Chapter 1: Chapter 1

The story of Abagana changed – that dewy morning of early January – when Mercy defied the harmattan cold and found her way to Saint Luke’s Convent. In her arms was a child, beautifully wrapped in a warm shawl. Mercy was a young and naïve mother; the one that was clearly unprepared for the responsibility of motherhood. Of course, she had known from the outset that conception was easier than raising a child. The task of bringing up a child was a difficult one and worst still, when one was a single parent. As it was often said, the mother who had no relatives always carried her child on her back while dancing. As she walked to the convent that morning, the weight and guilt on her conscience was heavy. What she had on her hands was a beautiful child, undeserving of the mistreatment she was on the brink of meting on it.

Of course, she loved the child as every mother should. But the willpower and hatred for the countless mistreatments she had suffered in her life fueled her to finish the cold-hearted act. Still that was not all. What worsened it was the circumstance in which the child was conceived – that pitiless and horrible rape – that changed and worsened the sad story of her life. That night it happened, she was returning home late, because the bus she boarded broke down a long distance from home. And having kept aside her aunt’s money for the day’s sales, it would have been suicidal should she had attempted to take from it to board another bus. She lived with an aunt that fed fat on cruelty. And over time, she had come to see why it was said that an orphaned calf licks its own back. Severally, her aunt have drummed it into her ears that she does not play with her money, bringing her into her home and feeding her – a wretched and dirty orphan – was a luxury that was not easy to come by. So the least she could do to show gratitude was to hawk the apples she sold and bring home the money, with not a dime missing from it for any reason.

Mercy could still remember the day she defied her and spent a measly sum of the apple’s money on paracetamol, because she was under the weather, and she needed to find the strength to finish the sale of the apples. She returned home and told her aunt and all hell broke loose. She kicked and flogged her with no ounce of pity, and starved her of her measly food that night. Since that day, she learned the bitter lesson not to tamper with her aunt’s money.

Hungry and exhausted as she felt that night, she managed to find the strength to trek home. She trudged, stoically, in the menacing darkness, dragging her weary legs on the lonely road, with her mind fighting hard to distract her thought from dwelling on her piteous condition. She was now eighteen years old and the life she was living was a shambles.

Most times, she had become excruciatingly sad and tired of life, and had contemplated suicide. She had wished she had died with her parents in that fatal car accident that robbed her of their love and care. Yet she was also bitter with them for yielding far too meekly to death without sparing a thought about her. As she buried herself in that mournful thought and took the left bend − the thin and untarred road leading to her home − a group of men scampered out of the bush and surrounded her. The night was pitch dark and silent. Mercy was gripped with fear, as a cold weird shiver swept through her bones. And with a clear sign of resignation, she burst into tears, pleading with the men to let her go.

‘Please, please, let me go,’ she implored them, ‘I don’t have anything you’d want,’ she moaned at them with streaming tears. ‘Let me go, I’ve to get home early. I don’t want my aunt to get mad at me,’ she muttered, rubbing her hands imploringly.

‘You don’t have money, huh?’ a gangly man asked her in a raspy voice. ‘That’s all right. We believe you. But we’ve to make sure,’ he said, scoffing at her, as a sinister smile hovered over his scrawny face. The man turned to others and signaled them to bring Mercy inside an unfinished building, as he turned and swaggered into the bush with a baleful face. The men swiftly began to drag Mercy towards the bush. She had trekked a long distance and was extremely tired. A burly fellow lifted her from the ground and placed her on his broad shoulders and marched through the bushy path. Mercy kicked, screamed and squirmed, but all her efforts were in vain.

The faint light of the half moon gave the room a wan gleam. The room looked ghostly, as smokes of marijuana puffing out of the mouths of the men filled the air.

‘What did you say?’ the gangly man asked Mercy again, puffing out the smoke of the last draw of his neatly wrapped marijuana. ‘You said you don’t have money?’

‘No. I have,’ Mercy mumbled, as she dug her hand into her bra and collected the money which she passed over to him. ‘Please don’t hurt me, please,’ she prayed them. The man took the money from her and passed it to one of the men standing next to him. But the money was not all he wanted. Despite the hardships she was going through, Mercy was still a shapely and beautiful girl.

‘We won’t hurt you... no,’ the gangly man stuttered. ‘Why should we? You’re such a beautiful girl. I’ll just play with you before you go home.’ The man smiled evilly, as he slowly began to unbutton his billowy shirt. Mercy saw the firm bulge in his trousers and knew she was in serious water. She mustered strength and rose from the ground and made towards the door, but one of the men leapt on her and pinned her to the ground, while the gangly man climbed on her, like a lion on its prey. He scratched her face with his dirty paws and struck her violently on the face. Mercy yelled, as sharp pain spread helplessly through her body, and blood oozed from her mouth. The man tore her blouse and gloated at her breasts as they danced deliciously in his face. He reached down and tore her skirt and threw it in a corner, as Mercy squeaked in a loud and painful tone.

‘Please! Please! You’re hurting me,’ she groaned.

‘You’re going to love it,’ the man replied, as he pressed his lips against hers in a forceful kiss. And brutally, he raped her with no ounce of pity, even as others took their turns. Mercy lay limply on the unplastered floor of the building in the pool of her blood; staring at nothing in the starless sky. When she returned to the world, it was almost midnight. She felt woozy and fell severally on the ground as she made her way home; blood oozing from her thighs. Peace − Mercy’s aunt – was still awake. She was pacing around with her hands on her waist, with Nick − her husband – standing next to her, as they waited for Mercy’s return. When Nick finally caught the glimpse of Mercy limping in the cloak of darkness, he gasped and ran towards her, as Peace followed him in hot pursuit.

