Trauma?

 It was father's day,  but I had no one to congratulate,  not that he was dead. He was alive but he wasn't worthy of it. I didn't consider him my father.  It was in the evening, a Saturday. I was trudging back from the market , tired and thirsty. I was  carrying a black leather bag on my left hand. The roads were busy and noisy. When I took a bend, everything became quiet. I was already in my neighborhood. It was quiet and slummy with gutters full to the  brim of black smelling sodden water and a lot of plastic bottles and nylons. Then I heard catcalls,

 “ hes hes” I refused to turn back or answer. I kept walking on.  

“hes hes!” I walked on. 

“ hessssss!” then I felt a tap on my right shoulder I turned around,  it was a dark tall boy who didn't look more than the age of seventeen,  I could deal with this I was sixteen.

“ Do you have craze in your head?” I asked rudely, pointing my index finger to my head. The  boy was taken aback. 

“ how dare you touch me with your filthy hands. And who were you calling with hes hes you don't have respect, scoundrel” 

When you use big words they always back away. 

“ you be small girl,  if not for the big bress wey you get,  what sef, I juss dey greet you and you dey speak grammar for me,  Kilode,”

“illiterate” , I said then I hissed and I proceeded to walk away. 

“fuck you” the boy said 

“fuck you too and your mama” I said raising my middle finger high the rest of my fingers  curled up. 

The boy looked at me and snarled then walked away.  I triumphantly walked away dragging my polythene bag along.  

When I got home,  I took off my muddy flip flops on the balcony, I strolled through the living room with fading carpet and torn sofas and couches. The small flat TV was switched on,  NTA was broadcasting a talk show. I strolled into the small stuffy kitchen with walls stained with smoke from the stove , Kelechi was washing plates in the sink and mother was chopping ugu on the counter.  

“ Mama, Welldone”

“Amara welcome what took you so long.  You know how your father is, if he comes back and food is not ready. He will  get angry. Did you buy the egusi and everything I asked you to buy? 

“ yes Mama I did”

“ thank you my daughter”

My mother took the bag from me and brought out the beef, grounded egusi ,  tomatoes and fish. 

“ Mama,  I want to quickly use the toilet”

“ okay dear”

I rushed into the toilet with  white tiles turned slightly brown ,green spirogyra   in between them. I pulled down my jeans trousers, and then my pink woolly underwear. Then I sat on the toilet , depositing faeces into it and thinking about the pathetic life I was living and the kind of father I had. He was always throwing tantrums,  beating my mother and shouting and beating I and Kelechi . He was greatly feared, I don't fear him any longer he disgusts me. 

When I was done I took a bowl of water from the black bucket under the tap in the toilet then rinsed the lines of my buttocks and my asshole.

I walked out of the toilet and there he was sitting on his favorite sofa. The one close to the TV legs spread far wide apart , his stomach round and big.  The noise in the kitchen was growing louder, I was sure my mother was panicking and doing everything in a rush. He stared at me ,eyeball to eyeball. It was hard to tell if he was sober he was always drunk.  

“ welcome Papa”

“ thank you ” he answered with a snort. “Rachel!” he called. 

A pot fell,  “ Rachel!” he screamed. 

My mother ran into the living room sweating. 

“ where is my food”

“ sir,  I am almost done”

That was a lie we had not even done the soup not to talk of the semolina. 

“how many times have I told you to prepare my food before I come back?”

Mother was shaking. 

“ don't you have mouth,  answer”

“ countless times sir”

“Go and bring my  belt for me,” he said to me.  

This was unusual , my father usually took mother into his room to  beat her. I stood rooted to the ground , scared.

“ are you deaf?” my father asked angrily. 

I had no choice,  I went into the cramped room my father and mother shared then took the  belt from the nail on the wall where he hung it. I walked out and gave it to him. Kelechi was already outside,  trembling too, her soapy hands clasped. 

He held the belt tightly and stood up,  “ you don't want to learn, you don't want to hear word ehn”

Mother was already crying,  my heart was aching for her. 

“ Oya bend,” my father said. 

Mother was already accustomed to this, she held the arms of the sofa and bent her back with trepidation,  shaking. 

He stripped her wrapper,  Mother's bare enormous fair bosom with stretch marks was exposed . He raised his hand and struck the belt against it forcefully. He kept strucking and strucking ,welts were forming on mother's buttocks and she was sobbing. 

“ I am sorry”she said amidst sobs.

