“Who is my mother? Where is she?”

“I know you have a lot of questions and I promise you, I will answer all of them but I want to seek for your forgiveness first of all”

“What do you mean?”

“I have always tried every means possible to steer you away from the spotlight because I never wanted you to end up like her. I know you must have felt different and out of place while growing up with us, but I’d really hoped and prayed that this day would never come…..”, Nkechi last words were swallowed up as she broke down in tears. Tears of pain and frustration at life generally. She couldn’t bear seeing her only daughter (for yes, Adaugo would always be a daughter to her, even if she wasn’t biologically hers. Even if the circumstances surrounding her birth gave her, Nkechi, every reason to hate Adaugo with a passion)

My heart softened a little when I saw the woman whom I had always believed to be my mother until a few minutes ago, break down into tears. Nkechi was after all, the only woman who had played the role of a mother in my life. Even though I was angry, I couldn’t quite quell the feeling of excitement that was slowly blossoming in me as I asked;

“Spotlight???, What do you mean?” I asked

“Your mother was a….” Nkechi started

“She does not need to hear this now Nkechi. She is just a child”, Emeka cut her shut. 

I didn’t even realize my dad had walked into the living room to overhear the last bit of the conversation.

“But dad!, This explains everything! I need to know the truth. WHY AM I SO DIFFERENT?”, I asked almost raising my voice.

“You are not different. You are my child and you’ll go ahead to take your finals in 3 months time and be called to bar just like your brothers. You will not disappoint me. This conversation is over!” my father stated in a tone of finality.

“Emeka, she needs to….” Nkechi began

“She does not need to know anything else apart from what she knows already. You cannot be putting ideas into her head especially at this young age.”

“Young?? Young?? She is 26 for godsake! A year older than Nneoma when you impregnated her!!”  Nkechi  screamed at Emeka.

“Woman! Not one more word from you or else….”, Emeka  warned as he approached her, fists clenched, with a look of menace clearly stamped on his face. Adaugo cowered in fear.

I saw the look of terror in her eyes and before I could even tell, I saw myself standing in between her and my dad. I looked fearlessly into his eyes.

“STOP!  Both of you! Just STOP!” I screamed.

Dad stopped on his tracks. Time stood still for almost 30 seconds.

“Mom, dad, what is going on? What is happening to us?”, I asked in tears.

Nkechi  ran out of the living, filled with terror.  She quickly ran upstairs and locked herself in their room – the master bedroom. Dad stormed out of the house not forgetting to grab his car keys from the dining table. I slowly sank into the sofa in the living room shaking like a leaf. In my twenty years of existence, I had never seen my dad so angry. His face was literally as black as thunder and he looked like he was going to hit mom. But the most scary part was the terrified look on my mom’s face. It was the look that showed he had hit her before…severally. The look that revealed she knew what was coming.

I couldn’t believe I just witnessed my mom almost physically assaulted by my dad.

I was filled with shock, disbelief, fear and confusion. I was also filled with excitement at the little discovery I’d just made. I was only different. There was nothing wrong with me after all. I was not abnormal. I couldn’t just blend because I was really different. I had a different mother and that explained everything. How I hated Law even though both of my parents and two brothers before me were lawyers (and exceptional ones at that).

She had mentioned spotlight. Was my real mom a dancer? A singer?  An actress?  A model? Did the stage and spotlight call her just as they always called me persistently? What was life like for her, my real mom? Was she famous? (Maybe that’s why they didn’t want me to know about her) Where is my mom? How come nobody ever talked about her all these years? How come nobody told me about her? What were they hiding from me?

Thousands of questions invaded my mind. I felt scared but at the same time curious as well. Then the tears came and flowed freely.

I remembered the first time I climbed the school wall and went to sing at the karaoke club in town about 3 miles from the school. I was only 15 then. I remembered how the bar came alive once I’d started singing. How the spotlight embraced me and held me close as the disco lights danced off of my skin showering me with different bright colors. I remember how I got carried away performing on stage and lost track of time. I found myself trying to sneak back into the dorm when I was caught and suspended for two weeks. Dad was enraged. Mom was strangely silent as he raged and cursed even as I kept on apologizing profusely. I had done all sorts of menial jobs and studied endlessly to get good grades for my dad to be happy. I even went ahead to promise never to sneak out of school ever again. Of course, I reneged on my promise the very next term and went out again and again. Only, I got more careful and never allowed myself to be caught again.

By the time I was in the university, I had gotten quite a few gigs to sing and act on stage even while I was studying law. At a point, my dad had to accept that I wanted to be a performer. Even though he made it clear that he would never support my ‘little acts of rebellion which could only be chalked up to youthful exuberance’ He made me promise to always make sure my grades never suffered. I was going to pass through law school and eventually become a lawyer just like my brothers before me. Law was after all a prestigious profession. I would make a sensible career out of it and everybody would be proud of me instead of ‘prancing about on stage half naked’. He never attended any of my shows. None of them ever did.

