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I’m twenty one and still embarrassed.
Despite the limited availability of food at Big Mama’s house, my bosom, hips and buttocks wouldn’t give up on growing. The only advantage was my height, my teenage years had been good to me, I’d sprouted to a lengthy 5ft 8inches, perfectly balancing my curves, I usually daydreamed that I am a descendant of Amazons.
I had arrived Big Mama’s orphanage to discover that I was the oldest at fourteen. The stout woman, who might have been mistaken for my mother because of her physique, wasn’t happy to be getting another mouth to feed. The only reason I even got past the door was the mention of Emman.
She’d then asked, grudgingly, how he was, and I lied. It was the only way and I was being kind, actually, telling her about the blotched break in might have caused her a heart attack. Plus, I didn’t think she’d readily allow a thief into a home of impressionable children.
I had immediately begun speaking of all the glowing compliments Emman had ever given her. And had, also promised to carry my weight and any other she needed me to; it was an advantage that I could cook too.
It took me few months to realize that Big Mama’s wasn’t an official orphanage; the woman was just one of those rare, charitable souls. After her husband had passed, she’d discovered a baby, discarded in a gutter, close to her house. Without children of her own, she’d taken responsibility for the babe.
Few months later, another one had been brought to her notice and she’d received that second baby too. Not long, the community began calling her Big Mama of Lost Children, the name stuck, and her home became the unofficial community’s orphanage.
The caretaker of a building close to Big Mama’s, had filled me in on all the gossip. He even said, some young mothers brought their children on the pretense of visits, and left without them, saddling Big Mama with their up keep.
That particular tidbit reminded me of Emman’s story; his mother had done a similar thing, obviously.
There were a total of thirteen children at the orphanage, with ages ranging from three to nine. Just to show my appreciation for being allowed in Big Mama’s fold, I plunged into the daily workings of the home without being prompted.
I swept, washed, fetched water, cleaned the really young ones and cooked with whatever resources I was given. It was basically the same thing I had been doing for my uncles, back at Ikot Ekpene. Only here, I was appreciated for my efforts and was already accepting the children as my siblings.
Exactly three months later, I found my first discarded baby, and then I understood why Big Mama could never ignore the helpless beings. This one was a boy, perfectly set in front of Big Mama’s gate, and as the first to wake in the morning, I found it.
I fell in love and not long, Big Mama began teasing me and called Richard, that’s what I’d named him, my own child. I was responsible for his every welfare and would only leave him behind when Big Mama insisted we all attend the community’s schools, both primary, and in my case, secondary.
Then, overwhelming hard times struck, the trickle resources garnered from charitable organizations and the kindness of neighbors, dwindled and consequently, stopped.
I was seventeen, three years at Big Mama’s, and was at the verge of writing my certificate exams. The younger children cried a lot, despite having scrounged up a little for them; it was a terrible period.
A period that desperation had urged me back into scouting for rich homes to break into. A whole field of gold had unearthed from this scouting, Uyo definitely had more wealthy homes than Ikot Ekpene and I was ladled with more raw food than I could carry.
I had lied the first few times I’d stolen, knowing what Big Mama would do to me if she found out. I told her that I worked for one of the teacher’s farm at my school and the raw food was the payment I got.
Obviously, she’d dealt with enough delinquent teenagers, Emman, to be precise, and knew something was fishy when I logged in sizeable amounts of raw food.
I would stop breaking and entering when some good Samaritans would stagger in with resources, once in a while. But I’d immediately continue when those resources depleted.
Having held on to the same lie for a while, Big Mama, without warning, dressed up one morning and declared she was following me to school, to thank the renown teacher that had been blessing me with raw food.
To say the least, I was petrified and only after dropping off the younger children at their school, I broke down and confessed what I’d been doing.
Of course, she was scandalized, and would have asked me to return said raw food if she’d had an alternative. I was warned not to do it again, which I’d glumly agreed with a nod. I didn’t do it again…until now.
~*********~
Men are the same every where, so, Uyo wasn’t different in that vein. Their eyes bulged or narrowed contemplatively at the sight of me, every one of them wanted a piece of my luscious flesh.
