A week later, it was a New Year day.Toyosi didn’t starve me this time around. She even told me she had turned over a new leaf.
“Rose, this is 2001 so I have decided to be lenient with you. If you keep being a good girl, the I will keep doing you well. As for your mother, she will be back soon.”
How soon could her ‘soon’ be? I can’t wait to see my mother return to the house. I dreamt of
her just the night of the New Year Eve. She was sick in the prison.
My dreams were often the reversal of the
reality, so I
just believed she was healthy there. If my
dreams
were real, her apparition wouldn’t have
appeared to me
earlier, telling me that she had been
killed. Now, seeing
her sick in the prison was definitely a
contradiction to
my first vision that she was dead.
If I was a prophetess, I would be a false
one, I
thought.
I wondered what was up Toyosi’s sleeves
this time
around for her to be showing this kind of
affection for
me. Toyosi must be the snake who
deceived Eve at
creation, I thought. Such thought would
at least help me
not to be surprised whenever she
revealed her real
intention. She was always good at her
game of
suspense.
Toyosi even gave me the free hand to
mingle with my
neighbours. She told me to be secretive
about my
family.
“Don’t tell Mrs Omotayo and her children
anything going
on in this family if you really want to see
your mother
alive,” Toyosi warned. “You know that
walls have ears;
if you do an undo, I will hear and do an
undo too. So, if
you love your mother, then keep quiet
about your
family. Don’t tell our neighbours
anything.”
I was going to do exactly that. Why
wouldn’t I do that?
I thought.
Toyosi gave me food on the New Year
day, unlike the
Christmas day. She then asked me to
return to my
room.
“Rose, as long as you keep your mouth
shut about
everything that has happened, then you
can be sleeping
inside your room instead of using the
kitchen,” she told
me.
What was she up to? Did she want to
take me by
surprise again, or is it that this year was
my year of
freedom? Going by the sticker Toyosi
pasted on the
door, I thought it was indeed a year of
freedom for me.
The sticker had the statement 2001, MY
YEAR OF
FREEDOM.
I spent the whole New Year day thumping
here and
there; from our flat to the other flat but
towards the end
of the New Year day my day was ruined
by my father:
It was around 9pm that New Year day.
Toyosi had left
the home to her own husband’s house
because it
seemed she would be having some
guests there. I got
to know this when three of her friends
came to our
house and began to hurry her up. When
she was
leaving, she came to my room and told
me she was
leaving for her husband’s home.
I thought of asking her for the reason
why she hadn’t
been staying with her husband but I
didn’t because I
thought doing that would mean that I
was too forward.
At least I had already been aware that
her husband had
travelled to South Africa, thanks to Mrs
Omotayo who
told me that earlier.
As if Toyosi was living in my mind, she
turned back to
me and signed:
“Actually, my husband has travelled
abroad so I thought
it would be kind of me to assist your
father till he
returns. Isn’t that a good idea?”
“Yes it is,” I signed back and nodded in
agreement.
Then she kissed my forehead and left.
I suddenly discovered that I was in the
mood to start
writing poems. I took my paper and my
pen as I began
to write one; the one whose stanzas had
set in my head
since the day before. It was titled LIFE IS
A PEN
I didn’t hesitate to pen down the poem as
it was
coming from my brain:
Life is a pen, God is the author
You and I are the characters
Inside his fiction he writes all genres
Tragedy, comedy and romance alike
Life is a clay, God is the potter
You and I are the pottery
Inside his pottery house he moulds all
objects
Pots, laddle and gourds alike
Life is a song, God is a singer
You and I are the notes in there
Inside his songs he writes all genres
Gospels, countries and pop alike
Life is knowledge, God is the teacher
You and I are the subjects taught
Inside His teachings he emphasizes
Love, morality and myth alike
Life is a race, God is the referee
You and I are the athletes there
Inside his rules He made us know
First could be last and last could be first
Life is a risk, God is the guide
You and I are to take the risk
Inside his manual you find peace of mind
Confidence, trust and all you need
Life is death, God is the judge
You and I will die someday
Inside his book will your name be found?
Heaven is real and hell is real
I checked the poem over and over again
and I fell in
love with it. I kissed the paper and
adjourned to my bed
to sit because I wrote it on the floor
earlier.
I was still in the euphoria when my father
entered in
with his bare chest covered with hair. His
chest was
broad. I began to wonder what he had
come for at such
late hour and my heart missed a beat.
The man was on
boxers, a very skimpy one for that
matter. I didn’t even
hear his footstep because I am deaf. He
was an inch
close before I could spot him.
John looked mysterious as he shut the
door and bent his
neck at me, his hand pushing against the
wall beside my
bed.
I was scared! I shifted back on my bed
and leaned
against the wall with my pillows on my
chest. My teeth
had begun to do some exercise as they
gnashed
against one another.
John came on the bed and smiled as he
crawled
towards me. I put my pillow on my face
in horror!
To Be Continue