And then the worst happened , Dad loosened the belt on his trousers he brought it out large, long and black,  I and Kelechi gasped loudly he was really drunk. And then he thrust it into the sobbing mother and he kept thrusting and thrusting. He raped my mother right in front of my very own eyes.  I never forgot how whitish and irritating my father's sperm looked when he ejaculated on the floor , how pained my mother looked and the sound of her moans. 

 Now I am a marketer in a small thriving cosmetics company. I live in a self-contained flat with a nosy landlady next door in her four bedroom flat. Mother still lives with father , she never left,  she stayed and kept praying for him to change and be a better man. He didn't, he kept beating her till I was done with secondary school, till I left for University of Lagos two years later, till I left and went to live on my own.  I asked Mama to come with me but she refused." This man is my better for worse. He is my husband. I will not leave him, I am praying for him” I saw in my mother's eyes that she was telling the truth, determined and that she loved him. I pitied her so much,  I told myself I would never fall in love to such extent, never will I sacrifice my life for a man. The change never came till he was almost old and greying. He became a Christain three years back and now an evangelist in the church according to my mother . He acts meeker these days,  and prays often ,and also reads the Bible. But he is still the same to me, I can never forget what he did that night. When I got the job, my mother was excited, that was two years back, Kelechi just got into University of Lagos, it was a double celebration for Mother. “this is what I and your father have been hoping for” she said. 

I was quick to retort “ leave that man out of this , this is what you have been praying for Mama.”

I hate to call him my father,  I hate to, you will understand , when your father was known as the neighborhood drunk,  you will understand when your father is staggering home in broad daylight in the afternoon.  And your friend who you are walking home with from school says “ isn't that your father?” and you say no out of shame. Or when all teenagers on the street went for the street carnival and when y'all were coming back at night,  you find your father, your father in a gutter, the one near the road to the market the filthiest of all. And you hear jeers and laughing, “ that's Amara’s father” they say. And you run home like you are running away from the truth, crying.  Maybe you won't understand because it probably never happened to you. 

“ Why are you not happy that God has finally answered my prayers. Why?  Believe it or not your father is always praying for you” mother said. 

   I am walking home in the hot sun,  it's four o'clock. My head is throbbing,  and I am thirsty. I trudge into my compound through the rectangular little gate.  I walk past my land lady's flat , I hear the sound of the TV, a Yoruba drama . I walk down to my flat.  Sighing , I obtain my keys from my brown handbag . I plunged the key into it's keyhole on my aluminum door painted cream. I stepped into my room and living room.  It felt stuffy so I raised the plaid green and white curtain above the window and tied it. Then I opened the louvers , the rays of the hot sun cast its light on my room.  The red rug , the yellow painted peeling walls , my single bed with a red bed sheet. I took off my black tight skirt groaning, and then my pink round neck shirt with purple long sleeves  that I tucked in. I went into my kitchen to fix what to eat, some instant noodles I was in no mood to cook for more than five minutes. The concrete floor felt warm against the back of my feet as I switched on the stove , lighting each wool .  Then replacing each part of the stove.Then setting the pot with noodles and water on it. I stood up and straightened up with a sigh. I stepped out of my little kitchen and went into the toilet. It had concrete floors and concrete walls, bare no tiles no paint.  At the far end was a latrine white and ceramic and neat due to my washing every Friday . I stooped over it and urinated. I drew my underwear up and walked outside to tend to my noodles. When it was done I ate the noodles hot directly out of the pot. It was a little bit spicy,  my nose began to run, I sniffed. And then my phone beeped , it was a message from Kelechi asking me to call her. I smiled , Kelechi was always stingy with her airtime, well she was a student without a job, her only sponsor was me, the Marketing manager. 

“ Hello, Aunty Amara” I heard  Kelechi say on the other end, her voice tiny and lively. 

“Kelechi,  how are you”

“ I am fine Sis , how was your day”

I laid flat on the bed and sighed, it was really stressful Kelechi, Adekoya will not kill somebody”

“ mine was stressful,  had five classes today one of them was a test”

“ how was it” , I decided to ask,  I knew she would say fine. 

“ it was fine aunty”

“like always ,I hope you are saying the truth.  If you tell me, it was not fine I will not enter the phone and kill you na”

“Aunty, it was fine” I knew she was rolling her eyes like she always does.

