Bedtime Story-Episode Seven

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.

           

“I am looking for an occupant of this house. His name is Bayo.” She paused to catch her breath before adding “he is also called Tiger.”

           

The lanky woman held the braid she was plaiting in one hand, and bent over to speak to the other woman. “Emi o gbo oyinbo nla” both women lunched into an annoying cackle.

           

Christiana understood what the lanky woman said to mean, “I don’t understand too complex grammar” but regrettably, she wasn’t so good at speaking Yoruba, her native language. She racked her brains to come up with words in Yoruba. Another woman, younger this time, stormed out of the house shouting for help. Her drama tore the tranquil ambience of the house into flying shreds. As she wailed, her loose wrapper joined in. Seeing that it needed some space to do an independent round of wailing, the wrapper peeled off her dangling breasts to rest its creased edges on her beaded waist.

           

Some neighbours, mostly women, struggled to contain and lift her off the floor. She soon broke loose from their hold, threw herself to the floor so she could double her drama. The loose wrapper soon vacated her waist. It sheaved to the sticky dirt on the rough earth, leaving just her underwear.  A mammoth crowd thronged the front of the house and the noise of chattering voices swelled. Some hefty men struggled to hold a man whose eyes were bloodshot with rage. He yelled with terror as he struggled to wriggle free to use his cutlass on the woman rolling on the bare floor shouting, “God! Why did you create men?” in Yoruba.  On one side of the house, little girls and boys who hawked food stuffs forgot their mission, and instead, drew closer to get a full dosage of the scene.

           

While all this drama went on, Christiana looked around, eager to find Bayo in the crowd, but all effort to locate him proved abortive. When she came across an old man standing a distance away from the horde, she walked up to him, hoping he would have some information that would be helpful to locate Bayo. However, the man was more interested in feeding her with a hilarious narration about what had caused the fight between the man and the woman. The man told Christiana that the married couple had always been an enigma, one minute completely in love, the next in utter chaos. But it was not such a jolly time for Christiana, she was exhausted. Expediently, when the man paused to catch his breath, Christiana took the cue to ask if he knew Bayo. When the man shook his head in the negative, anger welled up inside her until she could almost taste it. She sighed and thought to herself, “Why do I have to look for a full grown man who ran away from his responsibility.”

           

She looked down at her shoes, stinky swamp mud stuck to her once shiny heels. “Poor Christian Loubotin heels,” she thought. Without a second thought, she hurried out of the crowded compound into the road, heading out of the street. She walked a little distance out of the street, before she stopped. Right from where she stood, she looked the down the road, surprisingly, she caught a quick glance of a blue building down the road. At that moment, she remembered Oyinbo’s words, “down down down the road.”  She walked further down the road, feeling sludge seeping into her feet. “Poor Christian Loubotin heels,” she muttered again.

             

In front of the house she noticed a man with a base ball cap sitting on a bench. His face was buried in his hands and Christiana walked fearfully to him, but the man didn’t notice her presence.

           

“Hello,” she called out for his attention. When the man looked up, her heart skipped.  She became cold, and her mouth went dumb as she gazed at the equally shocked Bayo. While she was thinking of how to start pouring out the words she had been holding back, Bayo was impressed at the way she had grown to be more beautiful and elegant than she had been nine years ago. But both of them couldn’t say what they had in mind for a while. To Christiana’s dismay, Bayo bowed his head again. She was angry at the way he didn’t have any word to say to her.

“Bayo!” Christiana finally broke the brief silence and he looked up again. “What is wrong with you?” Christiana let out a scream, but Bayo could only stare at her. “Look at what you have become.”  She paused to catch her breath and then she continued, “What happened to you? Why…” She paused again when it occurred to her that Bayo didn’t show any interest in her words. “I shouldn’t have come. I knew it would turn out to be a very bad idea,” Christiana said, turning to leave. She was angry that he didn’t bother to tell her to stay. She walked on wishing he could just call her name, but when she looked back, he was still staring at her. She was very angry this time, not only about the blank expression on his face, but for the reason that he now had a cigarette clamped on his lips. She turned her eyes away and walked on briefly. When she walked back towards him, she said, “I don’t even know what to say to you except that your daughter would be ashamed to see you like this.”

           

“My daughter” Bayo stood on his feet. He looked so taken aback that when his cigarette stumbled out of his mouth to the floor, he didn’t notice.

“Please stop the pretending like you didn’t know I was pregnant. Why did you run away? Why? After all my parents did to make you stay, you ran away. Why? You-”

           

“I didn’t know you were pregnant!”

           

“Stop lying!”

           

“Your parents chased me out of their house!” Bayo yelled. “That was before they had me locked up in a police cell over an offence I didn’t commit.” Bayo added.

           

Christiana became mystified. She became short of words.  Confusion reigned and she stammered a weak, “My parents…..” She paused to catch her breath. “They told me that you ran away as soon as they informed you that you made me pregnant,” Christiana said.

           

“So you didn’t know that I was pregnant with your child?” Christiana asked in doubt. She found it difficult to believe that her parents had lied to her. “They told me that they persuaded you to stay, but you ran away.” They stared at themselves in disbelief. Not long, an awkward silence washed over them. Christiana felt very uncomfortable with the silence. She was forming her words before she noticed Bayo walking towards her.  She became tensed as she thought of what he was up to. He stopped just a few distance away from her. His eyes had become bloodshot when he said, “Your parents are very bad people. They are as wicked as the devil. They started to ruin my life from the moment they killed my grandmother.” He paused to catch his breath. And for the first time, he noticed just how heavily he was breathing. “They killed her. They killed the only hope that I had.” He walked a few distance away from her.   

