by Odafe Atogun
‘I’m not sure if you are aware that before she died Mama tried to take some orphans into her care, but my father, the priests and the people vehemently opposed her, and she had to give up. Of course, the Chief and the people are controlled by the priests. But when the people truly want change and they get the backing of the Chief, the priests become powerless. What I’m trying to say, in essence, is that I want to see many changes in this village, but I need the people to work with me for that to happen.’
He leaned forward a bit more and spoke firmly. ‘I will conspire with you to promote the changes you want to see, and you will get my support, and together we can ensure that orphans get the good care they deserve. I do not need to tell you more.’ He sighed and sat back.
*
I returned home happy. I had nothing to be sad about anymore. All my sadness had been eased. And now I must pursue my destiny that could only be realised through strength and happiness.
I summoned Soluso. He came eagerly. ‘Looks like it’s going to rain today,’ he said and smiled. ‘We haven’t had rain for a while.’
‘I hope it rains,’ I said.
‘Is there anything I can do for you?’
‘Yes, but take a seat first.’
He sat down, his eyes focused on my face.
‘Tell me about the priests of this village.’
‘They’re very powerful.’
‘Apart from that?’
He hesitated, thinking. ‘They make laws and get the Chief to assent to them. They claim that every law they make is given to them by the gods. And everybody must follow the laws to the letter.’
‘What if the people and the Chief reject their laws? What can they do?’
‘The Chief and the people together, nothing. The Chief alone cannot reject their laws, and the people alone cannot reject them either. The consequences of rejecting or disobeying their laws is so terrible no one dares to do so.’
‘And what are the consequences?’
‘They say that the consequences of rejecting or disobeying the laws of the gods are blindness, and then madness and then death. No one wants to go blind and run amok before dying. We are all afraid, so we accept the laws they make.’
‘But do you believe what they say? Has anyone died in the manner that they describe?’
‘Not believing is in itself a crime. You can’t come out and say that you do not believe. We all believe. And because we believe, no one has ever died as they describe,’ he said with a shrug.
‘Thank you for sharing your knowledge with me.’
He rose to leave. ‘Let me know if you need more information.’
I smiled at him.
As the rain poured that night, I sat alone by the lantern and thought of many things. I thought of my children. I thought of Kpofe faraway in the big city. And I thought of the stolen painting which the late High Priest said would be the key to a great destiny. For a moment, I wondered how that would come about. And then I told myself that it was not for me to worry about how destiny would fulfil itself.
I slept soundly, and I did not feel any sadness inside me, only resolve to follow destiny with happiness.
*
The following day was market-day. I went to see what the market looked like, and I was surprised to discover that it was similar to Main Street, only that it was located in a square. There were several wooden stalls of different shapes and sizes scattered all over the square, and the air was thick with dust. It was easy to identify the merchants who came from afar. They wore colourful half-coats and small caps embroidered with exotic designs. And they chatted loudly with everyone, smiling broadly to show that business was good.
It was a big market. On a few occasions, I lost Oyi, a young woman who had been working as a maid in Mama’s house and had accompanied me to the market in order to help me carry my shopping. There was so much dust I was sometimes unable to see the faces of people clearly. For a moment I wondered what had become of Main Street. I wondered, also, if I would come across some of the merchants I used to supply with vegetables. I was excited by the prospect. And I walked all over the market, again and again, until my legs became weary. Sadly, I did not come across any of the merchants I used to know. I thought of Chair-Lady and I wondered if she had managed to revive Main Street.
I bought a few things, which Oyi carried in a basket. She explained that the market took place weekly, and she advised me to get whatever I would need for the next week.
Oyi was about five years younger than me and had only been married for a few months. She had been working for Mama for many years, and she was very happy to transfer her service to me. I liked her. She always wore a smile, and she was shy and unpretentious. When she wasn’t working for me, she practised sewing on a Singer machine that Mama had bought for her. She said her ambition was to become a tailor, and she hoped to take her designs to the big city one day.
I told her about Kpofe and his girlfriend who worked in a garment factory in the city. I told her that if she ever went to the city with her designs, she should ask for a young man called Kpofe, who would introduce her to Eliza, who could help her break into the garment industry. She was very excited and told me she would work harder to accomplish her dream knowing this. Of course, I had no idea how big the city was or how either of us could ever find Kpofe there.
When we were done at the market, I told her to take our shopping home while I went for a stroll to the gate of the village.
‘It’s simply called the Gate,’ she said with a grin.
‘Hmm, it sounds romantic,’ I said.
‘Young couples on dates often hang out there,’ she told me. ‘My husband used to take me there, before we got married. Not anymore. I’m an old woman now.’ She laughed.
‘We all become old women once we get married.’ I laughed too.
‘You don’t want me to come with you?’
‘I will be okay,’ I said to her with a smile. ‘I will see you in a bit.’
