The lady in the rain

Cynthia stood in the rain with her luggage on Chief Perekulu Street, New GRA Port Harcourt. Almost oblivious of the pouring rain, she had no particular destination in mind but knew she just needed to move. This environment reminded her of failure and made her feel dejected. She found it funny that she had lived on this street for ten years, yet she had never really noticed this particular tree under which she now stood and against which she supported herself as the rain fell in sheets.

She had more on her mind and the pain she bore numbed the stinging effect of the heavy drops of rain on her skin. She considered the rain which poured relentlessly on her a blessing. At least it kept her mind occupied and she figured it was better to remain there under the tree, with the cool touch of the natural rainwater then return to where she was coming from. Cynthia had unwittingly become comfortable with the chain of slavery for the past ten years. Here she was now contemplating freedom. Freedom?

As the rain began to let up after what seemed like an eternity, she began hoping a taxi would come along where would I tell the driver to take me to? she drifted First thing first, though she mused, let the taxi come first and let us see what happens after happy, she smiled dryly. Then she noticed that a particular blue honda Accord car had passed her three times in opposite directions in the last five minutes. This time she saw that the driver flashed his headlights as he approached her. Cynthia was not afraid. After all the torture and torment of the past ten years, she was ready for the worst. She had endured ten long years of anguish, which she was considered unimportant. After ten years of fruitless, ventures where her best effort was regarded as nothing.

As memories of the past flooded her mind Cynthia began talking to no one in particular; I have done all a human could do to be happy. it seems the more I try, the more my pains increase. No one around understands the torture I go through daily. if only this car would crush me. my sad story would end once and for all. But I can't go running to this driver to kill me, can I? It will be suicide and that would mean eternal trouble with God. I still remember the Bible says no one should take his or her own life. That's my problem with God Does He even know that somebody like me would experience this wretched life and still ask me to take my life? Is God not unfair?

As a long-drawn sigh loudly escape her lips, Cynthia realized she had once again fallen into one of her numerous thinking routines. she had been slipping into them more frequently these past few weeks. When will this end? she sighed again as a teardrop trickled down her cheek. She wiped It away, muttering, this is not for tears. The rain ebbed some more and darkness began to set in. Still, no taxi had come by. can't blame them, Cynthia, though. if I were a taxi driver, I couldn't imagine what a mature woman would be doing outside this rainy night by herself. All through my life, no one has ever understood my plight, so why should expect a taxi driver to do so now? Even as she stood there drenched, Cynthia could not even bring herself to stop any taxi in her present condition. How could she when she had no destination? If she eventually settled on one and the fare was cheap, she still couldn't pay. She had no money on her.

Nightfall came fast but Cynthia was unperturbed.

As far as she was concerned, the whole earth could fall on her right there, she was through with all her assignments on earth, what was life, when she had no peace of mind? Suddenly, the same car she had observed previously stopped by her. The driver honked several times to attract Cynthia, but she pretended not to hear what does he want from her? I am sure he will not farce me to answer that horn. when he is tired, he will move off. She was slightly irritated that the man was disturbing her peace.

The driver whose name Cynthia later learned was Boma, was on patrols duty that night and could not figure out what such a healthy-looking woman would be doing out there late as it were, under the rain. Each time he drove past her, something told him that she was in trouble. she didn't look like a troublemaker from her looks but his training as a security officer told him there was more to the woman standing out there than met the eye. He was well within his rights to engage her.

He wanted to ignore her but this spirit would not let him. This woman is not a criminal. She doesn't look it she is also in no way constituting any threat to my job this night either Boma through to himself. Decidedly, Boma did not want to see himself as a security agent this time, but as a concerned citizen attending to a damsel in distress. Tonight, he would be a Good Samaritan to this lonely woman. As he battled with his thoughts, Cynthia just stood starting without focus into the thick blanket of darkness. When she did not respond to the horn, Boma, he muttered under his breath.

" What are you doing here all alone without out even an umbrella over your head, Madam? He asked.No answers.

"it's rather late, where are you going? Are you waiting for somebody and can I be of any help" He prodded further?

Still no answer from the woman. Strange. He moves closer to her as if to cover her with this umbrella. As he drew a mear, he noticed that this strange woman was pretty and attractive even in her present state Boma found himself wondering again what earth could be happening to this woman, could it be a mental Could she be deaf and dumb?

