Grief and Guilt

    

   I am very mute, as I stare at her skinny small lifeless body laid on the white bed in this hospital, smelling strongly of disinfectant ,it is nauseating ,but the sorrow, the guilt and the urge to cry is far more greater than the nauseating feeling I  I have right now. I look to my side at my mother,who is silently crying sitting on the plastic chair beside the bed. Which is untypical of her, this is not how she cried when dad died from diabetic causes. I think she is very shocked. She is sitting still ,the only thing not still about her is her tears,playing slide on her dark brown face past her tribal mark,chin and then unto her hands on her thighs.  I turn away from her and look at her ,my daughter, she was my daughter now ,but she is my daughter. I gave birth to her ,I remember how soaked my gown was in sweat ,blood and tears that night as the old midwife urged me to push. I wanted water ,I wanted to rest for a while but they didn't let me ,she and her younger assistant midwife until I pushed her out of my vagina painfully ,a little red bundle attached to me with a rope ,and then I passed out. It seems just like it was two days ago I woke up and was handed the new baby,my new baby to feed, dressed in a  very little gown that was just her size and wrapped in a baby blanket. I remember how ticklish her mouth felt on my dark nipples as she sucked her first milk on her first day on earth. 

I lift my hands gently and run it over her face gently.  I feel regret too , I wish I spent more time with her. My mother sniffs. But it is not my fault in any way ,I sent enough money didn't I? I worked my ass off for her ,didn't I? 

Mother sniffs again ,"She never really knew you , you were not there for her. Why didn't you come  immediately I told you that she was sick? " 

I feel angry ,mother is blaming me for a death , my presence didn't have any medical effect on her, did it? 

"Mama,she was  your granddaughter. She was like your second child, how did she die mama? How?"

This has become a blaming game, I can't take blame for my daughter's death when I don't have any blame. 

"She was the child ,you gave birth to" mama spat back.

"I placed her in your care mama"

"The same way I placed you in care of my mother?" Mama asked sarcastically.

I fold my arms ,walk to the window and look out the window into the neat hospital compound. Tears begin to slide freely down my face,rapid tears. I don't even know what to feel , grief, guilt, freedom? Yes, freedom? In the five years my daughter had lived three men tried to marry me. But then they find out about her and they leave. Now I don't have any "extra luggage". I am free now.

 I am so heartless, I shouldn't be thinking this way she was my daughter. I feel mucus flow out of my nose ,I reach to my side into my bag and bring out a handkerchief and blow my runny nose into it. A nurse walks in, followed by two student nurses ,they look younger and their uniforms are pink instead of white. The fat student nurse is holding a  folded white sheet. 

"My condolences" the nurse says to me, the eyes I see behind the  tiny reading glasses are wise and sincere.

"Thank you" Even though you people let my  daughter die . You killed my daughter, she was under your care. 

The nurse beckons to the fat nurse and she covers my daughter with the sheet. 

"When are you coming to take her corpse" the nurse asks in a way that suggested she was talking to us both. 

"Tomorrow" I say with a sniff. 

The nurse walks out ,the student nurses push the bed with my daughter after her. We have to leave soon.

"Ibironke, she was my daughter too,she was more of my daughter than yours, I was there when she had her first walk ,when she was teething her first day of school everything. So ,don't blame me. If anybody should be blamed it should be you for bringing that girl into the earth to suffer." Mum finishes with a watery sniff. 

"You know I didn't do that intentionally, I don't care mama. She was under your care, I provided money for her clothes, for her food ,for her school ,for this stupid damn hospital several times " I say and storm out of the door into the busy hallway. Busy looking doctors and nurses, ill looking emaciated patients on wheelchairs ,cleaners. I walk outside and sit on the pavement and burst into tears. 

