I try to tell her how much I loved her child, which does not mean I’m trying to take him from her. She’ll pretend to understand but deep down I knew she wasn’t happy. But there was nothing I could do about this, I just couldn’t stop loving her baby. He was like a son to me.
In the next two days, he would be celebrating his fourth birthday. I’d promised to buy him a big, beautiful colorful football, which was something he’d wanted for a long. He told me in his tiny little voice he wanted to be a footballer.
Why do you want to be a footballer?” I remember asking him.
“Because I want to appear on television like Yekini,” He said he knew the names of all the football stars on television.
“But can ‘you play like Yekini?” I teased.
“Aha … yes now. In school, I used to play and score many goals” He ‘replied.
His handsome features broke into a smile. He looked every bit like his father. I gathered him in my arms and I gave him a peck.
“Okay, I’ll buy you a ball for your birthday,” I told him. –
“A big ball?” He asked, his face eager and questioning.
“Yes, a big beautiful ball”, I replied with a smile.
Since that day, he would come into my room, lay in my arms, and remind me of my promise to buy him a big ball.
This night, he had come as usual but he didn’t know when he fell asleep.
Later, his mother came to pick him but I’d told her to let him sleep. By tomorrow, we’d visit the shops at the roundabout together and buy his ball.
That night, I returned to bed but couldn’t sleep. My mind was troubled.
The black dog and owl I’d just seen didn’t make things any better. Silently, I recited a Psalm until I drifted back to sleep.
The next day was a Saturday. I did my laundry in preparation for work the coming week. Later, I prepared to take Kabir across the road to the shops by the roundabout and pick up his ball. If I’d known the tragedy that would befall me, I won’t have stepped an inch outside. But like a blind man, I couldn’t see, am I lacked the power to peep into the future and predict what was to happen. The frightful incident last night should have been a warning signal but I chose to ignore it. As a result, I lost everything and plunged headlong into death. It was tragic.
I left the’ house that day with Kabir tagging closely behind. He was wearing his Jeans shorts with T-shirt and a face cap. He looked really excited and I left him to follow at his own pace. He was enjoying himself. His mother had wanted him to stay home because of his lesson teacher who normally came by 3’0 clock but I’d insisted he should come along since it would take another hour before his lesson was due.
Reluctantly, his mother accepted. To disagree was to indirectly tell me that I had no right over her son. Together, we walked down the street until we came to the main road. Across the street, a group of boys playing football disinterestedly, I’d given them a glance. Briefly, I looked back to make sure Kabir was following behind. Suddenly, I saw the blue ball sail through the air toward our direction. It bounced on the ground, rolled across the road, and mid-way, it stopped. I ignored it and went on my way. But Kabir did not. Before I realized what he was about to do, it was too late, immediately the ball stopped in the middle of the road, and he went for it, not knowing there was an oncoming car speeding fast toward him.
Many times, I overheard her tell her friends or relations that I’d cunningly taken her son away from her. On hearing such things, I don’t get annoyed. Instead, I would approach her like a good sister should and explain to her how much I’d wanted a child but couldn’t have one. I tried to tell her how much I loved her child, which does not mean I’m trying to take him from her. She’ll pretend to understand but deep down I knew she wasn’t happy.
But there was nothing I could do about this, I just couldn’t stop loving her baby. He was like a son to me.
In the next two days, he would be celebrating his fourth birthday. I’d promised to buy him a big, beautiful and colorful football, which was something he’d wanted for a long. He told me in his tiny little voice he wanted to be a footballer.
“Why do you want to be a footballer?” I remember asking him.
“Because I want to appear on television like Yekini”. He said he knew the names of all the football stars on television.
“But can ‘you play like Yekini?” I teased.
“Aha •.. yes now. In school, I used to play and score many goals” He ‘replied.
His handsome features broke into a smile. He looked every bit like his father. I gathered him in my arms and I gave him a peck.
“Okay, I’ll buy you a ball for your birthday,” I told him. –
“A big ball?” He asked, his face eager and questioning.
“Yes, a big beautiful ball”, I replied with a smile.
Since that day, he would come to my room, lay in my arms and remind me of my promise to buy him a big ball.
This night, he had come as usual but he didn’t know when he fell asleep.
Later, his mother came to pick him but I’d told her to let him sleep. By tomorrow, we’d visit the shops at the roundabout together and buy his ball.
That night, I returned to bed but couldn’t sleep. My mind was troubled.
The black dog and owl I’d just seen didn’t make things any better. Silently, I recited a Psalm until I drifted back to sleep.
On getting to the road with Kabir, I saw the oncoming car. I dashed forward, my hands out-stretched, my mouth opens in a soundless cry, my eyes wide with terror. Then the screeching of tires as the driver tried to avoid running into him. But it was too late. There was a deafening sound as the car bumped into him, lifting him up into the air, then a loud thud as his body hit the ground. I ran forward towards the lifeless body but there was nothing I could do anymore, he was dead.
I couldn’t cry, I was beyond crying. I just stared at the body, not knowing what else to do. I didn’t know how I got home or who took me but on getting back home, the consequences of what had just happened were overbearing. I knew the implications. The mother on seeing her son’s body fainted. She was revived. When she stood up, she took another look at her son, she went back into the neighborhood and shook with the sound of weeping.
The house was filled with people who came in large numbers to sympathize. When his father got home, no one could tell him. He trashed himself on the ground many times until people feared for his life.
That day, he cried like a woman. I was just confused. I knew sooner or later, people would start insinuating I had something to do with the death of the boy because I didn’t have a child of my own. Forgetting that I loved him with all my heart and would have willingly given my life in exchange for his. Honestly, I would. But no one would believe me, least of all, his mother.
That night, as I got to bed, I thought about my predicament. I mean this inability to have a child. If it had not been for this, I wouldn’t have found myself in this situation. I began to cry as the events of the day finally took its toll. Jerking sobs surged through my body when I re-called that the source of my sorrow wasn’t of my making. Even the Lord who created me, created me fertile. It was because of what my father did long ago that I’m now barren, something I know nothing about, something which I now bear the sordid burden. It was an evil thing which happened in an unfortunate past. A past which left my father dying silently on his sick bed, his eyes deep and hollow from the fear of death. And as death eventually crept in, he turned, twisted, jerked, hoping he could evade the cold, gripping hands which was silently but unceasingly luring him, urging him on further and deeper into a dark bottomless pit, where the wicked shall live in burning torment until world everlasting.
…To Be Continued