He decided to try again. Madam, I hope you don't mind my interference? I'm only doing my job as a security agent on this street. I must give an account of you as you stand out here now. Please help me to do my job. I have not come to harm you. She turned to look at him well for the first time. As she faced him, Boma nodded encouragingly like he was saying "talk to me." Cynthia cleared her throat, using her handkerchief to wipe her wet face.

"I'm Cynthia, going from somewhere to nowhere she replied.

" What do you mean, from somewhere to nowhere?" he asked, trying unsuccessfully to hide the bewildered expression on his face. Exactly what I said Mr. security; I don't have anywhere to go. I'm going to sleep here the night. if your law says no, then the law should do its work".

Boma could see the pain in the woman's eyes and sense bitterness in her voice as she spoke. He looked at her hand and saw her wedding ring. " Oh! God, what is exactly wrong with this woman? A domestic problem maybe. Boma began to speak to her in a reassuring voice to make her believe he wanted to help her.

No matter what you are going through, remember that you're not alone in it. God is with you Even though you walk through the valley of pains, God understands. Your pains may be there for a while, but joy comes in the morning." He continued "You may have been maltreated and abandoned by those ' loved and trusted but you must remember that God has not abandoned you. What you should be thinking about now is not the problem you are in but how to solve Cynthia's listened silently as he spoke.

The rain had stopped now and Cynthia looked of place in her wet clothes and dripping hair, and here was also his man trying to help her.

Are you married?' Boma spoke again.

Yes, I am... I was. For ten years, I have been married without a child. My husband, Idris, lives about ten poles away from here." Oh, thank God it makes it easier for me. I thought you were from a far place and that you were stranded here. Con I take you home now to your husband?", He offered.

God forbid" Cynthia should. Boma was surprised. How could a woman refuse to go back home to her husband? As they spoke more, Boma realized that Cynthia had been sent packing from her home that evening and that on her way to nowhere in particular, it started to rain, and was forced to take refuge under the tree where he met her. Can I at least talk to your husband? just give me the address and phone number, and I will talk to him on your behalf?" He was hopeful that he could help this woman whatever her trouble was.

The mere mention of a talk with her husband sent goose pimples all over her and suddenly reminded her that she had been standing out in the rain for a long time. She began to shake from the cold and opened her two arms to plead that he should not think of going to her husband "Don't bother about me, I am very comfortable where I am." That didn't sound right Boma through. How can a normal person be comfortable n this cold? I may be wrong n my judgment. she may be sick, insane, or... Boma began to fear for her safety cause of the so-called militants who had been terrorizing the city of Port Harcourt for quite some time now. These were terrifying times indeed because Rivers state had known no peace since Dr. Ambrose was sworn in as the Governor of the State. To make matters worse, a different cult group was out Operating in broad daylight and causing unbearable sorrow and pain to families all over the State. it was like the Nigerian Civil War all over again. people killed for and we're killed for and were over-powered by the sophisticated weapons and superior firepower of the boys.

There was fear in the land. Anyone leaving the house prayed home alive the government imposed a curfew on the city and everyone was expected to be indoors as early! as seven p.m. By six O'clock. people would run helter-skelter to get home to avoid arrest by security agents. The cultists always chose Sundays to operate. There was no Sunday that people were not killed in numbers. from 2.30 pm, they would pour out into the street from God knows where and operate till dawn. Boma was more anxious because today was a Sunday. At this time, no person or car moved around except for security agents who moved from street to street, checking the activities of these cultists. Boma was supposed to arrest this woman for breaking the curfew but here he was instead, pitying her.

"So you don't want me to see your husband," Boma asked again.

Don't even think of it. just leave me alone, I don't want anyone to disturb my peace here" she countered. Cynthia was past caring now and didn't give a hoot about the activities of the cultists. She didn't mind if they came to attack her. She was ready for the worst.

Boma demanded to know of any relation or friend he could take her to at least to sleep for the night. All attempts to get her out of that place failed. The more she resisted the more Boma was reluctant to leave her alone there. Slowly he walked back to his car. and moved out a little further to watch from a distance. He decided to stay put for the whole night instead of patrolling Cynthia on her part sat under the tree and started to cry herself into a stupor.

