Chapter 18: Chapter 18

Life is a difficult game. You can win it only by retaining your birthright to be a person.

-Abdul Kalam

We decided to enroll Ibrahim in a day care center sooner than we planned. The little boy seemed to be growing fast and even learn more swiftly than he grows. He alerted me each time he needed to pea or defecate saying “Mama” holding his penis or backside as the case maybe. While at the office, Abdurauf had begun necessary arrangement to install me as the new manager.

I was in the toilet doing some cleaning, because I don’t allow servants in our private space. My phone rang from the bedroom; I got there and was surprised it was Alhaja calling me. “Asalamualeikum,” I greeted her. “Don’t salamualeikum me. The corpse you buried has revealed it’s leg,” she said. “I don’t know what you are talking about Ma,” I replied innocently. “You wouldn’t know, how would you know. Your entire plan to take over my husband’s property has been revealed to me. The wind has blown and it has revealed the hen’s backside. You are a very small child and I pity you. If your mother is to carry this load she would suffer. The battle line has been drawn, you want to take over what I worked for my entire life with that candlestick you called son. If you like tell your husband, I don’t care, both of you will suffer,” she said angrily and disconnected the call. I sat down on the edge of the bed not knowing what to do or how to proceed. I wasn’t build for this kind of trouble and Abdulrauf has dragged me to a war.

Abdulrauf returned from work in the evening, and I waited patiently for him to take his bath and eat dinner. He was relaxing on the bed reading a newspaper when I walked up to him. “There is something I needed to discuss with you,” I said. “I knew the moment I entered the house that something was bothering you. I’m just waiting for you to spill it” He said casually. “I don’t want to work in your office,” I told him. “What does that mean?” he asked, his tone harsher than I expected. “You have two wives. Please understand that your offer will pit me against Alhaja. I don’t want trouble.” “Did she call you?” he asked. I couldn’t lie that she didn’t, he would know anyway so I nodded in agreement. “Tell me everything she told you,” he commanded. I narrated the events of the morning to him, and he was pissed off by the time I finished. “When an okra plant aspired to be taller than the farmer, it will get bent or better still uprooted,” he said seething with rage. “I will handle it in the morning. Put your mind at rest. I’m still the lord over my property including her.” I sighed, “If you say so.” “Come to bed let’s sleep. Trust me there is no problem, I will handle it,” Abdurauf assured me.

Abdulrauf left for the other house the following morning. Thirty minutes later, I received a call from a strange number telling me he was involved in an accident, and he died on the spot while the driver was rushed to a nearby hospital. I crashed to the floor, I couldn’t breathe, I wanted to shout on top of my lungs but no sound came out, tears flowed down my cheeks in torrent. “Madam! Madam! Are you okay?” “What happen?” I heard a concerned voice approached me but I couldn’t tell who it was. I was gasping for breath and then the sound came, it was loud and piercing. The cry of agony, my heart was wrenching and I slept on the floor wailing for unspecified amount of time. I stood up suddenly and made for the door. Some hands restrained me, I trashed against their pull shouting at them to leave me alone. I needed to see him, I wanted to be sure.

I couldn’t believe Abdulrauf was gone forever. It still felt like a bad dream I desperately wanted to wake up from. Friends and family troop to my doorstep to commiserate with me, speaking kind words and encouraging me to be strong for my son. But as the reality of Abdulrauf death gradually dawned on me, the pain in my heart became more unbearable. Islamic culture stipulated I stayed indoor for the period of 4 months and 10 days to mourn his demise. Then what next, I asked myself. Where should I start? My marriage was barely two years old and now I’m a widow. The mention of the word made me cringed.

Mother stayed with me for sometime before returning to her house. Anytime I looked at her, I remembered what Yusuf said about making her a sacrificial lamb and the ultimate price he would pay for his refusal. I go berserk and they thought I was insane. The pain was too much to bear. We lost Ibrahim not quite long, my husband is dead, who knows what will happen to Yusuf. God why is this happening to us I thought. Everything was going smoothly: I married a rich husband that loved me dearly, Ibrahim was on his way to stardom, and Yusuf is making money. Could you be punishing us for Yusuf’s sin? No! I disagreed within myself. I didn’t have deep spiritual knowledge, but I know God will not punish me for his sin. These and many other thought ran through my mind daily. Father was deeply concerned about me: I don’t talk, I eat little and I rarely take my bath. He hired a shrink to attend to me, but some of the things I thought about I couldn’t share with anyone. The shrink soon got frustrated and stopped coming.

They said time heals all wounds; I wasn’t healed but I had improved gradually. My 4 months 10 days confinement came to an end, and like someone was acting a written script the lawyer was summoned to read the will immediately. We gather in the living room awaiting the arrival of Abdulrauf’s lawyer. He showed up later and apologized for keeping us waiting. After settling down, “shall we begin,” he asked and he was told to go ahead. I didn’t pay much attention to him; I knew what he would read out, the backlash that will come after was what made my toes curled. “If you are reading this it means I have joined my parents in eternal peace”. He read in the deceased voice. “My company, my estates at Magodo, my house at Lekki, with the shares I have in the company I listed below worth 800 billion naira should go to my wife Alhaja Shakirat Adelowo and her children. My house at banana island worth 9 billion should be sold, and the money should be shared among my family members,” he read and closed his book. “Are you sure that you are reading what is inside the will?” I challenged. “Yes ma,” he answered adjusting his glasses. “Perhaps you should remove it if it’s obstructing your view and read again,” I said fiercely. I saw Alhaja smiling triumphantly with the corner of my eye. “That’s an insult to my personage Ma; I just read what is exactly in the will you can read for yourself if you want,” he offered, behaving like he had rehearsed the moment many times before.

I was scared and angry at the same time. And I spoke in measured statements, “Mr Adelowo handed the documents of his belongings to me before he died, and also told me the content of his will which is not what you have just read to us.” “Can you produce the documents Ma? He asked like he knew something I didn’t. “Of course but I don’t have it with me now,” I replied. “Well! Bring it to my office if you ever find it and we can review,” he said. Did he just smirked at me, I looked around to see if anyone saw what happened, but the eyes that stared back at me were unfriendly. I was alone. I stood up and made to leave. A thought came to my mind and I turned back to face the lawyer. “Mr Adelowo said I could trust you.” He stared at me like I was speaking a strange language, and I walked out of the premises accompanied with jeers.

When I got home I made for my bedroom, opened the wardrobe where I kept the files but it was gone. I staggered back like I was tasered and crumpled to my knees. It was all a script played to perfection; the family representatives and the lawyer were bought. And I lived with a mole under my roof supplying my enemy with information. Why would any of my servants betray me though, I was good to all of them. Why? I cried out. I was too livid to shed tears. I stumped downstairs and called the servants in the house to assemble. Ijeoma came bearing Ibrahim on her back which was strange, Ibrahim was always with Lydia. “Where is Lydia,” I asked. “She have go,” she replied. “What do you mean?” “Madam I mean say as you self comot in the morning, she go upstairs to yah room, as she be the only one wey you dey allow enter. She come back and begin pack. When I ask where she dey go, she talk say her time don finish.” “So it was Lydia who betrayed me, it shouldn’t have been her,” I said regrettably and my stony face shed tears of despair. It was over; I played a dangerous game and lost. Ijeoma handed Ibrahim over to me, and I smiled through my blurry eyes when he touched my cheek saying “Mama!” with question in his eyes he could yet put into words. “At least I have you at the end,” I said and he smiled encouragingly at me as if he understood the situation perfectly.