The problem started when I got wind of a road show that would take place in Sweden. I discussed with my best friend and manager who made sure she fixed me right in as one of the major roles in the drama aspect of the show. It was a musical drama. I practiced tirelessly with the group for months and everything was set in place. I would travel for the show which would last for two weeks and come back shortly before exams started. I’d already made arrangements for passports and then the show was shifted right into my exams. I didn’t care; I already knew the option my heart wholly accepted. I couldn’t bear lying to my family anymore so I simply came out and told them I wanted to drop out of school. My dad was livid. He raged for almost the whole day but I refused to budge. I was in the middle of a hunger strike to protest my freedom to choose what I wanted to be when my mom called me to the living room to have a talk with me and things escalated from there up till this moment.

I wanted desperately to know the truth and at this point, I didn’t care what it would cost me anymore.

I have to know who my mom is and where she is at the moment. I had a lot of questions to ask her. Like, why did she leave all these years? What was her favorite food? Would it be Beans and fried plantains like me? How does she like to take her cereal? With cold or warm water? Who was her favorite artist? What happened between her and dad? (*pftt I would never get that answer out of dad for sure).

Two hours later…

I knocked at Nkechi’s door. I had to knock three times more before she opened the door for me. She still had that terrified look on her face as she looked quickly up and down the hallway

“Where is he?”’ she asked

“He went out”

“What do you want?”

“Please mom, I need to know the truth about my real mom”, I pushed my way into her room without invitation “I need to know about Nneoma.”

Nkechi turned away from me, covering her face in anguish, as tears started flowing endlessly once again.

“I can’t”, she muttered

“You have to mom! Can’t you see?? I need to know if she is like me. I need to know anything I can about her. Where is she?” I pushed.

Nkechi  sat down on her bed shaking uncontrollably. Her whole body racked with sobs. She was truly in pain. I felt pity for her. But my curiosity topped any other feeling or emotion I could possibly be having for her. After all, she hid this from me all these years.  She owed it to me.

“I deserve to know mom. All these years I have lived in the dark, not knowing who I am or why I was different. I have to know about her, mom”

She sniffed noisily. I looked around the room; saw the pack of tissues lying on her vanity table. I quickly grabbed it and presented it to her. She picked quite a few and blew her nose loudly. I sat down slowly on the bed to feel  bitterness she had managed to suppress over the years

“Your mother...a beautiful woman. You have her eyes and her nose. Her full, jet black hair too. She loved the lights too. She wanted to be a movie star, desperately. Just like you, she always took off from school to go for shows. She happened to be my best friend in school but she was better at everything she ever tried. And why wouldn’t she? She had always been beautiful with clear skin and charming smile that took all the boys’ attention”, Nkechi spat out. “She practically got all the guys eating right out of her hand.”

I failed to notice the jealousy in her eyes. I was filled with excitement. My mom was just like me. She lived the stage just as much as I did. Maybe even more.

“So where is she?”, I asked

“I got married to your father right in second year. She had joined a group of well known rough boys in school. They claimed to be artists. They spent school hours smoking weed and doing drugs. Your mom became hooked on drugs. It tore your father apart as he watched her become a shadow of her former self. He was hopelessly in love with her, even though we were married. Even after six years, he could not let her go. It was a life of turmoil for me and your brothers and we watched your mother drag your father in and out different hell holes trying to cure her of the addiction. Even when she became pregnant with you and nobody could tell who got her pregnant, we both stood by her. I had no idea your father got her pregnant. It never even crossed my mind. How could he still be attracted to the skinny, pale, old and shrunken bitch? I thought he was over her especially as he was married to me? I was his damn wife!”

I froze in horror. For a moment I felt sorry for her again. Living all these years under the shadow of another woman, knowing she’d never be anything but the second choice to the man she had loved all her life with devotion. It couldn’t have been easy for her.

“But…but…what happened? Where did she go?”, I asked. If he had loved her so much, why did he not make any effort to contact her all these years?

I was surprised to see Nkechi burst out laughing almost like a mad woman. Then she broke down in tears all over again.

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?”, she asked bitterly “Your mother is dead.”

I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t think. My brain shut down almost immediately. Nkechi carried on, not even noticing the look of shock and confusion registered on my face. I could barely hear her next words

“She died in an uncompleted building somewhere in Jos two months after you were born.”

“WHAT HAPPENED? HOW DID SHE DIE?”

“She committed suicide after calling me to apologize for every wrong she did to me. At that time, she wasn’t even making sense but when she told me where to find her, I went to search for her because I knew it would make your father happy. He'd been searching for her for months. I read her suicide note first. She apologized for getting pregnant for your father. She even had the nerve to tell me to look after you. Such impudence. Your father was torn to bits when she passed on, so were his parents and his siblings”

“How so? Was she that close to his family?” I asked a bit curious. They must have known 

about the affair. But why would they be torn over the death of a mistress? Shouldn’t they be a bit relieved that the whole thing was finally over?

Nkechi looked at me strangely.

“Close? They weren't just close, she was HIS SISTER!”