At about 2.30 am, the sound of gunshots from cult boys rent the air. it was terrifying and all Boma senses were on full alert. He became afraid and worried at the same time for Cynthia.

As the gunshot continued, Cynthia suddenly realizes she needed to be alive. she wished for somewhere to hide with her hands on her head, and she began to recall the incidents that brought her out on the street in the first place as tears rolled down her cheeks. She tried lifting some of her luggage and dropped them back. Where was she going to?

Earlier that day, members of the Atama cult group had a serious brawl with members of a rival group, the Etima. They challenged themselves openly on the streets and the ensuing scuffle sent people on the street and the ensuing scuffle sent people scurrying away from the streets. Members of Atama claimed two of their members were shot by members of the rival Etima cult. The two members who were attacked Akada and Akete were accosted alone at Isma Waterside by four armed boys. Akada and Akete were not armed because they were returning from the home of one of their lady friends, Nora Ikem, one of the four boys who confronted them claimed that Akada snatched Nora from him. And since he could not get her back, after several please, the only way out was to take the life of any man in her life. One of Nora's neighbors told him who Nora's new boyfriend was and he gathered members of his cult group to help him carry out his plan to get Nora back.

True to their plan, Akada was brutally murdered. Acute had his hands hacked off, as a warning to him not to accompany anyone to any lady's house next time. Acute, who knew the boys that cut off his hands were from the Etima cult group reported all that happened to his cult members. The news left the cult members in shock, fuming with rage, and then thirsty for revenge. After an hour had passed the cultists were out of their initial shock. The came, Atan Ibitari. sent word to the rival group telling them to prepare for war, For touching one of their own. The Altima received the news with surprise because there shouldn't have been any cause for such a threat. There had been relative peace between the two groups for two days. Before then they had been in a fight to finish who would control the city.

The head of the Etima cult was a sinister-looking thug called Jungle General. He received the news from their rivals, turned to his members, and addressed them: "A member of Atama was killed today by one of you along Isima Waterside. His friend's hands were chopped off; Ikem knew he was the guilty one, but kept silent. The consequences of admitting responsibility were grave. Though he was already sorry for what he did and also knew how powerful the other group was, he couldn't afford to expose himself. If he opened his mouth to admit what he did, Jungle General would hand him over to the Atama boys faster than he could say his name.

There was silence in the room and Jungle General asked again, who carried out that hit?" Nobody accepted responsibility. He believed his boys and sent word back to the Atama roup, claiming his boys were innocent. When the street war began between the two groups, there was a sporadic shooting in which even innocent passers-by were killed by stray bullets. After hours of continuous shooting, the battle began to shift. Diode area to the new G.R.A where Cynthia was.

As the shooting drew closer, Cynthia decided to take only her handbag, and run hoping that perhaps, she would come back for the other luggage if she survived the rampaging cultists. As she reluctantly left the tree where she had been leaning all afternoon to cross the road, Boma saw her, ran after her, and pleaded for her not to go in the direction she was headed."Why? she blurted out.

"From the security report I got, these boys are approaching GRA from the direction you are heading. They are well-armed. Let me take you to somewhere you can rest, out of harm's way." Boma offered. With all kinds of fearful thoughts running through her mind, Cynthia asked,

"So where are you taking me to that would be safe?

" Let me worry about that." He answered

Boma was thinking ast as he put her luggage in the boot of his car. His house was quite far from where they were. He had no friends or relations living in G.R.A, so where would he take her to? An idea dropped into his mind; he would take her to a guesthouse and pay for at least two nights until she calmed down a bit from whatever was eating her up. Another problem, is how would he explain to her his intention to take her to a guesthouse without sending a wrong message? He had no other choice. When he finally told Cynthia where he wanted to take her, she was not happy but she was very much out of options. The whole town was on fire and right now, all she needed was a place to hide from the indiscriminate venom of the cult boys as they ran amok on the street that night. She didn't care what people would think and say of her as she entered a guesthouse in the dead of the night with a man Even if she told them anyway, who would ever believe she was driven out of her matrimonial home. Her safety mattered most at this moment.

At the Bangkok Guesthouse in GRA, she give five thousand nairas per night room and Boma paid for two nights. He lodged her in with a promise to come back after two days. perhaps by then, she would have made up her mind about leaving town, and possibly, telling him more about her problems. Boma went back to work as Cynthia settled in for the night.

