While I walked back home, it started raining. I was completely drenched. I slowly walked home panting as I felt dizzy even more, I kept on telling myself, “one more step and you’d get home” so I could gather more strength to get home.
My legs were becoming weak and i was shivering. I thought of taking shelter in one of the shops but I didn’t want to, part of me felt like dying . I just wished that the cold could finally do some justice and end my life.
I panted even more as I saw the brown coloured building of my father’s house. I was finally home, I can die now I assured myself from the way I felt that moment. Just as I saw mom approach me throwing questions at me about where I went to, i fell on the w€t muddy ground then I blacked out.
I became conscious hours later, my eyes were still close, but I heard two voices conversing. It was mom and some other lady. I was trying to make out where I must have heard the voice before.”You don’t have to worry Mama Aisha” shTbc🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅
“Aisha would be fine” the lady answered and then I opened my eyes slightly disappointed that I was still alive. The voice I heard was that of a village nurse.
“Aisha!” Mom drew closer touching my cheek while I sat up adjusting the pillow behind me.
“You had me worried and sick” she added and I apologised for it. “Is the baby gone?” I asked expecting a good news
“I don’t think so” the nurse answered in Hausa and I frowned.
Mom told her I had no choice but to keep the baby since the whole town has heard about it else they would brand her the “mother who made her daughter go through with an abortion”
“What about her studies?” She added and mom bowed her head speechless. Then dad walked in glaring at us.
He hissed then walked away into the room. He has been doing that lately. As long as he didn’t lay his hands on me, mom and I let him have his space.
Days turned into weeks as weeks turned into month. I was seven months gone still attending school thanks to Miss Zainab now Mrs.Zainab who would go to the end of the earth to support me.
I got called to the principal’s office where I was told to officially leave the school as a result of parents consistent complains on being a pregnant student. According to them I made pregnancy lookokay and cool. They said I wasn’t showing a good example the dangers of what pre-marital s£x can do to your education.
She then promised to give me home lessons after school hours. I felt awful since I had to go to drop school and exams. Home lesson won’t be as productive as learning from specialized teachers. Mrs. Zainab was only good at social studies and government.
I went back home earlier, called mom’s name to no avail. Then I walked into the kitchen just outside the house only to meet her fixed on the food she was making. “Mama good afternoon” I greeted and mom mumbled some inaudible response.
“You’re early today” she said trying hard not to look at me. I wondered why the strange behavior then I walked closer.
“Go inside!” She ordered, “Mama I want to help out”
“Go inside and rest” she added looking at the wall.
It was too weird for me to ignore; I rushed to the front shocked to see mom’s face. There was a big wound on her forehead. “Did Baba….” I trailed off, as if I needed to ask. “I caused it ,” she accepted blamed for the beating. “Mama how long would you take this? You heard Mrs. Zainab, you can file for divorce and it’s okay” I busted out in tears.
I quickly hugged her while we cried in each other’s arms.
“It will be fine” mom assured.
“Everything will be okay”
That night, mom had told me to help her serve dad since her hands were broken to even hold the tray and I did. Just as I dropped the tray on the table, I heard dad scoff.
“Why are you serving me?” He asked in hausa, “Mama is not feeling too well”
“What’s wrong with her?” He asked as though he wasn’t aware of it.
“Mama’s hands are broken” I replied with a little hint of anger in my tone.
“Is it because of that small beating I gave to her that’s making her tired to serve me. Tell her that if she doesn’t come out here this moment to fulfil her duty as a wife, I would personally end her life.”
“Baba it hasn’t gotten to that” I spoke up for the first time.
I didn’t know where the strength came from. “Must you always beat her up? Isn’t she human? Isn’t she your wife?” I continued moving a step back.
The next thing I knew, dad poured the water I left for him to wash his hands on my face this was followed by a loud slap on my face. I screamed in pain and mom came out to the sight of dad pulling my hair.
“What gave you the right to speak back at me?” He kept on asking while hitting me on my back with his other hand. “A pregnant whore like you” he added.
Mom held on to dad’s hands begging him to pity my pregnant condition, all to no avail . He held my hair about to hit my head on the wall when mom bit him on the arm.
Dad now turned his attention to her, beating her mercilessly. Mom wailed and cried out begging him but he turned deaf ears. I cried since there was little I could do. I wanted it to stop, I wanted the suffering to end for mom. A life without pain and assault from her husband. I turned to the ceramic breakable plate I used in serving him.
…Dad fell hitting his head on the table. I didn’t realize I had given him a hit on the head. Not until I looked at my hands to see the plate broken.
Then I dropped it in shock.