ORDEAL

I drove to the end of the road and stopped in front of the house by the bridge. I parked, and sat in silence for a while, giving myself an opportunity to change my mind.

 Truth is, I knew there was no turning back. I was here, and I had to do what I came to do.

I felt the movement of the baby, and instead of bringing me joy, all I felt was a pang of trepidation.

This was the only way out.

I rested my head and closed my eyes, seeing the happiest time of my life.

I married Leslie, the love of my life straight out of college. We were young, wet behind the ears, and stupid enough to think that the life would always be sunny. Six months after our marriage, I fell pregnant and my world seemed aligned.

Everyone was ecstatic, and I had never seen my husband as happy as he was when I gave him the news.



Unlike some other pregnant women, I had a hitch free pregnancy. Devoid of back aches, swollen feet or any form of illness. Apart from my baby bump and the occasional kicks, from the baby, I was perfect.

Then on Tuesday 15th June 2003, I was in labour for four hours and out came my perfect baby girl, we named her Pearl.

Being parents was a new phase in our lives.

Leslie didn't take the sleepless nights likely.

Three things my husband loves, sleep, money and food.....and in no particular order.

I was left to carter for Pearl alone at night, while he slept. I was giving her breast milk exclusively anyway so there was nothing much he could have helped me with.

When she was six weeks old, Pearl fell ill. We took her to her pediatrician, and he diagnosed her with Respiratory Synctial Virus. My baby was so ill and so frail, and she was admitted for almost a week but she recovered.

That was just the beginning.

We were always in one hospital or another, for one form of illness or another. It was a trying time in our young marriage. Elderly women told me she would outgrow her bouts of sickness when she got to a year old. Her first birthday passed, as did her second and Pearl was still sickly.

“I'm AA, and so are you. So why do we have a sickler as a child?” Leslie screamed on the night of our daughter’s second birthday. We had just returned from yet another trip to the hospital.

“Our daughter is AA….. She's not a sickler. How many times do I have to tell you this? We have tests that prove that” I was frustrated.

“Anything's possible. You might have been doctoring those results for all I know”

“Great! Not only are you accusing me of cheating on you, you are now accusing me of committing a crime. Have you forgotten so soon how everyone exclaimed that she is a carbon copy of your late aunt Jemima? Now she is ill and she is now another man’s child. Take her by yourself to any hospital of your choice and run tests. The next time you accuse me, would be the last time you would have the opportunity to” I ranted like a deranged woman, storming out of our bedroom to check on my child.

The next day, my husband took our daughter out like I told him to, and that was the last time he ever accused me. But I was bereft. I couldn’t believe he had to actually confirm the paternity of our child. I was so tempted to walk out on our marriage, but I knew that meant I would have to take care of the child alone, so I stayed in the marriage, out of spite.

We spent a lot of money taking care of our child and it took a toll on us, one night I fell to the ground and wished I hadn’t birthed her. I was laid waste physically, emotionally and financially. We had visited hospitals, herbal homes and even churches. We became a mini hospital at home, I learnt to inject my child, give her an iv and all what not. It was always a different illness.

On Wednesday 12th December 2006, Pearl died in her father’s arms at about 12:42pm she was 3years old.

I wept for my child, but I was consoled by the fact that she was in a better place. A place devoid of sickness.

For the first time in over three years, I lived my life as one without any form of worry. I went back to work and my body was revived. I no longer looked like a bony chicken with the feathers plucked.

Friends and relatives commented on how healthy I looked, and I was back to my old self.

Then, I was pregnant again.

This pregnancy was a happy time once again, but once in a while, I still felt a dull ache, hoping I wouldn’t have a sick child. Like my first pregnancy, I didn’t have a single bout of the usual pregnancy aches and nicks. I was the model pregnant woman for the three trimesters.

On Friday 7th November 2007, I had another pretty little angel. We were feeling so happy and thankful, we named her Happiness. Our baby was a great source of happiness, until she was six weeks old. Then the trips to the hospital began. From common cold, to colic to a sinus infection. The cycle repeated itself.

Happiness looked exactly like Pearl. The pictures of both babies were uncannily identical.

We were not superstitious, so we didn’t read any meaning to it. We kept hoping for the best. When Happiness turned two, an aunt from the village came to the house and convinced us to take her to the village.

We were desperate.So we went to the village.

The hut I was taken to was dilapidated, and I felt the roof would cave in without warning.

The medicine woman told me I had an abiku or ogbanje in some places. She said the child came just to cause me pain and anguish.

I sat silently, and listened as she sang one tune after another. My child was sweating profusely, who wouldn’t? the hut was a hot hell. The woman known as Nane, told me I would have to stay back with my child, until the abiku spirit was removed from her. Then she gave me a list of items I would need for my sojourn in her compound.

She called a young girl of about 6years old, to take my child away from the hut. Then she told me the story of abiku… the children that walked the market place unseen during the day, but coming out to play at night. I wanted to laugh and cal her crazy, but something in her tone silenced me.  The Abiku spirits watched women and men buy and sell during the day, and learn to take the forms of the beautiful faces they see. As the ages went by, they became even more beautiful and wanted to venture out into our world.