The following morning, there was an uneasy calm all over town. The only reminder of the reign of terror the night before, was the blood and bodies of innocent people killed for events they knew nothing of. In the markets, offices, and motor parks, people gathered in groups discussing the mayhem in hushed tones.

Back in the guesthouse, Cynthia was listening to the morning news. She stifled a scream when she saw a lifeless body lying on Chief Perekulu Street. According to the reporter, the unidentified victim was one of those killed the previous night by cult boys. From the time given in the news report as to when the man was killed, Cynthia calculated and it dawned on her it was only thirty minutes after she had left the street. She began to cry again. If not for that man Mr. Boma I would have been killed too She muttered to herself. She realized that against all odds, she needed to thank God for sparing her life. she wiped her tears, knelt, and thanked God. She also prayed for Boma whom God had sent to deliver her.

Afterward, Cynthia began to think of what to do next. Where would she go when she leaves the guesthouse? She tried remembering her friends but could recall very little of them because she was not allowed to build any strong relationships while she was married. She also feared that with her situation now, her friends ' husbands might not want her in their homes. And since she was not in the mood for any form of insult ever again, she concluded that the only option left for her was to go back to Abuja.

She had lost her parents several years ago. She had no siblings. I will tell Boma that I have finally made up my mind to go back to Abuja. As soon as this thought settled in her mind, she suddenly become irritated by where she was now. Even the guesthouse reminded her of what she has gone through. This city has refused to smile on me no matter how hove tried. I will never be happy if I continue to live here. I need to leave immediately. At least, let me say what a change of environment would do to me she matters with a sigh.

Early the next morning, Cynthia goes herself ready to leave for Abuja. She was only waiting out courtesy for Boma who promised to come back for her. She has hurt no doubt but she still had her manners. A person who saves another person's life should be acknowledged right? There was a gentle knock at the door. She sprang up from the bed praying It would be Boma her saving angel. She opened the door to see the waiter with the breakfast menu. Cynthia was not in the mood. for food that morning. The only person she wanted to see was Boma so she could thank him for all he did for her. As she was about to send the waiter away, Boma walked in beaming sweet iles at her. He took the menu from the waiter and ordered coffee and a sandwich for both of them.

Cynthia tried protesting, but the waiter had already left with the order. Boma could see that Cynthia was still worried about her problems. So he had to force her to accept to do anything. He entered the room and set on the only chair available, whole Cynthia sat. on the bed. There was a long awkward silence between them, each one waiting for the other to speak first. Boma cleared his throat more times than necessary and eventually spoke;

"How was your night?"

"fine, I slept well after I Prayed last night. I have every cause to be happy Mr. Boma ;

The transformation was unbelievable yet obvious, Boma thought to himself. Was this the same woman he rescued two days ago? This woman sitting before him was completely different from the one he met on the street two days ago. What could have caused this change in a person who was literally on the brink of committing suicide hours ago? Boma was eaten up by curiosity. As if she read his mind, Cynthia cut in " what I saw on the news yesterday gave me the strength to live again."

So she already knew what happened. He was at the scene when those two persons lost theirs. When he left her in the guesthouse, he went back to dork patrolling Perekulu S Street. He could still hear gunshots, but this time, they were close to him. They were just two buildings always. Suddenly, he saw them as they attacked a couple entering their compound. Boma immediately opened fire on them. When the cult boys heard the gunshots, they all ran away. But the two victims were already dead.

"I listened to Network News, and they showed the couple who were killed thirty minutes after I left the environment," Cynthia said with an emotional-laden voice.

" That was a miracle," Boma said. " And to Think That I had to beg before you left that spot. I truly thank God for saving you."

There was a knock on the door; they suspected it would be the waiter with the breakfast. Come in" Boma said as he stood up to open the door. The waiter entered and after pleasantries, served them the food and left. Cynthia was reluctant to have her eat. she had lost her appetite following the events happening around her. Boma finished their food and waited patiently for Cynthia to do the same. He came around chiefly because he was curious and wanted to know more about her. He was also convinced that there was absolutely something bothering her. if she was not the cause, someone else was responsible and he wanted to know. I may not be able to know why such a pretty woman will be so tormented. He rued.