My daughter, my daughter is gone. I never really had the chance to be her mum ,I know it is true but I can't bear to admit it. It would make me guilty of her death. My carelessness caused her to be alive in the first place. I hear screams as three women walk a screaming pregnant woman into the hospital . I stand up and walk outside ,giving way for them to pass. I wonder why my mother is not down yet , but I don't care , she killed my daughter. 

The street outside the hospital is busy ,I hail a yellow ragged taxi  that passes by and hop into it. 

"Owala bus stop" I say ,telling him where I want to go , I hand him a five hundred naira note. And rest my head on the window. I allow tears to fall freely,and I watch the streets of Lagos as my taxi whizzes by. A lorry is right beside us with a herd of  tame cattle. Soon we lose them and a car with a young wife and husband at the front seats is right beside us too. Their children play noisily at the back. 

I wonder what it would be like to be  a mother. I was a mother, but it didn't really feel like it. My mind drifts back to the past, that night I went to the party. The night I met Ade. I was a little bit young and naive, not really. I was twenty ,I was not a virgin , I had had five boyfriends.  Ade was not my sixth ,he was a fling sort of , he asked for a dance ,we danced ,we drank , I got too drunk, we danced some more ,we drank some more. We giggled and laughed unnecessarily ,I stumbled ten times ,I fell five times. He told me , "let's go" I didn't know where, but I followed him. We went into the toilet, it was reeking but it didn't really matter. Soon ,he was ravaging my body and ramming into me like his life depended on it and I stood against the wall like I was lifeless gasping quite frequently. Thirty minutes later we were out, he drove me home ,we exchanged numbers . I was drunk ,but  somehow I remembered my number. I went in ,mother was already sleeping and I did too. I woke up remembering all that transpired the previous day and I smiled. I called him ,but he didn't pick up. I called him three more times in the evening but he didn't pick up and I decided he wasn't worth it. Although I thought we could be something. We never talked since that day ,I don't even know if i really remembered his name, or maybe it was just a faint recollection ,maybe his name was Gbade, Jade, or Bode or maybe it was something entirely different like , Kelvin, Austin, Samuel , but I heard wrong because I was drunk.  A month later, blood doesn't sip from my vagina into the sanitary pad I had worn on my underwear on the day it was supposed to. I waited, blood never showed up. I dreaded the cramps and I hated the smell, but I never wanted nothing in my life at that moment as the cramps, smell and blood itself but it never showed up. Of course I was worried, but I was too scared to take a test , I bought pregnancy kits tests but I never used them. Maybe I am just stressed ,I said to myself. And waited for the next month. But it didn't show up the next month too, I got more worried , Google said it was normal ,it could be stressful, so I waited for the next month. It didn't show up, I noticed changes in my body ,my body looked bloated sort of. I felt irritated more often , I had an increased appetite. By the end of the month, I was scared and worried to the brim.  I used the kits ,it said positive ,I went to a hospital, told my mother I was going to a friend's . I did a pregnancy test. I was told that the test results would be ready next week. By next week, I slumped on the floor in the doctor's office as soon as I opened up the envelope and read its contents. When I woke up ,I was on the examining bed in the doctor's office. I remember he looked so handsome, if I was not young, newly out of university ,jobless and pregnant ,I would have kissed him. I begged him to help me,help me terminate the child. He refused, I was three months gone already. I begged and begged, I rolled on the floor,but he didn't budge. I was walked out by security guards. Outside ,I considered going to some abortion doctors ,the kind on TV. But I didn't know any, and Ade was not around to recommend me to one. I took a bike ,there was a herb maker, just at the entrance of my neighborhood. I asked for an abortion mixture. She gave me one, I gave her two hundred naira, the price. I dropped it  into my bag. I walked into the house ,greeted my mother ,walked into my room, and locked the door. I took out the bottle, shook the bottle, opened up the bottle. Its contents smelled so foul ,I couldn't bring myself to drink it. I imagined myself drinking it ,and bleeding to death ,like I saw in movies. I took a sip ,it was so bitter I spat it unto the rug. I don't know what came over me, I walked outside and handed my mother the envelope, but before she could bring it out , I said it out loud ,"I am pregnant " 

Mother had a look of shock on her face, she began to cry, "who is he",

"I don't know him,we only met once, he doesn't pick his calls"

"Are you ready?"

