Since her husband was a london-based businessman,we wouldn’t have any problem putting up
with her till further notice. Her two sons and only daughter were all in the UK with their father.
Mrs Oyin called me into the parlour.Then, my aunt was fast asleep.“Why did you do that, Rose?” she asked me.“It wasn’t intentional!” I replied her. I had begun to sob.
“I am not talking about the fire accident,Rose,” she said. “That was the devil’s work and God must have a good reason for it because according to a Yoruba proverb, a King’s house that got burnt would only bring about more beauty in the end. I am only asking why you left the graduation ceremony like that.” I couldn’t explain clearly. I didn’t even know what to explain.
“I–I…” I couldn’t speak on. I was down in tears.“Rose, congratulations!” she said.“For what?” I asked. It was strange to me. What was here to be getting congratulated for? For all I care, I have only been a thorn in everybody’s flesh–my mother imprisoned because of me, my aunt’s embarrassed and rendered homeless, all because I am existing.
“Rose, guess what?”
“I can’t guess,” I said.
“Your poem won you a lot of prizes!” she said. “You were announced as the best graduands of the ceremony.”
“How?” I couldn’t believe my eyes. She must be joking.
“Do you mean that…that poem in which I lambasted God?”
Mrs Oyin unzipped her bag and produced the piece of paper into which I wrote the poem. I was shocked when I checked and discovered three more stanzas added to it:
Oh! my idle hands Speaking idle words Brain befuddled,Like a mouldy cake
God isn’t an idol And he is for real He will forever heal Taller than the heavens Brighter than the sun His ways are glaring Though to us blurry
‘Cos we are human Seeing a bit afar Through the twilight The stars bowed
The rainbow cowed
The gaoler turned the gates
Leading my mother out
Freedom at last!
I was shocked.
“Who added these stanzas?” I was quick to ask.“Thanks to your aunt. She picked it up and recited those stanzas offhand while looking into the paper blankly.
Everyone thought it was the continuation of your poem and a round of applause rented the air for you in absentia. The scream was deafening.
They wished you were around.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, Rose. It was a standing ovation,unfortunately you weren’t there. A lot of gifts were awarded–a bicycle by the governor-representative, an electric kettle, electric blenders, all for you. My car boot was filled to the brim yesterday.”
“I don’t believe this,” I was confused.
“After the party, the PA to the Commissioner for Education, Honorable Daniel, picked interest in the poem. He asked to see the write-up, therefore myself and your aunt brainstormed and came up with these. We had to strain our brains to remember every word of the three stanzas she had rendered impromptu. Then we wrote it down here and showed him.”
“Awesome!”
“Not only that, Rose, Judimax, a publishing company also showed interest in your poem and
they asked that you should provide them with nine more to add to your anthology. You have won yourself a publishing contract with them. They would publish you under
the title:
Rose’s Anthology; The Voice Of The Deaf Mute.”
I wept. I was shy. How would I be able to face the world? Didn’t I have my limitation? More so, how would I be able to write nine more touching poems? That one I wrote came as a result of luck. I could write nine more craps and make a fool of myself.
“Please ma, let’s forget about all that for now. I am only twelve so what can I do? You said I won a lot of awards ma. Where are they?”
“All gone in flame in your aunt’s store room.” I wept.
To be continued
