When the women in my family gather, sitting with them fills me with anger, a sore throat that won’t go even though I drink cup upon cup of water. An itch that I can’t reach.
Aunty Obia had turned prayer warrior last year after her 3rd wedding anniversary
Aunty Obia had turned prayer warrior last year after her 3rd wedding anniversary
ith no child to show for it yet.
She was a ghoulish version of her previous self, all the fasting and sorrow taking away any form of joy in her eyes. She was always looking for the newest prayer houses, flooding our family group with different prayer channels.
She was a ghoulish version of her previous self, all the fasting and sorrow taking away any form of joy in her eyes. She was always looking for the newest prayer houses, flooding our family group with different prayer channels.
Aunty Alice was uncouth, brash and suffocating. She loved to let us all know that no one could talk to her, even though we all knew how mellow and melancholic she behaved with her in-laws. She had no son yet, hence no footing.
What she endured in the hands of her in-laws,
What she endured in the hands of her in-laws,
the insults and spite they hurled, she learned to repurpose at us, at her girls. Her tongue was always ready to lash as if by speaking to them to that way, they would somehow become boys.
Aunty Oly was normal enough but not enough for them
Aunty Oly was normal enough but not enough for them
because how could you be 35 and unmarried and think everything was okay?
She had learnt to withdraw from physical meetings, opting for poor quality whatsapp video calls where she only spoke to the children, always having something important to do when her sisters wanted to speak.
She had learnt to withdraw from physical meetings, opting for poor quality whatsapp video calls where she only spoke to the children, always having something important to do when her sisters wanted to speak.
But today she was here. They were all here. My pregnancy had brought them all.
“So Ezinne, you’re pregnant?” Aunty Alice asked for the umpteenth time.
I remained mute, refusing to answer again since she wanted to remain blind to the 5 months bump in front of me.
“So Ezinne, you’re pregnant?” Aunty Alice asked for the umpteenth time.
I remained mute, refusing to answer again since she wanted to remain blind to the 5 months bump in front of me.
I looked at Aunty Obia, and for the first time in almost a year, I saw a silver of emotions in her eyes. Greed for what I had. I brought my hands down to my bump again and crossed them to secure my baby.
The only person I avoided looking at was Aunty Oly.
The only person I avoided looking at was Aunty Oly.
To me, her anger was displaced. Did she have any hope in me? Had I begged her to have any? No one here had the right to be angry at me.
Only my parents did, but dead people couldn’t be angry.
I catch my cousin’s eye as she peeks through the curtain.
Only my parents did, but dead people couldn’t be angry.
I catch my cousin’s eye as she peeks through the curtain.
I want to shout at Aunty Alice to allow the girls to come out already. They could hear our raised voices; they could see my stomach.
“Won’t you allow the girls to come out Aunty? Would you not like to use me as a sermon for them?”
“Won’t you allow the girls to come out Aunty? Would you not like to use me as a sermon for them?”
“Ezinne, watch your mouth. We are here to help your situation and you’re behaving like what I don’t know.” Aunty Obia responded.
“Rapu ya. Leave her. She has a mouth. That’s why.”
“I didn’t invite any of you to help me.”
“Rapu ya. Leave her. She has a mouth. That’s why.”
“I didn’t invite any of you to help me.”
My parents were dead and for the past 3 years that they had been, I had lived in the 1 bedroom my father had completed under pressure from my mother. 3 years gone & my 19th scrawny year on earth and none of my father’s sisters had cared how I was surviving or eating.
Did they think it was the two thousand naira notes they squeezed into my hands every Easter or christmas visits that bought me pads, or food?
Last year, I learnt to open the money and count it in front of their faces so they could be embarrassed if they were capable of it.
Last year, I learnt to open the money and count it in front of their faces so they could be embarrassed if they were capable of it.
Again, no one had the right to be angry at me.
“Anyway, we are saying that when you give birth, Obia will carry your child and raise as her own.”
“Ashi. Aunty Alice I said you’re lying. You are a liar. You see this baby, no one is taking it from me.
“Anyway, we are saying that when you give birth, Obia will carry your child and raise as her own.”
“Ashi. Aunty Alice I said you’re lying. You are a liar. You see this baby, no one is taking it from me.
It’s my baby and I’ll raise it myself.”
“Ezinne mechie onu gi. We’re trying to help you and you’re opening your mouth.” Aunty Alice stood to defend.
“Aunty Alice hold it there o. Don’t talk to me about help. If there’s anyone who needs help in this room. It’s you and your sisters
“Ezinne mechie onu gi. We’re trying to help you and you’re opening your mouth.” Aunty Alice stood to defend.
“Aunty Alice hold it there o. Don’t talk to me about help. If there’s anyone who needs help in this room. It’s you and your sisters
I’m not the one who hates my children because they have vaginas instead of penises. Neither am I the one who can’t have children as is evidenced by this.” I point to my belly.
“I will slap you Ezinne. How can you call me barren? How can you imply it’s my fault?”
“I will slap you Ezinne. How can you call me barren? How can you imply it’s my fault?”
Aunty Obia and English.
“So, if the fault isn’t from you, how come I’m carrying your husband’s child?” I ask.
#fiction #day9 #nnewrites
“So, if the fault isn’t from you, how come I’m carrying your husband’s child?” I ask.
#fiction #day9 #nnewrites
Read other entries here:
https://twitter.com/nneoma_edeh/status/1555672665477857280?s=20&t=Yt4eKcEssgarVtWmUmhy1g
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