*
It was nothing like a gate. The Gate was the point where the road leading into the village broadened and then narrowed and houses began to dot the landscape to the left and to the right. That point where the road broadened was actually the part referred to as the Gate. Several small rocks, which were used as seats, could be found there, and I sat on the very rock where I had found Mama sitting on the day I arrived in the village.
In the distance, I saw a boy and a girl walking hand in hand. I smiled to myself, thinking that they would probably stop taking such romantic walks once they became married.
I touched the rock as memories of Mama came to me. Destiny was such a funny thing, I said to myself. I sat there alone in the sun admiring the beautiful landscape that spread into the forest in the distance. I wondered what the forest looked like, whether there were wild animals inside it, or just trees and tall grasses and spirits. I recollected that Mama had risen from the rock when she saw me approaching. And when I reached her, she had smiled at me and said, ‘You must have been travelling for a long time.’
It was obvious – I looked dirty and tired and I was famished for I hadn’t eaten anything that day.
‘Yes,’ I replied weakly. ‘I’m a widow and I have been travelling for about a month.’
I noticed a slight change in her expression – as if she was both surprised and shocked at the same time. ‘Come, take a seat,’ she said, leading me to the rock on which she had been sitting. ‘You look very tired.’ There was concern in her voice.
After I had rested a bit, she helped me up and took me to her house.
I smiled at the memories.
In the distance, I could still see the lovers. I stood up to go back to the village. For a moment, I looked round the Gate, and I told myself that I would repeat the visit the following day at about the time that I had found Mama there.
THIRTEEN
I returned to the Gate the following evening. It was deserted, and I took my seat on Mama’s rock, pulled my knees to my chin and gaze
d down the road that had brought me to the village.
The sun was starting to dip. I looked up at the sky; there was no threat of rain. I thought that the sky looked exactly as it was on the day I first arrived at the Gate. I thought that the road which had brought me was silent in the same way. I thought that all things were exactly as they were on that first day. I sighed and looked down the road, wondering what it would bring. And as I looked, I saw a boy coming. When he got closer, I saw that he had no shirt and no shoes; just a pair of shorts. And he walked slowly, as if unsure whether to continue forward or to turn back.
He must have seen me, for he walked with purpose now, heading in my direction. When he was close enough for me to make out his face, my heart started to beat uneasily. I rose to my feet and began to walk towards him until I was standing right in front of him and gazing down at his tired face. I began to tremble all over. I thought I must be in a dream. And in that dreamlike state, all I could do was whisper his name – ‘Noah’. Tears began to stream down my face.
He stared up at me, agony and fear in his eyes, and he shook his head.
‘Noah,’ I repeated, stretching forth my hands to touch his face, to ease his tiredness.
He shook his head again. ‘My name is not Noah,’ he said in a weak voice.
I ignored his words. ‘My son, how did you get here?’ I asked, leading him to sit on Mama’s rock, seeing that he was tired and disoriented.
I bent down before him, staring deep into his eyes. It was as if the dream in which I had found myself was growing more surreal by the seconds. ‘How did you get here?’ I asked again.
And then he spoke words that almost shattered the glass-like fragility of my surreal world. ‘I don’t have a name. Everyone calls me boy. I have no father or mother. I have no sister or brother. I have no one. I have been wandering for longer than I can remember. I’m tired and hungry.’ He began to cry.
His grief broke my heart. I embraced him tightly. ‘Your name is Noah,’ I said, in a trembling voice. ‘You’ve been through a bad experience, which is why you have forgotten your name and your past. I’m your mother. The Chief of our village kidnapped you. They were going to execute me, so I fled, leaving you behind. I’m so sorry that I left you behind. Please forgive me. I will take you to our new home.’ I wept bitter tears.
‘I’m hungry,’ he said, his voice barely audible. ‘I need food.’
‘I will prepare you something to eat as soon as we get home,’ I told him.
He nodded and took a few breaths, as if gasping for air.
*
I introduced him to the maids, and I insisted on cooking his food personally. While the food was cooking, I bathed him with warm water scented with herbal oils. He closed his eyes, drawing air deeply into his lungs, as if filling himself with a new life.
As I bathed him, a deep frown suddenly crossed my face. At first I could not tell why. And then I realised that the prominent birthmark that was on Noah’s upper back was no longer there. I wondered what had happened to it. Surely it couldn’t have disappeared just like that. I checked all over his body, hoping that for some reason it had shifted position, but I could not find it. I scrutinised his face. No doubt he was my son; two people could not look so alike, yet I felt troubled that I could not find the birthmark. Not wanting anything to spoil the joy of our reunion, I told myself that whatever had happened to the birthmark was irrelevant. It did not even matter that he had no recollection of his past. I knew this was a result of his traumatic experience. And it occurred to me that I would have to teach him all that he had forgotten. Thankfully, we had all the time in the world.
When I finished bathing him, I rubbed Vaseline on his face and body, but he rubbed more on by himself, the way he liked to do. I laughed when I saw how oily his face was. To my great delight, he laughed too. I wiped off the excess ointment with my palm. I felt very glad to see that he was already recovering well.
