Choices

by Nsinem Ukpoho

  “Val, I will be travelling to the village tomorrow. I have to tell your uncles what is happening. Although I called to tell them, I still need to speak with them one on one”, she said as we leaned on a black vehicle In the parking lot.

  “How long do you intend to stay and how will I cope?” I asked. She sensed my fear and answered, “Don’t worry, I will leave early in the morning after attending to your father and I will come back in the evening”. Her reply gave me a little strength. “Have you told daddy?” I asked. She shook her head and answered, “I have not. He is only aware of the operation. He doesn’t even know how much is involved and the fact that we are yet to find a match. I will speak to his brothers. First of all, I want your father’s share of the land his father left for him to be sold”.

  “Mommy, why didn’t you do this three weeks ago, instead of waiting this long. If daddy has a piece of land, you should have sold it so that we can use that money to save his life! ”, I exclaimed.

  “My dear, it is not that easy. I was told it is an ancestral land and cannot be sold. Your father once told me that none of them is allowed to sell any of the land they inherited from their father, because he also inherited it from his father. That is why I haven’t mentioned my decision to your father. I don’t want to hear anything contrary to my decision”, she said clearly upset herself. I just couldn’t believe my ears. So people place more importance on property than life. ‘What the hell is ancestral land’, I asked myself.

  “Your father will not stop me from selling his share of that land. God forbid he dies, he is free. I will be the widow with two young children to raise. He made the decision of discontinuing his drugs and saving money for your education. Where is that money now? Hasn’t it been used to pay his hospital bills and on food? He doesn’t get to make the next decision, I do”. My mom would have kept talking if I hadn’t stopped her.

  Her voice was rising steadily, which was very common with her when she was hurt and trying to talk away the pain. I hugged her and she kept quiet and started sobbing silently. When the sobs subsided, she took out her handkerchief from her purse and cleaned her face.

  “I’m also going to plead with all his relatives at the village to come and get tested because we are yet to find a donor” she added. “Val, I have to tell you the truth, I’m lost”, my mother said. Those words touched my heart, I took her hands in mine, and we walked back to the ward. By the time we got there we were all smiles. My father asked us where we went and my mom made up an excuse. The way he looked at us proved he didn’t buy what my mom said but since he didn’t say anything else on the subject, neither did we. I could tell he also had some concerns he was not sharing.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  My mother was held by some friends to prevent her from hurting herself as she sobbed uncontrollably while we walked to Hawkins cemetery; my brother and I held his framed pictures. Tears just kept pouring down my cheeks as we found our way through the gravesides to a freshly dug grave. After the pastor performed the final graveside rites, the pallbearers took over. As they started lowering the casket into the grave, I dropped the picture to the floor and raced to the casket, catching everyone off guard. They recovered quickly and some people rushed and held me. I kept yelling, “Stop it please. Let’s check again. He is not dead”. People were singing hymns along with the choir while the pallbearers continued their work and my younger brother was told to pay his last respect to his father. The scream I heard was my voice, as I kept shouting ‘no’ while he gently scattered sand on the descending coffin. I struggled free from the people that held me and dashed to the graveside I heard a voice faint and unclear, “Val, wake up you are dreaming”, it said. The voice got clearer and I woke to see Eme, a nurse that tends to my father’s ward. “Have you gone to check on your father ?”, she enquired. “Don’t forget you are here to watch a patient”,I sat up from the bench I was sleeping on. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my palm. When I was a bit settled, I found my way to father’s ward.

  He was sound asleep. I must have sat there for about fifteen minutes but I was still feeling restless, my thoughts just kept moving from the nightmare to the hopeless situation we had found ourselves. To calm my nerves, I took a stroll to the main hospital, the scenario at the administrative block is more pleasing than in the accident and emergency block. People are often rushed in an ambulance, taxis; some that can walk are supported by relatives or friends as they walk in, pain and anguish evident on their faces. On some occasions, I have seen them carry out dead bodies. Each time, I run to my father’s ward to check if he is still alive.

  I walked up to the entrance and sat on the stone by the side of the building and watched people walk in and out of the hospital. I just couldn’t stop the tears from rushing down my cheeks, if anything happened to my father my future and academic pursuit would be doomed. I know he wanted the best for his children, but I wished he had used the money he had set aside for my education to buy his drugs and stabilize his health; I haven’t mentioned this to anyone but I felt responsible for what happened. I feel it’s entirely my fault, if he had bought his drugs instead of saving the money for my education, he would not be in this situation. I had tried to be strong, not once did I shed tears, I always felt I had to be strong for my mom and brother, but all of a sudden the flood gates were opened and I just couldn’t stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. I was so engulfed in my grief, sobbing uncontrollably with my head on my thighs.

  “Is everything ok”, I heard a voice say. I raised my head to find a young man crouch over me.” He walked up to me and sat down beside me, I adjusted creating more room for him to sit. “I heard you cry. Sometimes, it feels better when you talk about it”.