“ Aunty, I need me money , can you send like five thousand,”

It was my turn to roll my eyes,

“ I will see what I can do”

“thank you Aunty, bye”

“ bye dear”

Kelechi was like my only friend and sister,  Kelechi is my cousin , she had been living with us since her parents died when she was 3. So she had evolved into a younger sister,  we were beaten and battered together by Papa , we cried together for papa. We played, gossiped , giggled together. I was five years older than her.  We were so close we told each other everything, but when I moved to university everything changed, I submerged myself into working hard for first class.  I had few friends, my only friends were my roommates and a girl in my department, it was a friendship of benefit . She stuck to me so I could teach her stuff , she was helpful in passing information she heard to me.  When I graduated with a first class and found my job, I had to still work really hard to keep it. I didn't have a social life and I couldn't even keep in touch with my only sister . It was quite sad but I was content with my life. Waking up early and coming back late,  no time for men,girl friends with unnecessary gossip . I was content with my life. I didn't want to tie my life with another man and live in constant fear of him and sacrifice my life for him. Never will I be like my mother. 

I heard my landlady singing in Yoruba in her kitchen , she must be cooking. I heard as she sang in her old scrawny voice . Then I fell asleep,  the empty pot noodles a few inches from my bed, in my camisole and underwear, my skirt and shirt crumpled at my head. 

 When I woke up , it was dark already, so I headed out to Mama Kelvin, the woman who sold food under a shed at night. Most of the bachelors and bachelorettes in the neighborhood patronized her ,even families who were too lazy or tired to cook or could not afford to.  I took some change from my bag ,I didn't know what to eat yet,I will decide at Mama Kelvin's shed. I walked outside and locked my door with its rusted padlock and tossed the key into my pocket. I walked out of the compound, I found my landlady walking in. 

"Ahn ahn Amara where are you going to ,you don get man friend?" She said, smiling revealing her teeth. 

I could see her yellow teeth in the dark night.I hated the way she called my name with that her Yoruba accent. 

"I am just going to buy food at Mama Kelvin's"

"Okay, is it plenty you are buying?"

I forced myself not to roll my eyes, "just enough for me ma"

"Oh..are you going anywhere after?"

I was losing my patience.

"No ma"

"Okay, sleep early oh...you know you are going to work tomorrow or are you no longer working" 

"I am , bye bye ma" 

"Wait…." 

I walked fast away and didn't turn back. 

"Amara!Amara!!" 

By the time I couldn't hear my landlady again ,her calls were replaced by catcalls,from the riff raffs on the street ,acting like they have never seen a busty lady before. At this moment , I wish breasts could be inflated. I would definitely inflate mine, at least it would keep the men away, because I am not pretty. I stride towards the shed , I can see a quite number of people loitering around the shed. A bright  red saloon car ,whizzes past me , it catches my eye and I stare at it until it skids to a stop right in front of Mama Kelvin's shed. Mama Kelvin has all sorts of customers, even the local government chairman patronises her. Some people say she uses juju but I don't really believe it, I don't really care anyway.  I sigh and trudge lazily until I have reached Mama Kelvin's shed. I stop right behind the red saloon car and lean on it.  As I wait for the crowd around Mama Kelvin to dwindle , then I can dive into the crowd and struggle to make my order. A cool breeze blows past my face and the door of the car opens suddenly, I gasps since I'm slightly shocked. The owner is a tall broad dark young man with a high hair cut, he looks like he hasn't had a cut in two years , but then his hair is neat and black, I think I saw it gleam in the dark or something. He stares at me with a blank face ,and I assume he is annoyed or upset I am leaning on his car ,typical of pudgy or pompous rich people in Nigeria.I stop leaning on the car, "I am sorry for leaning on your, on your ,on your car" I stutter.  A smile appears on his face, "Oh. It is okay, I wasn't bothered" , he broadened his smile. And I smile back, a thin ,slight smile. Mr High hair, stands in front of the crowd and calls ,"Mama Kelvin " . 

"Excuse" Mama Kelvin said in a shriek like manner and everybody around her dispersed. 

"My customer, Denis . Long time no see. You go abroad?"

"Yes I just came back ma"

"How are your parents na" 

"They are fine , please give me one plate of jollof rice , make everything five hundred naira"

"OK, my son" Mama Kelvin earnestly picked up her spoon and a takeaway plate  opened up the lid and began to scoop ,hot jollof rice from a big blue color on the table. She picked up large pieces of meat and tossed it into the plate with her spoon that was red with stew. She covered the plate with its lid and then wrapped it in a nylon bag and gave it to him. 

