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FIVE YEARS LATER…SOMEWHERE IN BAYELSA
Going postal and breaking up with Jude in a jealous rage had really been the worst decision she’d taken recently. She should’ve expected it, that one day, no matter how poetic and loving he’d been, enough to lure her out of her marital home, it would all come to an end.
Jude was heir to some billions and had met her at one of her society friend’s wedding. She’d acted coy with him and he’d seemed so taken with her, when she’d told him that she was a Mrs, he’d looked so hurt and heart broken.
Susan had felt pity for him, and mostly for herself, because, at that moment, she’d missed being single. The idea to be the first to get married among her clique of friends seemed like a dumb decision now; it was mostly Daniel’s fault.
He’d been dull, but his greatest sin was not being rich and not taking her idea to enrich himself; and not allowing her to live rich with her mother’s money, if she so pleased. He’d reminded her continuously that her welfare was no more her mother’s responsibility but his and that he’d do it according to his resources.
The problem is, Daniel Akpan’s resources were paltry compared to the kind of life she was used to living. She regretted not listening to her mother. Her dear mother had warned her about the incompatibilities of their personalities.
She’d understood Daniel’s personality from the conversations she’d had with him during the pre-wedding arrangements and had instantly known. But Susan had been star struck and was pompously confident in her power to persuade Daniel into doing whatever she wanted him to.
Susan realized too late that she’d been sorely mistaken; Daniel wasn’t a push over as she’d thought.
So, Jude had asked to be friends, and she’d agreed, it was supposed to be a little bit of excitement in her, otherwise dull life. And the man, few years younger than her, had just come visiting to the state. He told her that he was on tour and treated her extravagantly.
Three more harmless dates later and Jude revealed that his mother had granted him over five million naira, to use and tour the country, ergo, his visit to Akwa Ibom. As the only child and heir, his mother was doing this, so that he’d concentrate on his work when he took over the company.
He planned to move from state to state, just tasting all cultures before returning to become the new CEO of his mother’s plastic and textile companies.
Jude convinced her that he was smitten and would hate to leave her. He’d invited her to come on tour with him.
“But, I’m married,” she’d whispered coyly, tapping Jude lightly on the arm.
“Money can change a lot of things. I’m crazy about you Susan, and the thought of…you being in the same house with that man, makes me madly violent,” he said passionately.
She’d been taken; even before he kissed her as though he was desperate, as though his next breath depended on touching her. Susan began denying Daniel bedroom rights, she quarreled about any and everything. It was her subtle message to him to change his ways, to agree to what her mother had to offer…but the stupid, obstinate buffoon, refused.
His refusal had given her reason to leave. She could have dropped off Stacey at her mother’s, but just to spite Daniel, she’d taken their child along. Jude hadn’t cared, he’d been ecstatic that she’d agreed to follow him at all.
He’d treated them like royalty, each state had them lodged in the best hotel suites. After several months, Stacey had begun crying for her father and the need to return to school. Leave fate to give her a child that took after her father intellectually.
What fun loving seven year old would insist on going back to school, in the midst of interesting travels? But the child was right, at least Jude thought so, and had swiftly boarded them at one of his houses at Lagos.
Stacey got her wish and was registered in a school; she promptly stopped crying about her dad. They lived like a family for years, none of the adults brooking the idea of marriage. Susan was careful not to get pregnant, even though Jude was all about it, one child was enough and she wanted to enjoy this freedom to the fullest.
There hadn’t been any introductions to Jude’s mother. He made excuses which were valid; his mother had been out of the country, since handing over the mantle of leadership to him.
Each year, during Christmas holidays, Jude took them to choice holiday locations around the country. He’d never taken Susan to any of his out of the country travels, but she’d been keeping her fingers crossed, she was sure he’d ask her soon enough.
On the recent Christmas holiday, Susan had returned prematurely from a shopping spree to find Jude with a lady, far younger and more beautiful than herself. He’d been scheduled to take Stacey sight seeing at the water side while she shopped, but…
“What the…what’s…Jude!”
Their position was compromising enough, with them being naked and sweaty. No excuse came. Jude begged, but in her jealous rage, she refused to listen.
“You left my daughter with a stranger, in a strange town, to do this!” she’d screamed, pointing to the calmly dressing lady.
“Baby, Stacey is with my driver, he’s not a stranger,” Jude said, in a contrite tone.
In a huff, she’d parked her bags and Stacey’s, stomping angrily around the luxurious suite while Jude followed, begging all the while.
She’d left, lodged in another hotel, cheaper than Jude’s own. He came everyday for days to beg, and then, one day, the visits ended.
Susan had waited for his call and finally, after realizing that his indiscretion was nothing compared to the luxurious life, being with him accorded her, she’d gone to the hotel. And got the shock of her life, Jude had left.