"I think so"

"How far are you gone?"

"Three… Months"

"Ha!"," didn't you realize on time?".

Mother cried some more, she slapped me across the back.  It stung and I cried,because it stung,and she was crying too ,and I was in deep trouble.  Mother told me not to go out, I didn't. I spent the rest of the six months indoors, mostly in my room,calling Ade and hoping he would call back one day. He never did. One night I woke up , I went to pee ,I did, as I walked back to my room ,I realized water was seeping from underneath me. I wondered why . I went back to bed. I woke up two hours later with a scream. The baby was restless in me ,knocking and twirling,maybe dancing, pushing and squeezing. Mum ran in ,rushed me to the hospital. Six months later, mum began complaining a lot about money . I weaned my baby, packed out to a former course mate's house ,found a job,and started a social media online store. Worked hard,sold hard, and sent most of the money to them . I rarely went to visit, went only once ,when she was one and some other few times she was sick.  I didn't want to see her ,the baby,she was a mistake, a careless mistake. She was a reminder of how stupid and loose I was. But to me ,I knew I was a good mother because I provided it all for her. But I knew I couldn't give her love. She got sick a lot ,mother called a lot. When she was three, my mother called ,told me she was sickle cell. Turns out Ade was an AS too. It broke me, I had a classmate in primary school who was a sickle cell too, always so sick and frail she died when she was ten. Then I wondered if she would die ,I didn't treat it as a certain fact that she would ,neither was I hopeful. I just wanted to keep justifying myself by sending more money, besides she would have died ,If I hadn't provided money long ago. 

   I wipe my tears ,you were a good mother I say to myself ,in my mind. Was I a mother? I wonder. 

"Madam why u quiet like this,your husband liff  you?" The driver says in a cherry voice and a jocular manner in his husky voice. 

I look at him through the front mirror and smile faintly.

"Make I play better Fuji song for you?"  that was not really a question, he picks up a CD and cleans it on his shorts, his left hand on the steering wheel, then he slips it into the car DVD player. 

A husky voice comes on,praising himself for being the best Fuji singer in Ibadan.  The driver sings along. I sigh and look out the window, blocking out the song and everything. I am not looking at the busy streets, I'm looking at my daughter, she smiles and waves. She skips happily around in a circle.  She smiles a teeth full smile. I go back to reality ,a driver at our left is throwing curse words at my Fuji taxi driver. They exchanged more words over the loud Fuji music from both cars, until we lost him. 

"No mind the idiot, e dey pain am say,I dey listen to Basuma and I no dey listen to Kasui '' he looks at me through the front mirror and laughs. I recline on the dusty seat ,and  sigh. Basuma starts to sing,

Mummy ooo wa pe layeeeeee

I recognize the song as an old popular Yoruba song praising mothers. I remember singing it as part of the children choir in church on several mother's days. 

A thought slipped into my mind,

Do you think your daughter would ever sing you this song?

I blink,and tears fall , I look out the window, two street hawkers hawking pure water run past me in the hot sun. We take a turn and my Fuji driver stops. We are at  Owala bus stop. I get down and wave to him. He doesn't wave back , he was nodding his head to Basuma and singing like Basuma too and was already taking a turn ready to take another customer on board. I walk down into Owala. Children just in undies walk past me, running and laughing, a fourth one is behind them running towards me ,she is a girl ,she smiles at me, she looked like my daughter's lifeless body today,but she was not sick. This was malnourishment. 

  When I get in ,I take a shower and cry in the shower for two hours. When I come out ,I cook ,but I end up not eating more than a spoon of rice and stew. I walk into my room and lay in my bed. I cry until my pillow is soaked and sleep off. 

