Chapter 5

Already, I'm done with secondary school. Now, is the time for me to make a choice. Either to apply for a tertiary institution or not. But can my mum shoulder the expenses? I can't tell unless I ask her. But since I'm her only child for now, why won't she train me at University? She has to. However, on a serious note, as old as I am, I've not for once heard anything about my father or even his relatives. Could it be that he's dead or what? Or my mum doesn't know my dad? That's unthinkable! Is this not a good time to ask my mum about my foundation? How I wish she will be plain enough to tell me the truth. She always deviates from this topic whenever I mention it. That must be a signal that something is hidden in the story. Who knows whether the truth would favor me? What if she's hiding it for my good? This is serious. And even Comfort, my aunt has never discussed anything about my paternal home in my presence. I have to ask my mum. This time, maybe she would consider my age and tell me the truth.

I was lost in thought since I was left alone at home while preparing dinner in the kitchen using our small gas cylinder. Everywhere was seemingly calm. I could only hear the hissing sound of the cylinder emitting gas. I was sitting on a small wooden chair that was designed "just for the kitchen." Many things have been bothering me, but how will I start? My mum knows the pain of not knowing one's father, talk more of knowing whether he's alive or not has hidden the truth from me. Occasionally, I conclude he's dead and that's why my mother doesn't want to talk about it. But there's something in me that always repel such a conclusion. I have nobody that would tell me the truth except my mum. But she's been concealing the truth.

However, I was still thinking about what was bothering me when the evaporation from what I was cooking slightly opened the pot cover and splashed some water into the cylinder burner. The hissing sound I heard drew my mind back to the kitchen, though I was a bit scared. I couldn't imagine how I hurried and uncovered the pot. I knew not that my mum also heard the noise until I heard her yelling my name and asking me what I was doing, which took my attention away. As much as I could, I was polite enough to control the situation, so it didn't escalate to anything else. Furthermore, I focused on cooking and in a short-distance time, the food was done. In a jiffy, I dished out the food for mum and myself.

"Mummy, I would like to ask you for something before we go to bed."

I couldn't wait for my mum to retire to her bed after eating the meal before I came up with the topic that had been a great puzzle to me. The tone I used to make the request was so civil that she had to give a listening ear to my words.

"My love, what do you want us to discuss? As you're this polite, this thing must've disturbed you for a while." My mum asked.

Since I have drawn her attention in such a manner, I had to find a means to maintain the already existing momentum, I went closer to her and tried all I could to show her how concerned I was about what I wanted to discuss and said;

"Mummy, I've been wondering if I never had a father. Or whether he's late. It's giving me much concern because you never made any mention of him. Sometimes, people do ask me about my father. Since I don't know anything about him, I do cook up a story and the other and tell them. I guess at this age I'm supposed to know even if not the whole story in entirety, let it be the major own that will give me a picture of who he is or was if already late"

It was so unfortunate that my mum couldn't stand my words, for the reason best known to her. I was still making my utterance when she bent her head with such quietness. I watched her as she was gently shaking her head. Tears couldn't wait to be called before they did arrive. She used her bare hand to clean her eyes and then turned to be with the red eyes and said;

"My daughter, I'm hiding it for your good. It hurts me more than you can ever imagine" she answered while I noticed a teardrop down from her chin. I stretched out my right hand and cleaned the tears. But since I was inquisitive to know more about my Dad, not minding the hot tears in her eyes, I further said…

"Mummy, just tell me. I might be ashamed of whom he may be or what he did or does. But I would never be ashamed of having a father."

"Well, Rose, I'm ashamed of both him and myself. I'm only trying to heal, and that's why I've been trying all I could to forget him."

I couldn't allow my mother to finish her words before I intruded…

"How can you forget about him while I'm here? I guess that's not going to be feasible."

"I know! But I have to try. This is what happened" She said.

"I met with Hamza when I was 19. Hamza turned out to be an excellent man. He treated me just like a queen. Though, he told me that they came for work that might last only for some months. But according to him, the contract would last for more than a year. I started dating him and having a good time with him. To an extent that my family member got to know who he was to me. They canvassed against the relationship, though, I didn't know what clouded my mind that I couldn't understand what they were saying. On my 20th birthday, I took in for him. The family all deserted me since I disappointed them. The pregnancy was just four months when police officers nabbed Hamza that he was an armed robber. To my greatest surprise, the evidence they provided was enough to prove Hamza guilty of armed robbery. And he pleaded guilty. He was jailed, and he died while serving his jail term when the pregnancy was 8 months. I couldn't stand before my family. They were all trying to come closer to me, but I was and still running from them because I'm just a prodigal daughter. I never knew any of his family members. No one to tell me that he's related to Hamza. That, that…"

Then that she already started stammering, I noticed her face was too pale. She was tearing up profusely. I couldn't even console her enough, since I was already losing it. I looked at her face and noticed got drops of tears down my chin. Furthermore, I dragged myself closer to her and hugged her very tightly. It's just as if she'd been waiting for that moment. She was subbing like never. I didn't even know the best line of words to use, though I said to her…

"Mummy it's okay. I understand. It's okay"

She also noticed that I was crying, then we consoled each other. At least, I now know the story of my Dad. Who knows what pushed him to partake in such atrocity? Or is it in his blood? I still have some things to find out.