Don't you like the food? Boma asked. He had watched her for over thirty minutes fiddle with her meal like she was being forced.

"It's lovely, never mind the way I'm eating, I will finish it" Cynthia replied.

He shrugged and turned on the television to watch until she finally finished. Boma was a football fan. Does he tune to a sports channel showing a league match? A repeat of last night's Chelsea and Manchester United game was on. since Boma did not have time to watch it when it was played, here was an opportunity he didn't want to miss. He was so engrossed in the match that he didn't notice that Cynthia had finished eating. Ahe made little noise and didn't draw Boma's already lost attention till she stood up to enter the bathroom, noisily closing the door behind her.

Boma turned around sharply and observed that Cynthia was through with her meal: He had waited for this; on this: he wanted so much to engage her in a serious discussion on this day that Cynthia desperately wanted to leave for Abuja.

He made small talk by asking if she enjoyed her meal, and she answered by nodding her head. There was another round of silence between the two of them. They both needed to say something, but neither wanted to be first. Boma had his questions while Cynthia wanted to thank him and know why he was so bent on helping her. They both turned to the television to watch the match but they weren't interested in the match. There were more important things that needed to be discussed.

Suddenly, the light went off. The hotel management had turned off their generators to switch to pawer from the Electricity Authority. Boma, sensing that an opportunity had presented itself, spoke up please madam, I don't mean to intrude into your private life. it is not as If I can not help you and go my way. I have a feeling that you are both in trouble and helpless.

I may be wrong, Boma continued, but one thing, I'm sure of this that something Is bothering you. You may have told your tale of woe to many in the past, and so you may not wish to tell me"

He paused to check her reaction. Finding none he decided to proceed, "I plead with you, to give me a hint at least. Ever since I met you under the tree, I have not had peace within myself. The type of job I do does not require much sentiment, but your cases are different.

He got a little bolder and reached for her hands. When I sleep, I see you crying for help. Please let me know what the problem is. I want to know who you are

Cynthia started crying and Boma stopped to watch her cry. The tears flowed freely now. She collected the handkerchief he offered

her to wipe her face but continued crying.

my story is a long one Mr. Boma " Cynthia finally said as she held the handkerchief with her two hands, staring at him. She stood up to walk towards the window, opened the curtain wide like she wanted to see what was happening outside, and stood there with her back to him for a while.

She turned from the window again and faced Boma with her hands folded in front of her chest. She didn't say anything to him at first because she was asking herself all sorts of questions, where do I start my painful and disgraceful story from? Ten years into terrible experience, each day and week with a different story to tell. How do I start and when will I finish the story? I leave for Abuja today would I make it if started to talk? Deep down, Cynthia knew she couldn't afford Ito talk to this angel, who saved her from the jaws of death two nights ago.

Where do start? Cynthia said to Boma

A

t this time, he noticed that her facial expressions areeed changed completar. Her eyes looked weaker than before. She used her hands to brush back her hair covering her face. "Madam" Boma called gently looking up at her, " start from who you are, and then you can switch off the th. She sat down now and took deep breaths to relax and calm herself.

My name is Cynthia. I am...

Cynthia

My name is Cynthia ijeoma Mejor. I am of the Igalla tribe of Kogi State. I was born on November 13th, 1975 to Mr and Mis. Humphrey Mejor. According to my grandmother, my parents met in Abuja in 1973. They got married in 1974 and had me the following year. Following the economic situation in Nigeria, my mother, a qualified nurse, seeking a visa to travel to the United States of America to work. She got it and relocated. My father joined her three years later. I was left with grandma by my parents who planned to come for me as soon as they settled down. My grandma loved me so much because my mother was the only daughter of the three children she had. She also was her eldest child. She enrolled me in Murtala Mohammed Nursery and primary school after my dad left. my parents were still communicating and sending gifts to grandma and me from time to time. One evening I came into the house after playing with my friends to see grandma crying. She tried to clean her tears as soon as she saw me enter. It was too late; I had already seen her tears as she slowly bent her head to wipe her tears with the edge of her wrapper.

Grandma!" I screamed as I rushed to hold her. " What is the problem? Why are you crying?"

Nothing dear " she said and held me close like she was trying to console herself. My leg hurts me so much. Remember I told you I had arthritis? It's painting me seriously" she lied.