My phone beeps,four hours later and I wake up.  It is Deji , we have been going out for almost three months now. Deji doesn't know I have a daughter. I was going to tell him or not. I didn't really want to tell him, I didn't want to lose him too. But now I'm free in a way. His text reads; I am outside, I have been knocking. Are you angry with me ,because I wanted to come along to your friend's birthday party?

I lied to him ,that I was going to a friend's birthday party, this morning, when I didn't know yet that my daughter was dead. I don't want to open the door ,I want to cry alone ,but I jump down from my bed. I love him ,so I walked out into the living room and opened the door. Deji comes in with his sweet smelling scent and greets me with a long kiss. I kiss him back, for some minutes I forget that I am supposed to be mourning, I forget why I'm supposed to be mourning. I forget I ever made a mistake. But I remember and I withdraw. I serve him rice and I watch him eat. After his food we seat and he cuddles me like a baby while I sit on his lap. 

"You don't seem fine, what is the matter?" 

"I'm fine ,I was just stressed at the party" 

"Are you sure"

"Yes"

I recall ,mum's stinging words at the hospital and my eyes became moist , I cleaned my left eyes,but my right eye is already spilling forth with tears. 

"What is wrong?" Deji asks ,wiping my tears. 

"I was not a good mother, " I say, sobbing.

"I lost my daughter, I killed my daughter, even though she was a mistake, I loved her. But I never really did realize it. And now she is dead. It is all my fault  and maybe Ade's. But it is a men's world. So it is my fault. Ade is probably married now with noisy kids,or is having a date with his 20th girlfriend or sleeping with another drunk naive girl in a club right now. I don't even know if his stupid name is Ade"

Deji had a comic  confused look on his face. I couldn't help  but laugh, so I laughed hysterically. But then I realize it is nothing to laugh about. 

"I am sorry I didn't tell you earlier, I am sorry I didn't want to tell you. I have a child. Had. She was pretty, she was sickly yet jolly. " ,I laugh, " I'm not reading a poem ,but that's just how I want to say it, and it is true" 

"Tell me about her" , Deji says surprising me. 

So I tell him everything, how I met Ade,becoming pregnant and everything, leaving home and my daughter how I felt all these years ,the guilt, the pain, the sudden urge to make Ade appear before me and punch him in the face. I don't even know what he looks like,I never really knew . But I can recall he was tall and handsome. 

Deji hugs me close and tight,as I sob and shake all over.

"She is my daughter, I am not a good mother. I want to be a mother again" ,I say as I cry. 

"I wish she lived ,she would have been our first daughter" Deji says, caressing my back,comforting me.

"Do you mean you want to get married to me?" I ask ,my face is in his chest ,so my voice is muffled. 

"Yes, but I was going to wait a little bit longer before I told you. I hope I do not change my mind"

"You won't," I say. Deji will not be a mistake,he is a dream man ,he is tall like Ade. He is responsible, handsome, caring, nice, gentle and has a good job.

"You won't change your mind " I say once more. Deji is God's compensation for my mistakes and my daughter's death.  

  The next day ,Deji drives me to the hospital, her corpse is transferred into the hospital ambulance. We drove to a burial house,behind the ambulance, with mother in the car too. She doesn't really say anything today. There is nothing to say, it is all clear. I realized while I thought during the night ,that it was not my fault ,it was fate's fault, it was not my mistake, it was fate. It was not me, it was fate and Ade. Vanessa, the course mate and friend I lived with ,arrives too,we do the necessary.            By evening, Deji drives us home ,with my daughter's ashes in a beautiful ceramic blue small vase with a lid, in my hand. We are silent, everyone. I know what Mama is thinking, it was Ronke's fault; Vanessa, I feel so bad for Ronke, Deji, I love Ronke. I will stand by her through this time of grief and marry her. I know she feels so bad, Me, I miss my daughter, she was a mistake, but I miss her and I love her. And I am free...