Hajia

My daughter got home by ten thirty in the night. The implication of this act is very heavy; you will know this if you were a Nigerian parent.  
 I was sitting in my favorite arm chair, it faced the TV and swallowed my entire frame; it was the reason I loved it because it felt like I was being hugged. 
 A sports channel was on but I could hear nothing. My phone rested on my lap, the screen brightly showing a ringing phone icon. It eventually buzzed to a stop before adding to the twenty one calls I’d already made to my nineteen year old child. 
Strangely, whenever I was anxious or angry, I sat still, it was like all the emotions were too much they had me wound up tight. So I sat in my chair, seething in this anger at the audacity she had not to pick any of my calls and fright that something terrible had happened to her. 
 Just the thought of that hastened my heart beat and I willed myself to calm down. Why didn’t she ever listen to anything I said? 
 The TV droned on, mixing and twirling with my thoughts in blurry colors of grey and yellow.
  Soon, I began to redial her phone number; it was on its third ring when the door knob turned, the door heaved forward and she stepped in. Relief washed over me briefly at the sight of her but it was quickly replaced with the previous anger I’d been stewing in. 
 The other version of me stared at me, her phone in one hand, unapologetic. Her large, dark eyes held mine defiantly for some seconds before they wavered down in defeat.  
 ‘Good evening, Mummy.’
 What to do. I wanted to fling my slippers at her face, wanted to pull those long, green braids on her head then finish it with a ringing slap. 
 I let her squirm in my silence to make her aware of the weight of trouble she was in. 
 ‘What is wrong with you?’ I replied. 
 Silence. 
 ‘Why didn’t you pick any of my calls?’
 ‘I was already close, I knew you would ask where I was.’
 I studied her. Her head was somewhat bent but she occasionally snuck glances at me. It was then I noticed she was holding a yellow gift bag. 
 ‘What did I tell you about coming home late?’
 She didn’t say anything. 
 ‘You are not going anywhere again for a month, since your head doesn’t work anymore. You know about the kidnappings in town, you know it’s not safe for a girl to be outside by this time but you will stay, until ten.’
 She threw me a look, the same look I’ve thrown at people who get on my nerves. 
 This was me fighting against myself. I knew she was waiting me out to finish talking so she could enter into her room and continue with her clandestine living. My own mother used to complain about how I locked myself inside my room, doing nothing but staring at my phone’s screen. 
 ‘Who were you with?’
 It was fast, the look that crossed over her face and I knew it. It was one of embarrassment, the one that creeps up your face when you’ve been caught but she quickly shook it off and replaced it with a blank expression. 
 ‘Answer me.’ I calmly told her. 
 ‘My friend.’
 Oh, I knew it was a male friend. The sinking feeling I’d forced myself to forget came crashing down on me in its full weight, so suddenly I gasped. 
Of course it was a man, who else got her the gift bag dangling from her fingers? 
 ‘You follow men now?’ I hated how it came out as a shaky whisper filled with dread. 
 ‘Mummy! What’s this now?  You were the one who said you’d trust me and treat me like an adult, see how you’re overreacting now.’ She took two steps forward, her arms spread out and she was annoyed. 
 ‘You always treat me as if I’m still a child. My friends’ parents allow their children go out in peace, but you always overreact to everything!’
 Eh, her tone was rising; a dangerous gamble she was playing, one she shouldn’t try with me and she knew it. 
 ‘I’m overreacting!’ I was up on my feet, no longer calm. ‘Are you talking  to me like that?’ 
 I was walking to her now, my hands balled into small fists and she backed up until she was against the wall. There was fear in her eyes but she was trying to look tough. 
 Even I knew I looked like a killer whenever I was mad. 
 ‘Do your friends parents pay your school fees and feed you? Eh? Are they the ones who take care of you?  If you turn up missing, is it your friends' parents who will look for you?’
 My words were left hanging in the tense atmosphere, daring her to say something, to counter my words, since it was what she was good at now. 
 She was a few inches taller than I was and her eyes were trained on my every move, in case my hands were to suddenly fly out to smack her. 
 I hated being angry at my only child, it was emotionally draining. I didn’t see myself as an overbearing parent, heck, I let her express herself as long as it didn’t cross the borderline.