The thing is, In Uyo, and I guess, any other town, the easiest way to get money without much work, was to have a collection of sugar daddies. I wasn’t willing to subject myself to the groping hands of men old enough to be my father, and even if I was willing, the location of the orphanage defeated the whole idea.
It was located in a semi-rural area, and the collection of men in this cache, weren’t anywhere near better than myself. They had nothing, what so ever, to offer, so I rejected their advances and concentrated on planning flawless strategies for breaking and entering.
Now I was wiser, I stashed my loot in a broken black pot, away from Big Mama’s eyes, and pretended to bring in daily measures, bought with the paltry money from my pseudo laboring job.
My result had been good, but to what purpose? It’s not as though I was going to attend a higher education, in fact, I had no dreams for the future momentarily, except to take care of the children. But, I was a voracious reader, and didn’t hesitate to steal books that interested me, when I broke into homes.
Today was a D-day for me; I was currently breaking into an obviously wealthy home which I’d been scouting for days. I knew the woman lived alone, and was mostly not home, so I chose to break in during the day.
The house was like something out of a movie, I had always thought that such opulence was only possible in the make believe world. Without having time to mope, I swung my updated school bag, stolen from another home, and matched to the kitchen as though I lived there.
I wasn’t worried, there was no security man and though it crossed my mind that it was weird to leave such a house, unprotected, it wasn’t really an issue; different strokes for different folks.
The kitchen was stocked, as expected. I piled as much as I could carry into the bag. The fridge was a wet dream, my eyes widened on the foreign looking biscuits and I couldn’t help myself, my chubby hands eagerly reached for a pack.
It was my birthday after all, a day that only I knew about. Twenty-one today, I might as well celebrate it in style, I thought and grabbed more packs of biscuit. The quiet serenity of the opulence around me, lolled me into a relaxed sense of security, I ended up settling in front of the giant flat screen television, with the remote.
“Ha,” I sighed in satisfaction. “This is the life,” I say to myself, tearing open one of the many packs of biscuit I had grabbed and tuning the satellite TV to cartoon Network. In no time, I was laughing my ass off, and thinking, it would be really easy to get used to this.
~*********~
I should have left a long time ago, but then, it was my birthday, and I needed a break from being discipline. I heard voices close to the front door before I even realized the owner of the house had returned.
The key jangled in the lock and I only had time to switch off the television before diving behind a sofa. I peeped, and watched the impressive, old lady walk into her home with a sigh of relief and the instant spread of her, probably sinfully costly, perfume.
She waltzed by the parlor, her eyes giving it a cursory glance, the same moment I realized that my bulging knapsack lay in plain view. I held my breath and she moved into the corridor which would lead to the kitchen, then I heard her pause, not caring, I straightened, snatched my bag and hid again, with a pounding heart.
Her peripheral vision must have sighted the bag on the sofa, and it must have taken a while for the picture to sink into her mind and make some kind of meaning. The woman promptly returned to the sitting room, pausing at the edge, I could feel her eyes boring into the sofa, I could imagine her mind wondering what she’d seen.
“Hmm,” she breath, probably deciding that her eyes had been deceiving her, she continued to where she was headed in the first place, which was the kitchen.
The moment I heard her open the fridge, I tiptoed towards the dinning area and hid behind a door, just in case she decided to use the dinning area to get to the parlor…she didn’t.
She returned to the sitting room and I slipped into the kitchen, hoping to, as quietly as possible, get the kitchen door open. I planned to use the generator gate at the back to climb back over the fence, to my collapsible ladder; carelessly placed by the side of the fence facing a bush…I’d strategized well.
Problem is, I’d heard the woman speaking with a definitely male being while she’d been unlocking her door. I hoped, fervently, that who ever that male specie had been, he would be immovable, meaning, stuck in the front long enough for me to escape at the back.
While I held my breath and waited, hoping the woman would turn on the TV, making a lot of noise to cover the opening of the kitchen door, I heard her muttering.
“Where’s the remote?” she asked herself, her voice rising in frustration. And I, in the kitchen, thought the same thing, trying to recall where I’d left the remote, as though it was of any consequence at that moment.
“Jesus, what’s this?” I heard her ask no one in particular.