Her calls were rejected and after several days, she realized that she’d been dumped unceremoniously. The money she had on her were monetary gifts Jude had given her from time to time, it had felt like a lot, but after months of continuing the extravagant living she’d been used to with Jude, to her surprise, her account was empty.
“DEAR, DARLING DAUGHTER DECIDES to call today,” Mrs. Grant’s sarcasm dripped clearly through the phone’s receiver to Susan’s ears.
She eyed the ceiling she was looking at, wryly. “Your mean voice is actually scary,” Susan said, not meaning any of her words. She had to butter her mother up, so she’d send her some money, a request that hadn’t been answered, going on a week.
“You haven’t called in a decade,” her mother’s polished words reached her and she rolled her eyes at the ceiling in exasperation.
“It’s been only a couple of days,” Susan groaned.
“Try almost a week. How’s my grandchild?”
“At your tone, one would thing it’s been forever since I called,” she grumbled.
“It does feel like forever, Susan. With you being far away and I not knowing where you are, what you’re doing…this is the height of inappropriate behavior,” her mother blustered, it seemed she’d put a lot of thought into her scolding.
“I’m an adult mom, and I made my decision, with reasons…”
“Reasons you say? Let me give you one, Stacey.”
“Mom…,” Susan groaned wearily, her eyes were now closed but still facing the ceiling.
“Hear me out. I believe that the hotel hopping you put that little girl through, in the name of holidays, are detrimental to her upbringing.”
“Mummy, please…,”
“It is wrong, Susan. And this is one of the reasons on my pilling list of why I’ve refused to send you anymore money. It’s ridiculous and…”
“So, you…,” Susan started, sitting up on the hotel bed, but her mother interrupted her as though she hadn’t spoken.
“…points at plain irresponsibility for someone your age.”
“So, you got my text message,” Susan accused.
“Yes, and I’m proud to say that I ignored it.”
“Why?” she cried, her sulking tone, blatant.
“Stacey. And I need you to send her home, Susan,” Mrs. Grant postulated in a stern voice, one she wondered, if she’d used on a young Susan, would have made her a responsible adult.
“Wha…?”
“I know how you stick to your decisions when you make them, no matter how unreasonable. You can continue staying where ever you are, I’ll send you loads of money, just put the girl on a flight and I’ll be at the airport to pick her…”
“But why, mom?” Susan sounded and looked incredulous, her mother never acted like this, she generally gave her what ever she asked for.
“In case you haven’t noticed, your child is frightfully intelligent. I’m persuaded to believe she has genius capabilities.”
Susan pulled the phone from her ears and rolled her eyes again. Despite her derisive attitude, she knew her mother was right, and she knew those genes weren’t from her side of the family. Mother probably wanted a chance to be able to boast to her society friends that her grandchild was a genius, but Susan wasn’t going to say that, she still needed money from her.
“Yes, I agree with you, even Jude noticed t…”
“I really don’t care to hear that name,” the old lady snapped. “Send the child home…”
“But I don’t have any money,” Susan riveted to whining.
“I’ll send the flight tickets and that’s if you bother to send me your current location…”
“But mother, we have things to buy!”
“You can decide to follow Stacey…or not. But the sooner you make this decision, the sooner your account dings,” it sounded final.
“This is not fair…”
Susan was smoothly interrupted by her mother and the swift change of topic left her reeling in shock.
“Did you hear what happened to Daniel?”
“It’s been over five years, I really don’t care…”
“Susan Etido Grant!” her mother called sternly.
Susan actually groaned in frustration. “Mum, I really don’t care, but I’m sure you’re going to shove it down my throat anyway,” she said, sounding pissed and not caring. But she needed money though, so she listened.
~*********~
FEMALE PENITENTIARY…
As far as prison life goes, mine was…sort of, okay, with a shrug. I mean, I did break into that house and was caught with stolen merchandize, so, I deserved my punishment…at least some of it. I was never convicted, I was never taken to court, and I don’t deserve the five years I’d stayed in this Godforsaken place.
But I guess it was for a reason, chance did happen, that an NGO introduced diploma worthy courses for the in mates. I jumped at it; it was the only thing that made my stay bearable.
On one of those days in class, I realized something, a realization that left me grinning. Against all odds, I, Uwana Dennis Ukpong, preferably called Wana, had completed secondary school and was now getting a diploma. Forget the environment, though not basic university vicinity, but…a diploma was a diploma.
I excelled in all my courses, I had to, it was the only thing I could think of. My assignments were completed before we had to be herded back into the cells; my lecturers were all impressed and most wondered how I’d gotten into prison in the first place.
One in particular, Mrs. Deborah John, took intense interest in my well being. She was the designated counselor for the in mates and also taught three of the nine courses necessary for the diploma.
I want to believe that her interest stemmed from the fact she was just a few years older than me, she was also plumpy, like me, and , not to toot my own horn, I was the smartest in that class.
Mrs. Debbie John as she was fondly called, was fair in complexion, not as tall as my lengthy self, so she ended up looking round and homey. She talked a mile a minute, her eyes shun with sincerity when she taught the in mates or was counseling. I got the impression that she was generally a good person.