"Sell another one of the same  price for this lady too ", he said ,turned around and looked at me.  I was leaning by the side of the car by now. I wanted to be close to Mama Kelvin so immediately, Mr Denis' high hair leaves me, I run to Mama Kelvin and make my order.  I stared at him nervously not knowing what to say as Mama Kelvin served the food and looked at me mischievously, she must be wondering where I knew her " good customer " from. 

Immediately, Mama Kelvin closed the plate and wrapped it. I stepped forward and collected the plate.  

"Thank you" I said to him and walked away. I would have declined but I needed the food and money ,and maybe he was sent to me by God who knows.  I walked away,eager to eat and sleep ,tomorrow would be another long day of working and also being yelled at. I heard footsteps behind me,and I turned around abruptly, my breasts swung as I turned, I felt it. I should have worn a bra, standing in front of  me is Mr Highhair ,with a smile on his face. 

"What do you want from me" ,I shout ,embarrassed and scared. Then I remember I bought the food in my hands. 

"I am sorry" , I say and look down at my feet in bathroom slippers.

"Sorry, I startled you. I am the one to say sorry to you."

"Yh…." I say not knowing what to say. 

"So, are you going home?" He says and holds his waist with his left hand. I can see his face clearly now ,in this part of  the street there is a street light, he is brown but not too brown and so are his lips but there is a hint of light pink. He has a growing beard and his shoulders are broad. He is tall too, he is basically towering over me. 

"Yes I am going home" I replied. 

"Can I walk you home? It is not far from here right" he says in his soft masculine voice. 

"Sure" I say and turn around , he follows me and walks slowly as I am ,right beside me. 

"So ,can I know your name?"

"Amara" I say.

"My name is Dennis"

"I know"

"Dennis Ralph"

"Amara Odile"

"Dennis Johnson Ralph" 

"Amara Abigail Odile" 

"I am 25" , Ralph says 

"I am 24" I say. 

"You look younger" 

I giggle, " So how old do I look? "

"A busty sixteen year old" 

That was an awkward thing to say, I smile and I walk on. 

"So what do you do ?" He asks. 

"I am a marketer, in a very small budding cosmetic company"

"Wow"

"Yh" 

"I am a marketing manager too ,at Nestlé in the UK"

"Wow" 

"Yh"

I freeze on the spot, my landlady is sitting outside fanning herself. 

" why did you stop?" 

"My landlady, she is really nosy"

"Oh…"

"Thanks for the food and the walk home"

" You are welcome , can I have your number? " he brings out his expensive looking smartphone from his jean  pocket.

"070654321"

"Thank you" he says as he punches the last number on his phone. 

" bye" I say ,he waves and turns around to go pick up his car. 

As I walk towards my house ,my landlady's figure becomes clearer. 

"Ahnahn ,Amara and you said you don't have a man friend.  Who is that handsome looking man" 

"I don't know him ,we just met. He is a friend"  I groan within me,why do I have to answer all her questions. 

"But he is a fine man" 

"Yes ,he is. Goodnight ma" I say and walk in fast before she asks another question. 

In a way ,my landlady is my friend ,we are the only two occupants of this compound. She asks me a lot of personal questions and I answer them involuntarily because I don't want to be rude or upset her. Most friends are like that.  Once , mama landlady asked me if I was on my period, I was coming back from work and she saw me ,she said my face looked like someone who was menstruating. And ever since then she has kept track of my menstrual cycle ,she knocks on my door every first day of every month that it begins to give me paracetamol , so I can cope with the pains. How creepy is that? And she has never miscalculated even for one day. Even when I don't remember she does.  I retrieved my key from my pocket and opened my rusty padlock and my door , then I slump on my bed. I can't blame her, she is lonely. Her so-called children are having the time of their lives studying abroad , only Mide visits occasionally with her two children and sometimes her husband. 

 That night, Dennis called me, right before I slept but I didn't pick up. I just gave him my number so I wouldn't seem ungrateful. I know what he wants. I don't need a man in my life , I don't want to be maltreated by a man ,I don't want to be battered by a man. 

   Two weeks later, it is Saturday, now I am walking in the hot sun ,inside this rowdy market. I am looking for fresh tomatoes to buy. I already bought four cups of rice to last me for two weeks and five round small potatoes. I walk past a stall, two old women are selling tomatoes looking old as they are , arranged on filthy wooden tables. They call out to me ,but I don't stop. I need young fresh attractive, tomatoes. I walk farther into the market. I stop at a stall ,because my guts tell me to ,even though ,tomatoes are not displayed. I look at the cow meat displayed on the table ,flies perching all around them, like they want to buy the meat too. I wished silently that I could buy some pieces of them. But then I am managing my funds. I will buy dry bony smoked small fishes from Faruq in my neighborhood.

