My mother’s case was heard in court. She
was
pronounced guilty, despite all her pleas. I
didn’t hear her
but my aunt made effort to interprete
every bit of her
speech to me:
“Mrs John Hannah, can you tell this
court what you were
doing in Olabode’s room at exactly
2:30am on the
fifteenth of July of this year, 2000?” the
plaintiff said.
“I–I was sleeping in my room with my
daughter when
she woke me up to say that she had a
dream.”
“And what was the dream?” she asked.
“She said she saw a woman calling
Bode’s name. We
were shocked so we rushed to his room
to check his
well-being. It was strange to us when we
didn’t find
him in there.”
“Mrs Hannah, we want you to cooperate
with this court.
Can you tell us why you scattered his
room?”
“We were looking for him desperately.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because of the dream my daughter had.
More so, I
was the one responsible for his welfare;
his mother
isn’t living with us in the house.”
“Is that why you want to kill your step
daughter?” the
plaintiff challenged her. “Stepmothers
like you are
supposed to be put to death by hanging!”
When I saw my aunt’s sign, I did what
my mouth could
do best–screaming. All heads turned
around at me.
I saw their mouths moving. Two security
men came
close to me. My aunt obstructed them.
She pleaded
with them on my behalf. They
understood her. She must
have declared my status to them.
“My lord, this is a wicked woman,” the
plaintiff said,
pointing at my mother. “She doesn’t
deserve to be
living among human beings.”
“Enough!” the judge shunned the
plaintiff. “Are you the
judge? Do you want to dictate judgment
to me or what
are you trying to say, Barrister Tinu?”
“I am very sorry my lord,” she bowed her
head in
respect.
I gave them all some covetous look. How
I wish I was
the one having those wigs on my head;
that woman,
Toyosi, would no more be among human
beings. She
would be right behind bars for life.
I remembered the proverb my class
teacher always
told me those days in sign language; if a
farmer doesn’t
catch a thief on time, the thief would
catch the farmer.
Such was the case here–Toyosi was the
real criminal
here, not my mother.
John was called out to say what he knew
about it all. He
spoke and my aunt interpreted. We were
sitting at the
left hand corner of the hall, at the back.
Toyosi was
leering at us from time to time. Those
wicked eyes, I
just wished they fell off their sockets.
John grabbed the big bible with a hand.
He began to pour
his swears on it. I was saying amen
inside me because
I knew he would tell some lies with his
confession.
“I am John Adegbile by name, husband
of Hannah
Omorodion. This woman is a wicked
soul. Right from
the time that she knew I have a second
child from
another woman, she has been trying to
kill her son. I
don’t know why she is as jealous as this.
She also has
her own child, so I don’t see the reason
for her
jealousy.”
“Did you marry the second woman in a
ceremonial way
or how?” the plaintiff asked.
“Em–not really. It was a mistake; she
got pregnant for
me and I have to take the child from her.
This woman
Hannah accepted the child in good faith
then, but now
she wanted to get rid of him by all
means.”
My eyes were filled with tears as my
father spoke. If I
had pebbles I would hail them at him;
cobbles would be
better, or even a big rock. What a wicked
father!
“This is not their first time of attempting
to kill my son,”
John said in a critical manner. His veins
had wrinkled his
forehead, giving him the outlook of a
caricature. His
broken teeth was made the cynosure of
my eyes. His
toothgums looked exactly like a thick
black ‘evostic’
gum.
“You don’t mean it!” the plaintiff put up
a serious face.
“So tell us something about the past
murder attempt.”
“She has once sent her daughter, Rose to
kill my
innocent Bode on his bed while having a
nap. Rose held
the knife over his neck, about to rip off
his neck when
my innocent boy thumped up from sleep.”
Everyone in the court opened his mouth
wide at his
confession. I believed many had already
begun to pass
judgment on us. We were just two, myself
and my
mum, but we have many judges already.
My aunt could no more interprete for me
at the back of
the court hall. She broke into tears.
“That was not all, my lords,” my father
said. “She sent
her daughter the second time to hang my
son in the air.
Her daughter gripped my son at the neck
and raised him
high up until his legs couldn’t make
contact with the
floor anymore. Bode my son almost died
that time, and
since then he had lost his health. Now
my son had to
live with inhalers in his pockets every day
of his…”
Father had broken into tears.
“Do you have anything more to say, Mr
John?” they
asked my father.
“Yes sir,” he said, bobbing his head like
an agama lizard.
“Please can this court help me ask my
wife the reason
why she was not beside me on bed that
night, because
for the past twelve years of our marriage
now, we
have always been sleeping together at
night on the
same bed? Can this court also help me
ask her what she
was doing with a juju calabash I saw
with her?”
“Can you hear that, Mrs Hannah? What
were you doing
with a calabash at night? Why were you
not on bed
beside your husband that night? Please
answer us
because the time is not on our side!”
Mother held the top of the dock with her
hands. She
knew there was nothing to say to get
anyone
convinced. She knew she was going to be
declared
guilty in the end.
“Madam, talk!” they shouted at her. “Or
is he lying
against you?”
“It is true,” she said amidst tears,
nodding her head.
“So madam, do you now accept that you
are guilty?”
“No,” she said. “I am innocent.”
“Keep shut, woman!” the jury shunned
her. “You may
not speak anymore woman. The truth is
established
already. Who else has something to say?”
When I saw the interpretation, I raised
my hand as well
as my aunt too. We both had some
things to say.
“Only one person among you shall
speak,” the judge
said. My aunt asked me to go. I began to
move towards
the front. My aunt followed me. The
judge spoke some
words in anger, but I didn’t hear him. He
struck a
hammer against his desk. I wonder
whether he was a
carpenter. He must have been enraged
that my aunt
was following me. He needed just one
person and not
two.
Every mouth in the court was wide agape
at our
effrontery and defiance. I wonder what
was wrong
with them all. Two security men in police
uniform
accosted us. My aunt spoke something
into their ears.
They passed the message to the judge. I
knew what
the message was–they had just notified
him that I was
deaf mute and my aunt was only there
with me to do
the interpretation.
A policeman pointed at a bible to me. It
was lying
fallow on a dusty pulpitlike woodwork. I
picked it up
and dropped it back to give me enough
allowance to
express myself in sign language. Then I
began to do
the sign.
I saw the hilarious expression on
everybody’s face.
They seemed to be screaming. My aunt
later told me
what they were saying;
We didn’t ask you to do choreography for
us
Is she conducting a music or what?
Is she insane?
It was their last expression that got me
angry when my
aunt was relaying them to me after.
After all I said to defend my mother that
day, she ended
jailed for two years with hard labour. I
rolled on the
floor and hit my head against the hard
wood of the leg
of a pew. Blackout!
To be continued