  I poured out my heart to him and he listened patiently. He spoke in a very calm and reassuring manner, “please be strong and take heart. Breaking down will not help your father”. When he was done talking to me, I felt better. He gave me a warm hug, got up and left, saying he had some engagements that needed his attention. I sat there for a few minutes enjoying the peace and calm I felt in my spirit and gratitude towards the stranger that was there when I needed a listening ear. I walked back to my father’s ward and met him sleeping. I sat by his bedside and watched him sleep. My thoughts wandered to Valentine and I realized that the whole situation my father was in had taken my mind off him; he had promised to send a laptop and a mobile phone through his friend Patrick, so we can communicate. I made a mental note to stop by Patrick’s house to collect the items.

  My brother Godwin joined me at the hospital and spent about one and a half hour alone with my dad. My dad specifically asked me to excuse them. Afterwards, my brother and I spent an hour chatting about everything apart from my dad’s health. The situation was hard on everyone and my brother’s way of dealing with it, was not talking about it. I tried once and he was mute leaving me to talk to myself. When I sensed his unease, I dropped the topic. Since then we avoided the topic, except when we pray together. About nine o’clock in the evening, I told him to go home to avoid meeting with the heavy traffic along Mount Zion Road. I was left alone with my dad. Earlier in the day while Godwin was with my Dad I had gone home and on arriving in the compound. Mama Nneka had told me that my mom had called her, and asked her to tell me to spend the night with my Dad. What she didn’t tell me was how uncomfortable it would be. My mom came back around eleven in the morning. After she saw her husband and spoke with him we both strolled to the University of Calabar Secondary School and sat on the school field. We sat in silence for a few minutes, resting from the long trek.

  “Mommy, don’t keep me in suspense. How did it go? Any good news ?” I asked my anxiety very evident in my voice.

  “Your Uncle has agreed to sell your father’s portion of the land. He even found someone that was willing to buy; the person is offering six million naira”, she said not looking excited.

  “Why aren’t you happy about it, that is the only good news we have heard in a while now”, I said.

/>   “We don’t know how soon the man is willing to pay and we are still two million naira short. Your uncle doesn’t want to come and take the test, he said out rightly that he has a big family, and if they both die in the process it would make no sense”

  “You should have tried convincing him”, I cut in.

  “Who said I didn’t try I did, and that when he told me that even if he doesn’t die he does not want to end up with any physical deformity”.

  We both stayed silent for a while observing the scenery and the scent of newly cut grass that was filling our nostrils. “But mummy, I know daddy’s relationship with his brother is not that close-knit but I would never have guessed that he would pass up an opportunity to save his brother’s life”, I said breaking the silence.

  “Theirs had always been a difficult relationship; your uncle once told your father that, since he got married he has turned his back on his blood relations, those that took care of him. Everything just became clear”. Now I know why, but I hope he also knows that his only brother’s life is on the line”. My mom did not respond to what I said, after about five minutes she said, “Let’s go back, your dad might be awake by now”. We walked back in silence. When we got to my father’s ward, the nurse on duty told us the doctor wanted to see us. While we were sitting in the waiting room a doctor walked by, he stopped and walked up to us. I recognized him immediately to be the man that comforted me that day; I noticed my mother recognized him too. They exchange pleasantries, my mother introduced him to me, as the doctor handling my father’s case what a small world, I thought. He shook my hand and smiled, enquiring about how I was doing.

  One week later, my mother told me that the land had been sold and the buyer had already paid money into their joint account. “Val sweet, finally there is progress!” she exclaimed. I was really happy but I knew we still needed a bone marrow donor and the balance of two million naira. When we told Doctor Alfred the news, he was very happy and offered to give us the remaining money. My joy knew no bounds. I was really excited.

  It felt as though, a huge load had been lifted off my shoulders, but there was still the issue of a donor. As I slept that night at home, I felt light and happy. When I told my brother the news the following morning, he too was very excited. He said something that touched my heart, he said “at last I can now breathe. I can now have faith. I have been waking up every morning with the fear of my father leaving me”.