Seriously, the human mind is gullible at times, I was immediately curious as to what she’d seen, that could have shocked her so much. Then the scream came, the same moment I remembered that I’d not grabbed the emptied packs of biscuit lining the edge of the sofa.
Time to go, I snatched open the kitchen door and fled, but still close enough to hear the male specie asking why his employer had screamed.
“Thief,” she squealed.
I beg to differ, madam, I huffed, while wondering if climbing the cumbersome gate was a fast enough get away. It had been perfect when nobody was at home, and the rattling wouldn’t have been an issue.
But with the possibility of hounds in pursuit, I had to think fast. So, assuming there was only one male specie working for the woman, and that one was currently inside, I guessed the gate would be faster.
Quickly, I rounded the house, peeped and found the front yard empty, I made a run for the gate.
“Stop!” I hear behind me, when I was almost to the gate.
“Not on your life,” I muttered and pressed on, determined to breach that gate and dive into the nearest bush.
“I said, stop!” he shouted and, surprisingly, fired a shot.
I paused as though remotely controlled. My fickle mind instantly reminded me of the sight of Emman, writhing on the ground of a fence, not so far back in time, from a bullet wound.
One would think that as I’d once stabbed my uncle, without caring if he was dead and gagging over his blood, I’d be more daring. But, the bullet wound on Emman had scarred me for life, maybe it was because I’d liked him, but the gist of the matter was that, I was afraid of guns.
My heart thudded furiously and I wondered how this day would turn out. I thought of so many lies to tell and pleas to plead, would there be mercy?
Funny how fickle the mind is, it easily gets stuck on an idea that moments ago hadn’t even existed. My mind wasn’t just considering the antics of Bugs Bunny, the cartoon I’d just watched, I was doing it already.
When the gun wielding male finally got to me, he said, “Turn around.”
I pretended not to hear, in fact, I was pretending sleep, exactly what Bunny had done when caught pilfering Elmer. J. Ford’s shotgun.
“Turn around!” he barked again, but with a slight tone of uncertainty. I still didn’t budge.
“Didn’t you hear him, you thief!” the madam of the house added angrily, she had joined him.
Slowly, I heard him walk round me, then hesitantly poke me with his gun.
It made no difference; I was determined to win an Oscar with my act. It was my one true cinema moment. I stood there with my eyes open, staring vacantly into space, my mouth drooped, almost drooling. When he poked me a second time I elicited a deep, guttural snore, as though deep in slumber.
“God, what’s wrong with her?” the male asked, easily taken with my act. But the woman, she must have seen through my pretense or she was just plain fearless, walked up to me and slapped me.
I had wondered a while back how my pretense was going to play out. I knew I had to ‘wake up’ at some point…the crack across my face was a good enough time. I swayed backwards, dragging in a long breath as though suddenly coming out of water after a long plunge.
My eyes blinked and focused, then I frowned in confusion, staring first at the woman, then at the flummoxed guy.
“Jesus! What am I doing here? What’s going on? Who are you?!” I acted shocked to be there.
“I should be asking you that question?” the woman snapped angrily, not still taken by my act. Her guard still looked confused.
I look at them wildly, “How did I get here?”
“You tell us.”
“Oh, God! I think I sleep walked again,” I wailed, actual tears pouring from my eyes, I mean it, I deserve an award.
“Sleep walking! That’s your great excuse? A beautiful girl like you entering people’s houses to steal; I am totally disgusted!” she raved, and I flinched from her fury.
“There are jobs out there! But you choose to steal and then give me the excuse of sleep walking? You sleep walked into my compound…my very locked compound and stuffed your bag full of my food!” she added with widening eyes as her guard finally got of his funk and checked my bag.
Just then, the gate pushed open and in walked two cops. “Yes, officers, here is the thief. We managed to catch her as she was fleeing,” the woman reported, almost gleefully.
It occurred to me a while too late, that I should have just begged the woman from the onset. Even though a part of me was convinced that she wouldn’t have listened, I should have tried. I should have told her about the hungry children at Big Mama’s home who would go hungry this night, if a miracle didn’t happen. I should have told her that I and her food that I’d stolen were their only miracle.
But…it was a while too late.
The story continues…
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