 It wasn’t always like this, she was my friend most of the time and everyday made me see how alike we were, from our ideas to our fashion sense. Even her voice was mine. 
 We stood like that, facing each other. My baby girl with red lipstick and a tiny silver nose ring and me, her mother, with a similar nose ring and a hidden tattoo. 
 This was me nineteen years ago. 
Quietly, silent tears slipped down my cheeks and it startled her. She looked helplessly at me, I know she was scared she had done something incredibly terrible; be with a guy. 
 Turning away from her, I swiped at my eyes. 
 ‘Sit down.’
 My arm chair welcomed me back and I settled in. 
 Hajia uncomfortably perched on one of the sofas, she looked like she was about to be interviewed. She dropped the tiny gift back beside her and looked at me.  
 ‘I didn’t…’
 ‘One day, I went out with your father,’ I interrupted, ‘I was just like you… nineteen, fresh out of secondary school. 
  Well, he had been promoted at the company that time and so he bought gifts for me everyday.’
 My eyes settled on the yellow gift bag and she rolled her eyes. I let it slide, I decided that this wasn’t a fight, that was over. I needed to tell her so she could understand me. 
 My mind vividly took me back. ‘But I was wary, I didn’t know much about him and he was thirty years old.  My mother warned me off him, she said I was too small for him and older men only wanted one thing from small girls like me.’
 ‘She was right, you know,’ I sighed out, thinking about Mama's harsh words: ‘That man can give birth to you with his second wife and you are following him!  Are you a prostitute?  Are we so poor now?’
‘See, your grandmother married my dad when she was seventeen and he was forty.  He gave her so much hell I’d never seen her happy my whole life. She would look at me or your Uncle Adam and hiss; we all looked like Baba it reminded her of him and all the things he did to her. ’
 I’d begun to deviate. This wasn’t going to be about Mama and her bitterness. 
 ‘Anyways, one day, your father was able to convince me to go out with him on a date.’
 I looked at Hajia and she glared back at me. 
 ‘You know your father, how wonderful he can be, how he spoils you like a rat.’
 The glare seemed to intensify and I was mildly amused. 
 ‘Well that was how he was to me, he was so sweet. Always getting me things, talking to me like I was a fully mature woman, like I was the only thing he could think of. He was my escape from the low self esteem Mama hammered into my subconscious.
 I was reluctant at first, but then I became thrilled because none of my friends had older boyfriends with cars. I was like the quiet girl who was a secret player and it earned me unspoken respect.’
 Hajia was listening, her right thumb rubbing against her left palm; it was a habit she developed since she was a kid. 
 ‘I didn’t know that the ‘date’ was going to be at his house. I was confused when we pulled up at a house but he said he wanted to get his ATM card, plus he wanted me to see where he stayed since he knew where my house was.’
 It seemed reasonable so I followed him into his house. 
 I smiled at Hajia. ‘It was this house.’
 ‘We entered and he went to get the card while I looked around. There were a lot of strange paintings on the wall then, really graphic paintings and an aquarium. 
 ‘We had an aquarium?’
 ‘Yes we did, but your father got bored of it and gave them out.’
 She huffed. 
  ‘When I managed to pull myself away from the tiny fish swimming about in the aquarium, your father was there watching me.’
 And he was smiling strangely. 
 ‘Come,’ he told me and I went. 
  Gently, he pulled me into a hug and I began to wonder why he was hugging me when his hands began to slip from my waist, downward.’
 ‘Mummy, is this…’
 ‘l pushed him away, surprised at what he was trying to do. He knew I wasn’t that type of girl, we had talked about it severally.’
 ‘Bam.. what are you doing?’ I asked him, bewildered. He only kept smiling that strange smile. 
 ‘Relax.’
  ‘He came towards me again but I took a step back. My heart was pounding very fast, Hajia, I had never been so scared of him like that.’ 
 Hajia looked like she was going to cry from discomfort. Bam was hardly ever home now, but whenever he was, he was the father of the year. Hajia never saw any fault in him, he was perfect. 
 I paused because I didn’t want to tell her what happened next. Would she even believe that I was saying the truth? No child ever saw their beloved parent as a rapist. 
 Parents were supposed to be perfect. 