"Wetin u wan  buy" the woman says to me ,tying her black dirty scarf. She seems to be in a sore mood or something. 

"Do you sell tomatoes?" I ask. 

"Yes and any stew ingredient, I get rodo too sef"  the woman finally succeeds in tying her scarf. She dives under the table and dips her hand into a large rubber bowl filled with murky sordid brown water. Then she brings out two ,perfectly round fresh red young attractive tomatoes. 

"How much u wan buy"

"Hundred and fifty naira own." 

She went under the table and counted seventeen perfect tomatoes into a black nylon bag. I hand her a hundred naira note and  a fifty naira note and I receive my good. Then I hear a horn , I turn around ,a red familiar saloon car is right beside me on the narrow market road. Mr high hair Dennis winds down the car window. 

"Madam, your husband get fine car o" the woman says ,suddenly out of her sore mood.  My subconscious shakes her head, what if he is my driver. 

I turn around and wave ,Denis waves too. 

Dennis beckons to me to  come in , I don't want to make a scene ,so I walk to the car reluctantly dragging my shopping nylon bag along. I open the door and hop in. 

"Hi" I say politely and give a fake peppy smile. Sore mood market woman and albino market woman at the right side are staring right into the car. 

"Can you drive out of this place please?" I ask,still smiling.

"Why?"

"Please!"

"Okay,okay" he starts the engine and drives out through the narrow road.

"Why haven't you been picking my calls?" Dennis asks, swerving slowly to the right. We  are in a new section of the market, jewelries are blinking from stores ,women are swarming all around.

"Oh….you called" I try to feign pretense but I don't think I was successful. 

"I have been calling every day for the past two weeks," he says calmly even though he is supposed to say it angrily. 

I don't know what to say so I tell him I am sorry. 

Dennis stops the car and then kills the engine. He picks up his phone from the dashboard. He starts to tap on his phone, I look outside the window looking ,as people trudge in and out of the market. 

My phone begins to ring in my small shoulder bag. My ringtone  sounds embarrassing ,it is one of those shrill loud bizzare tunes that comes with your Itel  smartphone. I haven't had time to change it. I pick up my phone, it is Dennis's number. It is not saved but I know it is his number. I looked up at him ,he had a smug smile on his face. 

"Pick up the call" he says,half command, half urging. 

I pick up the call. 

"Hello" Dennis says into the phone. 

"Hello" it fells stupid, but I reply anyway.

"How are you today?"

"Fine,tired, awkward, embarrassed"

"Why?"

"Because, I have been searching for fresh tomatoes all day. And I feel awkward because I'm on the phone with somebody right beside me. Also I feel embarrassed because I got busted for ignoring the call of someone who helped me. I'm sorry"

"It is okay… Well…"

Horns start blasting from behind us,a man appears at the window and knocks on the window glass. 

"Oga, don't you know  that other people are  passing this road too. Abeg   carry you car and go" 

"I am sorry," Dennis says.

The man walks away ,and Dennis starts the engine and continues driving. We drive to an ice cream shop where you can just drive in and you buy your ice cream in your car. The blue haired ice cream seller hands him two leather bags with two bowls of vanilla and strawberry ice cream. I know one of them is for me, but I don't ask. Dennis hands him four thousand naira notes and asks him to keep the change. Dennis drives me home ,but I don't complain, at least he has saved me five hundred naira. I thank him and get down.

"Thanks for the ride,I am sorry for not picking your calls" ,but then he gets down too and closes the door. 

"Where are you going?" I am confused. 

"I am going in," he says with a smile. 

"Okay," I say, surprising myself. 

I walk in and Dennis follows me. As we walk past Mama landlady's house ,I can see her staring from the window, smiling and winking. I roll my eyes and smile. Dennis is oblivious to  this ,he is staring and observing the tall bitter leaf plant next to the wall on the way to my apartment. We get to my small "boys quarter" apartment and open up my rusty padlock, I feel so embarrassed. But I look back and smile anyway ,inviting him. We walk in, "welcome to my humble home", I say. I should buy chairs, there are no chairs in my one room that also serves as my living room. I sat on my rumpled bed ,I should have had it laid this morning. Dennis sits too. He hands me an ice cream bowl with a plastic spoon. 

"Oh,thanks' ' I say and drop it right beside me on the bed, not sure if I could dig into it now. Dennis opens his up and scoops a full spoonful into his mouth. I pick up mine and dig into it. I love ice cream but I don't take one often. 

