Amarts's Notes

Christiana walked down an untarred road to locate the blue building, and conscious of her shoes fighting off tight grips of aggrieved concrete on the swampy road. The path was mud-spattered and she had to admit her heels, a pair of Christian Loubotin, were not exactly the best footwear for a road that dingy. She dragged her feet until a compounded smell of garbage, urine and faeces accosted her. Once the sight of a little boy emptying his bowel in a black, crumpled cellophane bag on a heap of refuse without fear of confrontation hit her, she hastened her strides. Looking ahead, she saw a blue multi-tenanted building and her heart leapt. In front of the house, she noticed two women, one of whom was seated on a wooden stool and breastfeeding her baby, while the other woman, a lanky as the word went, stood behind the mother, braiding her hair.             “Good afternoon,” she greeted the two women.  Her gaze rested on the lanky woman who appeared to have a more welcoming look.

                                                            Adamu stared curiously at Christiana from the rear-view mirror as he moved the vehicle to the road Christiana had vowed never to pass again. He wanted to be sure she was in her right mind. He had doubted her, taking her words lightly the first time she ordered him to drive her to Oshodi. Having emphasized how serious she was, he started to doubt if she was alright. He reminded her several times how she had sworn that she would never pass through Oshodi again, but she reminded him that she was his boss so he had no right to question her decision. From that moment he kept quiet as he drove but he knew within himself that he would never be her superman or hero anymore. Should they encounter any trouble, he would take to his heels.  At the same corner of the street from where the ‘area boys’ rushed out from a week ago, she told Adamu to put the car to a halt. “Hope no problem, madam?” he asked, although he had promised

“Honey,” Christiana said, standing at the door post of her room. “Why are you not sleeping?” She walked up to her and after she threaded her arms around her neck. “I've been thinking about you,” Honey replied. “Why?” Christiana looked curious. “You are so lucky Mommy, just like a fairy tale princess,” Honey replied and Christiana laughed softly. “How am I lucky?’ “You are beautiful and very happy. Will I grow up to be very beautiful and happy like you?” Honey asked and Christiana was mute. She wished she could tell her daughter how sad and confused her life was. “My Honey, you will grow up to be better than me in every aspect. You will be more beautiful and you will be very happy. A

After the surprise party, later at night Christiana sat still on her bed staring at the painting Bayo made some years ago. The painting was beautiful and she knew it would have won the heart of so many people if only Bayo had the opportunity to exhibit such a beautiful artwork. His choice of colours was outstanding and the moral of the painting was thoughtful. The painting was about an old woman with many busy hands. She knew the painting was about his grandmother who worked round the clock just because of him. Tears filled her eyes as she remembered how hard Bayo's grandmother had worked just to give him a good life. She wondered, why had he chosen such a horrible lifestyle? She wished she could ask him why he ran away when her parents told him that she was pregnant. He should have stayed. If only he had stayed with her parents, he would have had a good life. Without knocking her mother burst into the room smiling. Quickly, she put Bayo’s painting underneath her pillow