The first abiku was Shareli. Shareli was tired of playing with her mates. She began to yearn for the company of human children. She picked interest in a woman called Haromi, who was married to a rich man. Haromi often brought her daughters to the market place, and bought them beautiful clothes and shoes.

Shareli decided that she wanted to become one of Haromi’s daughters. The abikus do not have a gender, so they can decide to come as male or female, Shareli wanted to be a girl, and she bade her fellows good bye, and was born into the world.

Haromi named her Gere. She was the most beautiful child anyone had ever seen. Gere was loved by everyone, but because she did not belong in our world, she fell ill often. Her fellows always came to her at night, wanting her back. She died before her tenth birthday.
The natural order of things had been disrupted, because other abiku came into the world after Shareli and were a torment to their parents. These spirits are not good spirits. They are evil and so they keep coming, over and over to the same family, just to cause pain.

The only way to release yourself from their bondage is to make them uncomfortable. They love attention and wealth, and when that is not there, they would die out and not come back.”

“You mean my child would have to die?” I asked fearfully.

“Usually yes…. But now we have a sacrifice that would expel the abiku, and leave the child in good health” She responded.

I heaved a sigh of relief, and thus began my sojourn in Nane’s abode. That night, our boxes and belongings were sent to my aunt’s house, and replaced with a dirty sack of rags.

Happiness had one sack dress, made from the brown bags used to pack beans. Her hair was loosened, and the ribbons removed. She was left to play in the dirty soil of the compound, and even when she cried for me, they wouldn’t let me pick her up.

I watched helplessly, while my daughter cried out in hunger, or pain or just for the sake of it. I was dressed in rags, and when it was time for her feeding (which was rationed), I had to sit on the floor dressed in rags too.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months and truthfully Happiness recovered. She didn’t fall ill anymore, and one day Nane told me it was time for the final sacrifice.

At midnight, Happiness was taken into the hut of sacrifice, and I was not allowed in. I stood by the window, and watched the ceremony. My daughter was laid on the floor, by a great fire.

Then Nane started mixing some odd smelling items from around the hut, in a small mortar.

Then she took out a blade, and made some incisions on my baby’s neck, stomach and wrists. I had begged her to spare her face.

Then she rubbed the concoction over the bleeding wounds, Happiness screamed the whole time. Then she began chanting incantations and her eyes turned white.

Three hours later, my child was handed over to me, sleeping peacefully. I was told she was free from the Abiku. Two days later, we returned home.

 For the first time since I married, we threw a birthday party for our child. Happiness turned three, hale and hearty. At last I had a family……. A healthy family. It had been four months since we returned from Nane’s compound. For the first time since she was born, Happiness went for months without falling ill.


I woke up on Thursday 10th November 2010, I woke up and Happiness was dead in her bed. Just three days after her third birthday. My world came to an end once again.

Leslie consoled me, as did family and friends. I went back to Nane, and she told me it was not ordinary… the abiku did not choose me itself, someone had sent it to me. I didn’t understand it, who hated me so much and why? All she told me was to wait, and return to her immediately I took in again.

She didn’t have to wait for long. By January 2011, I found out I was pregnant again. I went back to Nane, and she made some concoctions I had to force down my throat. She said that would ward off the spirits and when it was time for me to have the baby, I was to return.
So after another hitch free pregnancy, I went back to Nane and on 30th September 2011, I had my third baby Cara. She came out with all the marks and incisions Happiness had. My husband and I had to believe in the supernatural. The whispers spread like wild fire among our kindred. It was confirmed….. I had been giving birth to the same child over and over.
Cara was born on the bare floor, and the first six months of her life, all she knew was dirt, grime and an impoverished life. I was willing to do anything to save my child this time.
The child was sickly for the first two months, and after that she was hearty. After six months, I returned home with my baby. I was told not to shower too much of the pleasures of life on my Cara and I didn’t. my daughter lived a healthy life, like a normal child. When she was two years, she started school. With Cara, I enjoyed motherhood. She learnt fast, and was really beautiful.

On 14th November 2014, I was in my office when I received a call from Cara’s school. I rushed there, and was told she had been rushed to a hospital. I drove like a lunatic all the way to the hospital, as I came out of my car, I saw Cara’s teacher with puffy eyes, and I knew. I fell to the ground, and passed out. I was in the hospital for three weeks. I was running insane. How could my beautiful child, my healthy child, slump and die? She was dead before they got to the hospital. She had just turned three.



I opened my eyes, and looked towards the bridge. The baby moved within me, and strengthened my resolve to complete my mission. I got out of the car, and walked to the bridge.  The only sounds in the night air, were that of the rushing water under the bridge.
I am tired of being a conduit…. A passage into the world. This is my fourth pregnancy, and I can’t continue to be a vessel for pain. I put my leg across the barricade, and hefted my body across it. I listened to the water for a minute with my eyes closed.


Then I jumped.



LIFE IS A CHOICE MY FRIENDS
SO CHOOSE WISELY
ENOUGH SAID


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