‘What happened to you? Why are you coming home so late? Where is my money?’ Peace asked Mercy, at the same time. Mercy was still unable to speak. The rape was harrowing and ghastly, and it was not yet the time to speak or answer any question. She remained silent and stared vacantly into her aunt’s face, and then collapsed on the ground. Peace and Nick gathered Mercy from the ground and rushed her inside the house and poured cold water on her. When Mercy woke up, she continued to stare at them. While Peace remained patient, waiting for her account and the barrage of questions she would ask her. And finally mustering strength, Mercy rose weakly from the ground.

‘Where am I?’ she mumbled, ‘am I at home?’ she asked, hot tears streaming on her cheeks.

‘Yes, you are home now,’ Nick replied in a trembling voice. ‘What happened to you?’ he asked her.

‘Some men robbed and raped me,’ Mercy mumbled.

‘Ah! You were raped?’ Nick gasped, cradling his head in his hands. ‘Where did this happen? Do you know these men?’ he asked in a fit of fury. Peace remained strangely calm and indifferent. For all she cared, whatever happened was Mercy’s fault. And all that matered to her was her money.

‘Where is my money?’ she asked her finally, after a light pause. ‘I hope you brought it home with you?’ Her face was unfeeling and cold.

‘You leave her alone!’ Nick fumed. ‘She was raped and all you care about is your money? How can you be so unfeeling and inhuman? She needs a doctor.’ Peace’s face flushed with rage.

‘She needs a doctor? With whose money will she see the doctor?’ she retorted in a high-pitched voice that showed her unfettered ire. ‘This girl is careless. She is the cause of this. Should I also be her childminder? How many times have I warned her to come home early? But she has continued to defy me, and here you are defending her. My whole money has been taken from her. How can I pay my suppliers? She’s worthless!’ she screamed; her loud voice rattling the silent night air.

‘Peace! Peace! Your niece was raped and this is all you have to say?’ Nick said coldly, as goose pimples spread all over his body.

‘Don’t speak to me in that manner. Yes, that’s all I have to say. What did her parents do for me while they were alive? Have I not clothed and fed her all these years? Is that not enough to give to someone whose parents never cared about me? How many times did they go to America, and what did I get?’ Peace asked.

‘Oh! I see? That has always been your grouse. That bitterness and hate you feel in your heart for your sister has refused to die, and till now you still exact your revenge on your poor niece. You’re a stone-hearted creature!’ Nick screamed.

‘Wait! You called me a stone-hearted creature? You said that to me? All right, I see you have taken sides with her. It’s OK, but tonight is going to be the end of my charity. She must leave my house!’ Peace thundered.

‘You can’t do that. You can’t tell her to leave,’ Nick said, in a strangely calm voice. ‘I won’t let you kick her out! She won’t leave till I say so,’ he threatened, as his eyes flickered with anger.

‘Oh! You think I am joking. Watch me!’ Peace said, as she stormed into the inner room and returned briefly, and heaped Mercy’s bag on her body. ‘Leave my house! Leave at once, you witch!’ she yelled at her.

Mercy rose limply from the floor, picked up her bag and began to shuffle towards the door.

‘Come back here! You’re not going anywhere!’ Nick thundered behind her. Mercy stood dead with fear at the threshold. She remained there, confused on whom to obey.

‘Witch! Leave my house!’ Peace barked again, as she charged towards Mercy, and descended on her with furious spanks. Mercy groaned loudly. Filled with unrestrained anger, Nick leapt on Peace, hitting her with sheer disdain, as Mercy staggered out and into the ill-fated night.

Since that unfortunate night she left home, she swore never to set her eyes on her aunt’s face again. While she lived in her friend’s house, she contemplated terminating the pregnancy that resulted from the gruesome rape. However, good reason prevailed and she kept the child. She thought it was unfair to take the life of an innocent child because it was a product of rape. She was guilty of the crime of being an orphan, and she had lived with that all her life. It was unfair to find her unborn child guilty of a crime it did not commit. The life she was living and the things she had seen, she would never wish them on anyone, let alone a wretched and a luckless child.

As she reached the fence of the convent, topped with broken bottles, she stared into the baby’s face and watched it as it let out a soft and affectionate cry. Yet she was convinced of what she was doing. It was the right thing. The nuns in the convent were godly people; their hearts were still unaffected by the cruelty of this pitiless world. She was certain they would give the child the kind of life it deserved. While it was true that they would think she was a heartless mother and would condemn her actions, it was only the one that had walked down the same road that would truly understand why she did what she did. She was sure it was all for the best. The child was a survivor; it carried the traits of its mother. She was certain it would stay alive for the nuns to find it.

She placed the child gently on the pile of rubble, under the tall, leafy mango tree standing beside the fence, and offering a somewhat sentry to the convent. She stared into the child’s face as it smothered its face with its tender hands, seemingly aware of its mother’s abandonment. Mercy smiled warmly at it, as tears trickled on her face. She bade it a tearful goodbye for the last time and hurried into the cold morning. She could hear the child’s piercing cry, as it sliced through the silence of the morning, ringing pityingly and into the breaking dawn.