I bent down to touch the leg and rushed into her room, and brought out the balm she normally used any time the pains started. Grandma gradually composed herself and deceived me into believing that her leg was the problem. About two hours later, my uncle started coming to the house, each with swollen eyes. They were all gathered in the parlor and spoke in very low tones. They stopped speaking anytime I passed by and pretended to say something funny. Then I was in the second year of Junior Secondary School and had grown enough to differentiate between good and evil. Sometimes was wrong, I told myself. But couldn't say what it was because they were all pretending to me.

Later that day, people started trooping to our compound. Most of them were Igalla people that I knew. My grandma's friends were also coming around. I made up my mind to hide close to the parlor as soon as any other Visitor came in. I wanted to hear what was causing the tension. Nobody was happy yet they didn't want to admit it, at least not to me. Mama Nkemjika comes in shouting at the top of her voice from the gate. She was talking and crying like someone who had lost a child. in truth, her child was dead. After all, my grandma, her elder sister, had just lost her only daughter in America.

My grandmother was an Igbo from State and that was why I have the Igbo Ijeoma. All her other sisters were married in Imo State. Mama Nkemjika came to live with her when she got married and helped her nurse all her children before she eventually met and married her husband in Abuja as well. She was the closest relation that grandma had in Abuja and they shared a very close bond. When the news came, she was away in Imo State for the yearly August family meeting. She came back after a few days to be told the sad Story. She assumed that I would have been told of my mother's death. So she continued screaming and cursing death for snatching her niece, my mother.

So that was it? The whole tension, grandma's bad mood, and the fake arthritis pains? My mother's death was the reason all these visitors came around? I fell to the ground and began to cry. My grandma and uncles rushed out to hold me. I was heartbroken as much as my grandmother. She could no longer look into my eyes because of the pain in them.

My mother has been buried abroad, living my father behind. According to the letter he wrote to grandma, my father said friends and well-wishers came to comfort him. Two weeks after the burial, I want back to school motherless. My friends and teachers consoled me in their way. Though things could never be like before, I managed to carry on. At least I still had my father. My mother's demise ended the further arrangements to take me to America. I focused on my studies and came out with good grades. My grandma's love was so strong. She was there for me and spent most of her pension allowance on me. To her, I am still that daughter she loves so much. I reminded her of the daughter.

As if my mother's death was not enough, grandma suffered a stroke. She had to give to worry immediately after my mother, the doctor warned her of the danger of a stroke when he checked her blood pressure was 110 over 200, which was very high. Although she her. In the evening she suffered her stroke, and grandma screamed while she was having her bath, I rushed to see her, and I saw she was already on the ground unable to say a word, I helped her out of the bathroom, cleaned her up then rushed her to her doctor. She was admitted after the doctor observed she had a stroke.

"Stroke?!" I shouted. How could this be? What could have caused it? Grandma had not complained of any form of sickness nor did she ever starve herself. I would know because I have been there for her. I didn't know that one could be emotionally sick and grandma had been worried over my mother's death. I asked the doctor about the cause of the stroke and if it could be cured. Doctor Lamide know our family well and also knew about my mother's death. He bent down beside me and told me that a lot of things can cause stroke, chiefly anxiety or stress.

"I think your grandma has been. very worried lately " He said in a fatherly manner. As for the cure, let's watch and see what happens. Medically, it is possible, but in rare cases."

Doctor Lamide advised me to call my uncles who also lived in Abuja. After grandma was assigned a bed, I went to get my uncle, I took a bus to use to catch Uncle paul who works with the Ministry of Education. When I got there, I was told that he went out on inspection duty and that he would be back around four o'clock that day. I left a note for him through a colleague telling him about mama's condition in the hospital, I immediately went to uncle Asuwe's office in the same use. He is grandma's lost child. When I got to his office, he stood up immediately to hug me when he saw my swollen eyes.

" What is it?" He asked me. I started crying as I narrated how mama fell and was substantially rushed to the hospital where the doctor diagnosed that mama suffered a stroke. Uncle Asuwe was visibly shaken when he heard that and slumped back on the sofa in his office.

