… with olamide now soundly sleeping on the mat, she was left alone curling at the edge of the mat with her legs folded in front of her. she allows her eyes to roam around the tent she is, which is over populated with people and the air, too stuffy and hot as people fight to grab the available oxygen.
she could her the loud snores of people that produce some cacophonous, frog like rythm and wonders how people could be so far from what they once called home and easily adopt to the sudden pitiable change that fate suddenly throws at them.
‘‘ kpam!! ” she slaps her left arm as she was trying to kill a mosquito that was feasting on her blood.‘‘ what ‘s the use” she said to her self, with many mosquitoes singing chorus in her ears as if to tell her something, where will she start from in shoving them off and to think that these little insects are so bold, daring her for a fight ‘‘mtcheeeewwwww” she hissed.
she could hear the crying of a baby from the other end of the tent and the angry scold of the mother, ‘‘ surely ugly situations like this has a way of robbing people of love and care, leaving them with anger, resentment and frustration”. she looked at her son Olamide again now covered with sweats that has already soaked the cloths he is putting on. the cloth was giving to them by an organization of Muslim women in the barrack where they are taking refuge. she removed his cloth and wiped the sweat streaming down his body like water.
‘‘ what was his life before this unrest? was he living like a prince or were they managing life ? who was his father ? was his father prominent and well to do ? ” she couldn’t tell, ‘‘Nigeria has succeeded in striping us of all we had and hold dear and pushing us in the cold naked and half dead, wondering like dead men with their eyes socked inside their heads filled with emptiness like zombies”. it doesn’t matter now who he was before, what matters is that he is now her son. Even though he may not make up for the family she lost, but she is going to love him and nurture him as if he is a thousand sons.
Tomorrow, they will leave this place. one of the women from the organisation has told her in confidence that a lorry will arrive tomorrow morning with supplies and if she is lucky, she can follow the lorry back to the west. she know she doesn’t need a supply, what she need is to get back to her people and she can do anything to achieve that, even if it means squeezing herself and her son inside a sack at the back of the lorry.
making sure nobody is watching, she untied the end of her wrapper and looked at the money the good woman gave to her to keep in case of any difficulty, ‘‘hmmmm…” she sighed ‘‘ even in our darkest moment, fate sure have a way giving us the tiniest of smiles” she thought.
not wanting to remember the ill and the cruelty life has treated her with this past few days, she was determined to look ahead, calling every abuse and emotional turmoil she has as a sacrifices for the only thing she now has, the only child left for her now to call son. looking down once again at him she knew that her life now centres on him, fate has brought him to her and she woun’t let go.
‘‘ we leave at the wake of dawn my child, to stay with my people, there the memory of the past will be erased from you and you will only see me as the only mother you know. i will see my children in you and will give you the best i can get. ” Olamide made a sound as if in agreement while she pet him softly with her right hand, wiping a drop of tear with the other.
…to be continued