           

“How?” Christiana looked perplexed. She found it difficult to believe him. She knew his grandmother died, but her mother told her that she died peacefully in her sleep and they mourned her for so long.

            

“I swear to God, all your words have gotten me perplexed. I don’t know what you are talking about. How did she die?”

           

“She fell in your mother’s bathroom. Before she had the accident, she had complained to your parents about the tiles that were too slippery. But they never listened to her and they told her to do the job she was paid for. One evening, she cried out from the bathroom after she fell and hit her head against the water closet. She had a deep cut and bled profusely. When your parents arrived from work, I pleaded with them to take my grandmother to the hospital that she was in pain, but your mother said my grandmother was overreacting and I should give her a painkiller. They never came to my grandmother’s room to see how she was doing. I watched her groaning all through the night. If we had relatives in Lagos, I would have gone seeking their help that night that she passed away in pain. Your parents, especially your mother felt guilty that she died because of their negligence. They told me never to tell anyone how she died and they promised to be by my side every day of my life. Three months after, your mother accused me of stealing her jewelries, so I was locked in the police cell for months.”

           

As though echoing his grief, the wind howled, blowing away anything its strength could carry. Afterwards, there was a loud clap of thunder and then the heaven released heavy drops of roaring, hissing rain. They both stood under the shade in front of the house, seeking shelter from the heavy rain.  Without giving it a second thought, Christiana threw her arms around him and he held her. Despite the smell of alcohol emanating from his perspiration, she didn’t loosen her grip on him. She believed every of his words. Her parents must have chased him out of their house because he got her pregnant. Her mother’s jewelries were never missing. After Christiana loosened her hold on him, Bayo narrated the sad story about how his relatives had neglected him. He had no accommodation so he had to sleep under a bridge for months and he had to beg alms before he could eat.

“Bayo, I am so sorry about what happened,” Christian said in between sobs. “I am so sorry,” she said again and Bayo nodded. Her phone rang. The caller was Adamu. He called to ask if she was fine and then reminded her that they were running late for an appointment.

“I have to go now,” Christiana said.

“In the rain?”

“Oh!”

There was a short-lived silence before Bayo ruined it by saying, “you won’t tell me about the child?”

“Oh!” She sighed. “Her name is Honey.” There was joy in her heart as she told Bayo about Honey. It was the first time she ever did what was right regardless of how her parents would feel. She had become the woman she had always wanted to be. They would be mad at her, but she knew she would face their wrath if they learned of it.

“Please, can I see her?” Bayo asked with caution, although he knew it was his right. But she may perhaps decide to keep her away from him since he had nothing to offer her. “Please,” he pleaded again.

           

“All right,” Christiana said.

 After a week that Christiana didn’t return, Bayo lost hope that he would ever see her again or his daughter. He had been ejected from his house because of his overdue rent. He didn’t want to leave the vicinity because of Christiana, so every other day; he went in front of the house to await her return.

That same week was the toughest week Christian ever encountered in her life because one of the days of the week. She heard Honey giggle as she said, “I love you, Uncle Tunde,” when Tunde informed her about his plans to take her to Disneyland in the United States during her holiday. Then Tunde had informed Christiana that his parents would be coming over to discuss their wedding plans. So she had trouble thinking of the right way and the best time to inform her daughter about her biological father, her real father.

           

One day, exactly two weeks after Christiana’s surprise visit, Bayo felt a flood of relief when Christiana appeared, holding a chubby girl in her hand. He flew from where he stood and he lifted his girl up. Christiana didn’t have to introduce him to her before he realised she was his. She had his eyes, his skin colour and the shape of his head. She was very beautiful. Unexpectedly, he started to sob like he was a baby. He couldn’t believe he would ever see his daughter. He loosened his grip on her to stare at her several times to be sure he wasn’t in a dream.

“Thank you, Christiana,” Bayo said sobbing. “Thank you so much,” he said again.

“She is ours, not mine alone,” Christiana smiled.

“She is so beautiful,” Bayo commented. “Just like you,” he added and Christiana laughed.

“Are you sure your hands aren’t aching?” she asked. She had been wondering how he had kept her big body so long in his hands.

“I will never get tired of carrying her,” he replied, smiling. Christiana laughed more when he held her close to his chest.

 Her heart was overjoyed as she watched the way her daughter clung onto her father like she had known him from birth.  Right from the time she told the ‘Bedtime Story’ about King Jaja and the Prince to her daughter, she knew she would never have a problem choosing to know her father in spite of whom he had become. She was happy that she was able to do the right thing despite her mother’s persuasions. Christiana’s mother had severally threatened to disown her if she ever let Honey meet her real father. Initially, she found herself succumbing to her threat, but after she told the ‘Bedtime Story’ about King Jaja and the Prince, the words her daughter said, “Because the poor man is the real father and not King Jaja,” lingered in her mind.  She found herself saying, “In the Bedtime Story, the Prince chose to stay with the poor father, not King Jaja because King Jaja is not the real father. Likewise, Honey deserves to know Bayo, because Bayo is her real father, not Tunde." Those words gave her the courage to recreate a day father and daughter would come to know each other with her playing a major role in it. Nevertheless, she knew all hell would break loose when her parents got to know what she had done. But she would do everything to help Bayo get back the good life he deserved. And, she would do anything to keep Bayo and their daughter together. Now, she understood what freedom was, the freedom to be and to do.

                                THE END