I HAVE A FATHER

I always looked at my mother in awe and deep admiration. Perhaps it was because of her dogged stride in bringing up two children singlehandedly, or maybe it was her inexplicable love for an unseen being she called God.

“Wale!” she yelled, which was her usual way of calling my attention. I snapped out of my thought, but still acted as though I didn’t hear her. “Adewale!” she cried again, this time with much more power in her voice. I knew a third call will signify my temporary voyage from mother earth. “Yes mama!” I screamed back as I ran towards her in the kitchen. “Na only me get children for this area?” she rhetorically asked, “or you want to kill me before my time?” she continued.

Experience had taught me not to look her in the eye, or even respond when she asked such questions. I bowed my head, and acted as though I was sorry. It seemed to be working, when an unexpected giggle found its way out of my mouth. The next thing I heard was “koi”, a hard knock had landed on my head sharply followed by “you must be very stupid, so I am now a mad person to be laughed at abi?”

“Where is Sade your sister?” she enquired.
“She’s in her room, she’s not feeling fine” I replied.
“Ah! What is wrong with her? What did she eat? Since when did it start? Who did she visit?” my mother blurted out questions whilst being half way into the room.

Sade was lying on the bed covered in a blanket. Her skin was looking pale, her eyes were yellow, her hair was grey and had started shedding on the pillow, her lips were white and cracked, and she looked extremely skinny with all her bones clamouring attention from within her skin.
“Sade!” my mother screamed,
“Jesus!”
“Who did this to you ooo? Who did I offend?” she had started crying as she held Sade in her arms. The next thing I heard was “my God, you did not promise me this. You said affliction will not arise a second time. You said my husband will be the last person I will bury with my hand.” Sade was still in her arms, looking hideous and almost lifeless.
“Kalabrande kus kalitali trandaya” she blasted out in tongues. Oh how I loved seeing my mother like that – praying. I often wondered how she knew whoever she was talking to was listening, or if he actually even existed.

“Woosh!” a hot slap landed on my face. “You want her to die abi? Oya start praying” my mother yelled amidst her tears. I didn’t know how to pray, so I just made sure my mouth moved visibly so my mother could see it. I had barely started lip-synching, when my mother shouted vigorously,
“No way! You cannot die!”
“You will not die! I refuse to bury anyone again!”
She had dropped the lifeless body of my sister on the bed, removed her scarf and tied it around her waist and was spitting out tongues.
As she moved, everything attached to her body moved along with her.
Sade was dead? I couldn’t believe it. She was no longer breathing; her eyes were wide open and not blinking.
“Sade!” I cried out, hot tears streaming down my face. At this point, I didn’t know what was happening, but a strong belief in the God my mother professed overwhelmed me. Wherever he was, he just had to do something.
As if I was being controlled, I blurted out in tongues, still holding my sister in my arms and crying. I didn’t know what I was saying, and I didn’t care either.
It was a war of tongues – my mother’s versus mine. The house was shaking and the environment was intense. We must have been at it for close to six hours, when all of a sudden,
“atchew” Sade sneezed.
“Atchew, atchew” she sneezed two more times.
And for the first time in my life, I realised that I loved my sister as I had never been happier my whole life. A smile spread across my face, as hot tears profusely streamed down my face – tears of joy I believe they call it.  My mother had switched from tongues to praise,
“Olorun agbaye o, you are mighty” she sang as she danced round the room.

“I’m thirsty” Sade said. As I stood up to go get her water, a new realization dawned on me. A realization that I wasn’t alone, I HAD A FATHER.

Samuel Idowu Boroh.