"So tell me more about you" Dennis says  with his mouth full of ice cream which should be unlike him ,because he looks so handsome. 

"Oh.." I say swallowing ice cream,I don't know if it was the ice cream or his handsome face but magically half of my wall melted down instantly. Ice Cream is not fire, but I don't know how it happened.  

I open my mouth and tell him my name, how my work is like , how Mrs Adekoya always yells at me, about Kelechi,about my non-existent sexual life and relationship life. I tell him about little bits about my childhood, but before I know it I take more icecream and I spill out everything, Papa beating mama,Papa raping mama,Papa kicking mama outside unto the brown earth. How Kelechi and I were struck with his belt until we bled, how he would tell us to undress ,how we feared him so much. And before I knew  it ,I was crying ,warm salty tears. Dennis hugs me and I sight mama landlady at my window crying too. 

I withdraw and sniff back mucus into my slightly pointed nose.

"So all those things ,gave you something like a trauma?"

"I don't know " ,I shrug, "what is a trauma?" 

   A trauma is any serious injury to the body, often resulting from violence or an accident. It is also an emotional wound leading to psychological injury or any event that causes great distress. 

    One month later, it is mama's fiftieth birthday, Dennis and I decided to throw a small party for her. It seems like a fairytale. It feels like I have known Dennis all my life ,like he was made for me,and he was the one I was waiting all my lonely twenty four years  to tell him about my life and cry on his shoulders , like I rejected all twenty one men who ever asked me out to be with him. Mama has a new house now that Dennis bought for her, of course papa moves in with her,even though I didn't want him to. I wanted him to stay at his wretched house that he boasted so much about,saying he built it  with his money and threatened to send mama out of. But Dennis and Mama persuaded me. They have also been persuading me to become close to him. He rapports well with Dennis. But anytime I am around or come in ,they stop talking. 

 I walk in ,holding Dennis hands, he is face timing with his pretty young looking mother. I already talked to her in the car. 

"Mum, can we talk later?" Dennis says. 

"Later? It is already late here and I feel sleepy, goodnight"  , Mrs Ralph speaks from the phone. 

As we walk in ,mama greets us with a warm embrace. The make-up artist I hired did a wonderful job ,she doesn't look like Mama,she looks like, tge  Rachel Papa might have loved. Kelechi walks up to us ,in a tight fitting beady dress,beside her is a dark ,tall slim young man ,he looks about the same age as Kelechi. 

 "Hi Aunty Ama, Hi uncle Dennis" ,she says fondly. And hugs me and Dennis too,"this is Nile" 

"Nile?" I say ,what kind of name is that? But I don't say anything. 

"Hi Nile" Dennis says and I smile broadly at him. Papa walks in ,I look at him and then look away. Everybody walks away to the dinning ,to fuss over gifts. 

"Stay here" Dennis whispers in my ear ,he lets  go of my hand and walks away. I grit my teeth, this was a planned work ,behind my back. Papa opens the door and walks out.  He turns around and looks at me, I sigh and follow him outside, lifting my long body fitted purple gown. He sits on the chair on a plastic chair, I sit beside him on the other plastic chair. 

"My daughter" 

I fight the urge to say ,I'm not his daughter. 

"I am sorry ,I know you hate me for everything, I did to you and Kelechi and most especially your mother. I was stupid then, I can't even explain. But a devil was living in me. But now I have been delivered by Pastor Thomas and I am free from the devil and I have given my life to Christ. Your mother forgave me and I spoke to Kelechi.  I know I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I want you to forgive me and let go of every grievance you might have against me. So that it will not lead you to hell. I am going to a village in the far east, I have been posted there to evangelize to the rural village there. And I am not coming back. I plan to stay there till I die , I want to die doing the work of God. I have told your mother to stay back ,so she can experience your wedding when you and Dennis get married" , a smile appears on his face. 

"Please my daughter forgive me, " he says and kneels slowly. I want to stop him ,but I can't speak. I feel like there is a stone in my throat. I want to cry but I can't. My eyes just remain moist. I stare into his eyes for a long time. And I tell him to stand up ,I hold his hand as he does. Then I hug him. I forgive him ,I will try to forgive him because I can see sincerity in his eyes. His eyes are genuine.  I forgive him because fresh young tomatoes can come out of murky sordid brown water too. A tyrant, abusive ,drunk, uncaring father can become a loving father who loves his daughter ,even though he never did ,and can love God's work too.