That impression was confirmed when I was informed that she had given my name to the parole board, responsible for compiling prisoners to be pardoned by the governor.
It almost brought tears to my eyes, almost, but I held myself back and refused to believe. What if it didn’t work out? I wasn’t ready to deal with disappointment coupled with unknown years of incarceration, since I’d never made it to court, and there was no indication that I ever will.
But trust the mind; especially mine.
It grasped hold of the formally unknown notion and refused to let go, despite my mental efforts to repugn them.
As for the hope of getting a pardon, I would have preferred an Expungement. A total cleansing of my criminal records, obliterating my crime or any time spent in prison. Apparently, I’m suffering from too much hope, ‘a beggar with choice’ syndrome.
Shaking my head and sighing, I adjusted my buttocks on the hard, cement floor of my cell. My cell mate gave me one of her keen looks.
“Wetin you dey think? You don dey sigh since like babe were dey contemplate abortion.”
The mental image of what she said made me laugh, so much, the female warden called for silence. I covered my mouth with my palm and continued giggling helplessly, my eyes streaming with tears.
Amongst the six of us sharing a cell, Alero was the funniest and kindest of all; which made it kind of difficult to see her as the convicted murderer she was said to be. When the senior in mates would have turned moi into a cell slave… until someone new came along, Alero had taken me under her wings.
It was the kind of relationship oddly reminiscent of the kind in secondary schools, involving senior students and newly admitted junior ones. Alero had become my cell mother, and since she’d been in here, far longer than the rest…three years longer, nobody went against her wishes.
The gist and rumors about her, flowing the court yard, during compulsory, daily sanitation, was that she murdered her husband in a jealous rage. In mates offered the gist without prompting, they said she’d stabbed her husband continuously before coldly, surrendering herself to the police.
I don’t know how true this stories are, I really don’t care. But I was grateful though, to be in Alero’s good graces, apparently, she was most revered. Her quiet demeanor learnt credence to her deadliness. In mates confessed to being afraid of someone who permanently smiled, even when the wardens were being especially vicious.
To have done what she’d been convicted of, and convicted to spend most of her life in prison and still be kind and laugh? Yes, that was a bit scary, and in mates, basically stayed out of her way, and in connection, out of mine too.
It was a good arrangement, as far as I was concerned. But then, the always smiling Alero did give me a pause of concern, one never knew what she was thinking behind that smile. With time though, that concern faded away when she’d only showered me with kindness…and jokes.
Wiping the tears of mirth, I cleared my throat and heaved a sigh.
“E fit no be the abortion she dey think sef. The babe fit the wonder why she no bin insist on using raincoat,” I joked, and cackled in satisfaction when everybody dissolved in laughter, causing the warden to threaten us from her post.
I was happy to have diverted Alero’s interest in my thoughts. My in mates came up with other funny possibilities of what the imagined babe would have been thinking. This was how we survived in here, shared jokes, life histories and experiences…this was not to say, there weren’t quarrels.
That would have been a miracle. Women were wont to have disagreements and petty jealousies where ever they gathered…even in prison.
But, I couldn’t share the hope of getting pardoned to people that might never be pardoned. I was suddenly feeling ashamed at my worrying, so I silently thanked God for the perceived opportunity and desisted from nitpicking.
Later that night, it occurred to me, like a flash of knowledge, that my eyes had been opened to yet, another aspect of life, which I never would have found out ordinarily. There was life on the streets with homeless kids, life at the struggling orphanage and now, life in prison.
I realized I was learning, but for what? What ultimate test, was I learning all these harsh experiences for? Why couldn’t fate have organized a special textbook with all these experiences imbedded in it?
Someone farted at that moment. It seemed like it was fate scoffing at my silent questions.
But, thinking of it, how big would such a text book be? And how, where, would I have acquired it? It wasn’t as though there was a universal bookshop or library advertising for such an imaginary book. Plus, fate wasn’t even a tangible concept or phenomenon, to be seen and conversed with.
Of course, I had to experience all this, I realized with a small, sad smile. I don’t know what the future holds for me, but, no text book would have granted me the opportunity of meeting all the interesting people I’ve met along the way. No textbook would have fed the kids at Big Mama’s orphanage when the lady’s resources dried up.
No textbook would have found Richard and catered for him like I’d done. Tears trickled down my eyes. Once in while, this happens, I get sad and regret not leaving that woman’s house on schedule. I would still be free now and being Big Mama’s right hand. Sometimes, the wall I built over my heart crumbles and I worry how the woman was coping with all those children. I worry about her worrying about my where about…would she think I’d fled, deserted her for a better life?
I breath with an open mouth, so as not to disturb the other sleeping in mates. I mentally rebuilt the wall of defense again, and sighed determinedly, wiping my tears.
If given a chance…the world better be prepared for me.
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