 I didn’t  want to tell her that he caught up with me. It became a struggle and then he actually beat me when I kept resisting. I was back to that night, it was clear in my mind now. I hated myself when he was done, hated how my body reacted to him, the way he laughed and said he knew I wanted it. 
 My anger had stunned me into silence that I didn’t even scream. 
‘Hajia, I was raped that day.’ I concluded. 
 ‘I don’t want you out with any man in the night. When I tell you to do things, do them because I’m wiser than you are.  Don’t always…’
 ‘Mummy, am I the result of rape?’ She sounded so small. She was no longer the fierce ball that bounced in through the door a few minutes ago, she was my little Hajia. 
 I shook my head firmly. ‘No.’
 She still looked at me questioningly. Hadn’t I said enough?
 ‘What is it?’
  She didn’t say anything. It was like she wanted to ask me something or tell me something but didn’t know how to do it. 
 My emotions were in disarray, troubled by my recollections.  Finally, I concluded that I was done talking to my kid; I would follow her everywhere she was going if I had to. 
 The TV started playing a theme song, momentarily snapping me out of my thoughts. 
 The remote sat beside my chair on a stool so I grabbed it and flipped the channels, looking for anything to grab my attention. I finally settled on a game show and dropped the remote back. 
 Hajia was still there, looking at me. Normally, she would be eager to leave to her room but this time, she had a sad expression on her face, it looked like sadness or pity and she kept looking at me. 
 She knew there was more to the story I just sprung on her and it was my turn to squirm and try to ignore her. 
 But I couldn’t; I couldn’t even concentrate on whatever was going on in the TV show. 
 I sighed out and resigned myself to it. The whole truth it is. 
 ‘I got pregnant. But he took me to his doctor friend who removed the baby.’ I added. 
 Hajia looked away in disbelief and new tears sprang up in my eyes. 
 ‘Every day, I think about that baby. Was it a boy or a girl? He… or she would have been twenty one by now.
  I felt so rotten, so broken and defiled. I wasn’t only dirty, I was a murderer too.  Who would want someone like me, hmm? My life was destroyed from a single night; it only took one night. 
I started hearing things, seeing things. Some days, I’d see things crawling from inside my skin, I’d feel them moving.’
 I sniffed, feeling the tears drop. My head was bent now, I’d never cried in front of Hajia before, I never wanted her to see me as weak or anything like that. 
 ‘My… my mother knew something had happened and she pried it out of me. 
 I thought she would understand, I thought she could see that I was suffering. But no, your grandmother… she said I had to marry him since he damaged me, I… ‘
 I was shaking, my voice trembled, I needed a moment to compose myself. 
 ‘… I was used cargo. She said nobody would marry me because I wasn’t a virgin. Then your grandmother broke down in tears, wailing about how the women in church would speak ill of her if they ever found out. She said our family was cursed, everyone had a problem.’
I was half-talking and gasping and crying all at once. 
 All the while I spoke, I couldn’t look at my daughter. But I had to let her know that I wasn’t overreacting and that I loved her so much I was scared whenever she wasn’t with me. 
 ‘I didn’t know, Mummy,’ she said quietly. 
 When I looked up at her, she wasn’t looking at me, her eyes were on her hands her thumb rapidly rubbing against her palm. 
 ‘The person I went out with, he… he is my friend. We met online and today was the first time we saw each other.’
 She plucked the yellow gift card from beside her. ‘He bought this for me.’
 I laughed a little, amidst the tears and my runny nose. 
 ‘Oh, so this is how to get you to tell me everything you’ve been up to eh?’ I teased. 
 She smiled a little but it was shaky. I knew she felt bad. It was the same way I always felt bad for my mother. I knew that all she did was just a reaction, a transfer of frustration. But I wasn’t going to be my mother. 
 ‘Stop looking sad, where’s the girl that was shouting at me some minutes ago?’
 ‘Mummmmy,’ she groaned. 
She stood and came to hug me. I held her so close like my existence depended on it. I dragged in her scent the feel of her in my arms and shut my eyes, begging the waterworks not to begin again. 
 I wanted us to remain that way forever. 
 ‘I'm sure your father loves you, hmm?’ I whispered, ‘I have learned to forgive him for my sake and for you.’
 I felt her nod her head. 
 ‘I love you.’