  The following morning, I went about my normal routine of making breakfast for four, my brother, my mother, myself and my father, which I would take to him. When its time to go to the hospital. I felt really dizzy, and nauseous; all through the period my father had been in the hospital, we had neglected ourselves; our health and appearance. I had the feeling I had contracted malaria. Before getting to the hospital, I decided to stop at Patrick’s house to find out why Valentine hadn’t sent the parcel he promised. Once again, I met his absence; the gateman still had no idea if Patrick had gotten any parcel. The short walk from the hospital gate to the accident and emergency wing seemed like an eternity. By the time I got to the ward, I was sweaty and out of breath. My father was awake but he was a caricature of his former vibrant self. My mother kept on looking at me as if she were studying a specimen. Just before she left for the house she called me to the waiting room and asked, “V girl, are you okay? You get tired easily these days”. I told her I wasn’t feeling well, she nodded and left. Something about the way she was studying me got me worried. The following day was worse. I woke up to a splitting headache and a very high temperature. As I was sweeping the living room, the room started spinning, I held on to the chair to steady myself; the room was really spinning and the headache wasn’t helping. The room started getting dark and then nothing.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I came to hours after in a hospital bed. My mother was sitting on a plastic chair by my side; she was sobbing. When she noticed I was awake, she stood up and started pacing up and down, “Mummy is everything alright ?”, I asked. She didn’t say a word, I got really nervous and the way she paced wasn’t helping. “Mummy what am I doing here”. “Everything is okay Valerie”, she replied, although that was supposed to make me feel better, it didn’t. The way she called my name alone made it clear all was not okay. My mother only calls me Valerie when something is wrong or I do something wrong. The room was quiet except for the sound of turning pages made by a young lady sitting by the bedside of an older woman who was on a drip and asleep. She was lost in the romance novel she was reading made evident by the cover.

  My mother finally took a seat beside my bed and the way she looked at me made me avert her gaze. “You are pregnant “, she said almost in a whisper. I felt a variety of emotions; shame, confusion and panic. What transpired between Val and I just flashed before my eyes like a movie. I couldn’t say anything and neither did my mother. I don’t know if the other lady in the room heard what my mom said but at that point, I didn’t care. The door opened and the doctor walked in, It was Doctor Alfred. After he was done attending to the other patient he came to my bedside. After examining me and scribbling something in my folder, he said, “Congratulations, you are four weeks pregnant”.

  The news was definitely not a congratulatory one.

  “You have malaria”.

  Turning to my mother, he said, “come to my office and get the prescription for her medication”.

  My mother left with him and returned with some drugs. She sat beside me and said nothing. The silent treatment only made the room heavy. I could see the pain and disappointment on her face,

  “Valerie, why would you decide to get pregnant?

  What were you hoping to achieve by sleeping with a man at your age?”, she paused to look me straight in the eye.

  “Was it money? Tell me what pushed you into it. Your father and I have tried our best to give you everything you need, everything!” she exclaimed. A nurse walked in and admonished her,

  “Madam, lower your voice, you are not the only one here”. My mother got up and left the room. Valerie’s mother worked out of her daughter’s room, she didn’t know which way to go; she just leaned on the wall, mainly because she didn’t have the strength to take another step. Valerie started shivering; I don’t know if it was the weather or the fear and shame that gripped me. She returned few minutes after. My mother has a way of whispering and the person sitting close by wouldn’t hear a word, “I don’t support abortion, so you will have this baby. When you sleep with a man without protection then you want to have a baby for him”. She got up from the plastic chair and sat on the bed, “who got you pregnant”, she asked. I told her and explained why he travelled. “So you not only wanted to add more problems to the one I already have, you picked a boy that is nowhere to be found”, she fired back. “Not to talk of the fact that he is Igbo and from a very rich home, they would think you’re a gold digger!” she exclaimed.

  Later that evening, I was discharged, I went to check on my father and it was a relief to know that my Mom hadn’t told him. It would just make things worse.

  The following day on my way to the hospital I met Dr Alfred driving out, he called out to me. He parked by the side of the road and I joined him there, “I have been looking for you, I need to speak with you”.

  “I hope all is well”, I asked. It was as though he read my mind, “it’s not about your father”, he answered, I exhaled, I wasn’t even aware I was holding my breath all along. “Join me in the car let’s go somewhere we can talk. I won’t take much of your time”. He drove to Hungry Man Fast Food and Restaurant. I waited for him upstairs and he returned with our food. “Any plans pertaining to your pregnancy, do you want to keep it ?”, he asked. I told him, I have to. He went on to enquire about the father and I told him everything. The circumstances in which he left and the lack of communication I was experiencing.

  “Valerie, I can’t understand or explain why, but I feel I should help you. So if you ever need my help let me know”. I know men make many promi
ses they don’t keep but I felt it deep down in my soul that Dr Alfred wasn’t making empty promises. One week later, my mother called me aside and told me that Dr Alfred told her that if a bone marrow transplant is not done in the next week my father might not make it.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Two days after our talk at the restaurant, Dr Alfred gave us the good news, a match had been found for my father and the operation was scheduled to take place in three days. All that was left was to prepare him for the operation. The following morning, I was at home preparing to go to the hospital. By preparing, I mean multitasking; rice was simmering on the stove while I was sweeping. I was distracted by a knock on the door. I opened it and my mom walked in. “How many times will I tell you to always open the doors and louvers before you sweep”, she walked past me, came inside, and sat down. She went at it again, “today you will open the door and windows; tomorrow you will open only the doors and the louvers will remain closed. The next day the door will be closed while the louvers will be open...”