In one of the rooms, I found some clean clothes which were his size. And I found him a pair of slippers too. ‘I’ll get you new clothes and other things on the next market-day,’ I told him, and he nodded.
The food was ready by now. I took him to the dining table and served him his favourite dish. By the time he finished eating, his eyes were very heavy and he was starting to nod. In the bedroom, he promptly fell asleep as soon as he dropped on the bed.
*
I had made up my mind that until he got accustomed to his new home, he was better off sharing my bedroom with me. So I moved in a smaller bed for him. Oyi and I sat on my bed, watching him sleep, listening to his gentle snoring.
‘You never told us you had a son,’ Oyi said quietly.
‘That’s because I was not so sure of his whereabouts,’ I replied. ‘He was kidnapped shortly before I ran away from my village, and I had to leave him behind because I was afraid for my life. Thankfully, he has managed to find me. He cannot remember much because of the trauma he has suffered. But I’m sure that, in time, he will recollect all that he has forgotten.’
‘He is such a brave little boy to have travelled all that distance to find you,’ Oyi said wondrously. ‘Powerful forces must have protected him on his journey. In our village, we believe that when a child is in search of the mother, that child is given special protection by the gods. That’s what must have happened. The gods guided your son to you.’
‘How I wish they would protect the innocent orphans in the same way,’ I said, speaking my thought aloud.
We sat in silence.
After a while, Oyi rose to her feet. ‘I will leave now. I look forward to playing with Noah tomorrow,’ she said and flashed her shy smile.
*
He woke up in the morning looking refreshed. He had slept soundly during the night, and I had spent most of that time watching over him. While he slept, questions had nibbled at my mind, but I pushed them all away, telling myself not to allow doubt to spoil the miracle of our reunion.
‘Good morning, my son.’ I greeted him with a smile, going over to sit on his bed. ‘You’re awake.’
He sat up and pulled the sheets to his chin. For a moment he stared at me with a frown, as if unsure where he was. And then he said, ‘Good morning.’
I cuddled him together with the sheets, pressing my cheek against his. ‘How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, I slept well. I have never slept so well.’
‘I’m so happy to hear that,’ I said. And then, broadening my smile, I asked, ‘How come you’re not calling me Mother? That’s what you call me – Mother.’
‘Yes, Mother,’ he said, with a nod.
I felt thrilled. ‘Do you remember anything now, anything about the village where we used to live?’ I asked, studying his face.
He frowned for a moment. ‘No,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘Don’t worry, you will remember everything. I will tell you all about our lives in the village where we used to live.’
‘Okay, Mother.’
‘This is our new home,’ I told him. ‘Once you get used to it, you will have your own room, across from mine. It’s a very big house, and we have some very good people helping to take care of it. You met some of them yesterday. You will meet the others today. I’m sure everyone will like you.’
He beamed with delight. ‘Can we take a look round?’ he asked. And, suddenly coming alive, he pushed the sheets aside and jumped out of bed.
‘Yes, come, I will show you!’
From that moment, he was like a child plugged into the source of happiness after a time of very sad experiences.
*
He enjoyed instant popularity in the house. When Oyi asked him how old he was, he turned to me. ‘You’re going to be nine soon,’ I told him and he nodded. Despite the age difference between him and the house helps, he related with them as if they were his new-found friends. He asked their names; he asked about their families; and he asked what they did when they were not working in the house. And he told them tha
t I was his mother, but that he had forgotten everything about our lives in the village where we used to live.
‘Mother will teach me everything, and I will remember again,’ he said.
He was so full of life that the house, which used to be very quiet, soon began to ring with voices and incessant laughter. It was as if his coming had shaken the house from an ancient slumber, and as if he came with a dozen friends. He wanted to know what everyone was doing at every point in time, and he offered to help, even if the task was more than he could handle. With him around, everyone was encouraged to work much harder. He came to be known as the little master of the house and he showed a maturity and kindliness that belied his age. I realised, with great delight, that the bad experience he had suffered had turned him into an even better child. He had always been a good boy, but now he exuded a vibrant personality that infected everyone with happiness.
It was Oyi who first took him into the village after a few days. He felt so thrilled to see children playing all around. Some were flying kites of different colours and sizes; others played games with snail shells in the sand. Soon he broke away from Oyi and joined in a boisterous game of football. And he displayed such skills that the other kids gathered round him when the game had ended. They told him he was a great player, and they asked who he was.
‘My name is Noah,’ he said. ‘I live with my mother and some good people in the big house over there.’ He pointed in the general direction of our house. ‘I just arrived a few days ago to join my mother.’
The other kids introduced themselves. Among them was Ladu, who was about the same age as Noah; Bekes, who was slightly older; and Tudoh, who was older than all of them, but was smallest in size. They wanted to know where Noah learned his skills and they asked if he cared to play with them every day.
‘Yes, I would love to play with you every day,’ he said, overjoyed.
‘Maybe you could teach us some of your skills,’ Tudoh said.