He was an accountant in the bank he worked with. After his youth service with Glass Bank, he was retained and has been with them ever since. He sat on that sofa speechless muttering to himself, how could this be? We try our best to take of mama since our father died. We have been there for her, making her proud. We have supported her so well. Why could she handle the pain which we all bear? The way mama was going about our sister's death I knew she will be in trouble soon. Which hospital did you take her to?" He asked after he had pulled himself together. Dr. Lamide's hospital I answered. He was proud of me, for having the courage to do what I did.

He signed out from the office and we drove down to the hospital. Grandma was still unconscious and was placed on intravenous medication. Shortly after, Uncle paul rushed into mama's quick recovery. Mama Nkemjika was also informed about mama's sudden coma. That was the height of it for me. So I would soon lose her too I thought and cried so much that my Uncles were afraid that something may happen to me. They tried to impress me, but I was already lost. I lost concentration in my studies. I just didn't want anything to happen to grandma. I remember telling Uncle paul I felt sad that his mama was passing away gradually as I looked at her face. She could not even recognize her sweet granddaughter let alone see that she had been crying her heart out for her.

One evening I closed to school and instead of going home to change from my uniform, I decided to go and see my grandma first. I got to the hospital and two Uncles were outside the hospital waiting for me, They did not allow me to go in but told me that mama had asked me to prepare rice for her. Oh my God so grandma can talk now?"

I smiled as I hugged my uncles who pretended to be happy as well. "Let me go greet her first before I go home," I said, and my uncles both said "No!" in unison. Uncle paul later said she slept off after a while,

No problem can we go fast and get the food?" I said very happy that my sweet grandma was well again. As we drove home, my uncles did not say a word to themselves or even me. Their silence was uncomfortable. How could they be so dull when grandma has finally gained consciousness? I thought. I decided to break the silence, "Uncle Paul when will the doctor discharge grandma?"

"Maybe tomorrow, let's see how she improves from now on." He replied.

"I think the doctor said the day after tomorrow" Uncle Asuwe added. That's alright" I chipped in, " As long as she is fine again."

Nothing was said again until when we got home. I quickly brought out the stew from the freezer and boiled rice for grandma and my uncles. I noticed they did eat the food, but it was not as much excitement as they should have with the good news of grandma's sudden recovery. When they finished, I put food in a foid flask so we could go back to the hospital. My uncles were so reluctant to stand up from where they sat.

Cynthia dear," Uncle paul call me.

"Yes Uncles", I answered.

" Please come and sit down, there is something very important that we will like to discuss with you." He continued.

Uncle, can't it wait? Grandma may have woken up now; you know she has not eaten since." I protested.

, "Don't worry she will eat later" Uncle Paul said.

I sat down with my uncles who were silent again. They were looking at each other and wondering what to say and how to say it. "Em, Cynthia how was school today?" Uncle Asuwe asked me. Do you have any problems in school so far?"

" School Is very fine, and I don't have any problems except that want my grandma to recover quickly,"

Those words touched them so much and I saw real fear in their face. By then, Uncle paul had left his chair to sit close to me. He held me very close to himself and began to cry like a woman. He could not hold himself any longer

Uncle, why are you crying?" I asked. Uncle Asuwe also joined him to cry and I sat looking at them.

What is happening to my uncles? Why are they crying when they should be happy that their mother is out of the coma? Wait a minute, could it be they lied to me? What on earth could make both of them cry like babies?

The picture was getting clearer as my uncle hugged me closer than before."Grandma is dead" Uncle paul finally dropped the Bomb. I felt like the room was spinning around me even though I still sat in one place. I could not cry immediately. I stood up to carry the basket of grandma's food to go give her. My uncles rushed to stop me. I went to her beautiful portrait hanging on the wall. I brought it down, placed it on my chest, and started walking around the parlor in a daze. I was smiling and talking to the only woman whom I know had shown me so much, motherly love. I picked up another picture closer to the ground. I carried them both, one on my right hand, and the other on my left. I took them to the dining table where I kept the food, " Grandma" I called, smiling at her picture and asking her to eat. As I did so, my uncles were almost rolling on the ground. I didn't bother about them. All I wanted was to be told my grandma was still alive. Suddenly, I began to scream, My uncles rushed over to console me, and I cried for days, weeks, and months, I was in my first year in senior secondary school.

Who would I go to now? Who would be proud of me and my achievement again? Life has shown me its wicked side.