QUEST FOR DECENDANTS

I sat on my old, rusty seat and smiled at my little daughter toddled to her baby doll, I adjusted my glass and crossed my legs. She carried her doll like a mother and kissed it.

She reminded me of how I kissed her soft tiny cheek when she was born, she was fair like her mother, black eyes and curled hair.

Bimpe and I have searched for the fruit of our marriage for the past thirty years of our marital life without an answer.

“Don’t worry, you will toddle with your baby,” Pastor Timothy assured, “Abraham didn’t lose faith in God.”

My Amen to the prayer if paired with a microphone could destroy a building. Ife will be turning two next month and I am not prepared to let go of my only daughter, no after all these years will I lose her.

Several reminders have been sent to me and Bimpe. We moved from state to state only to still being followed. Ife slept in between us every night.

I felt for Bimpe every night, she was restless likewise I. We had to protect our daughter from threats we created in our heads.

“They might come through the window, Abraham,” she pointed at the door.

I hurried to the window and closed it.

“We should off the lantern, they might see us,” she wiped her face and sat on the bench inside.

I shook my head and wiped the tears that welled my eyes. Ife breath brought joy to me. Bimpe hasn’t been the same since she got the first reminder.

Marriage was a beautiful thing for us, she loved me and would risk everything for me. Like every Nigerian mother, if babies voices don’t sound in your house from time to time. The wife of the house is in deep trouble. Bimpe endured that trouble for me. I came home countless time and find her gone. My mother has sent her parking. We have been through these like fifteen times or more.

“Abraham, you need another lady. This lady is a witch,” she yelled.

Bimpe sat on the floor of the corner of the room, buried her head. At that point, I question my existence or if God or any form of gods existed. I wanted answers. That was the last time I saw my mother. I took my wife and moved to another state, all the resources were borne by my wife.

Bimpe sold her inheritance from her father, she has walked everywhere spiritually and physically in search of a solution to our predicament. She was disowned by her father for refusing to append her signature for a divorce from me.

The room we lived in was given to us by the church in return for my teaching skill. Bimpe had a small kiosk in front of the compound. She stocked little provision.

Sometimes, I felt jealous that she was the breadwinner. We lived off her sales and we were happy in our own lives.

I came home from school, her kiosk was locked. I exhaled and looked up. Hoped everything will go smooth, licked my lips and strode into the compound.

“Bimpe, Bimpe,” I knocked on the door, my heartbeat raced before my breath.

I heard no answer, my body excreted more sweat and I rubbed my chest to call myself down.

“She is fine, she is fine,” I hurried to the backyard.

I dashed back inside and met her at the same corner she always stayed. My mother’s yell, her father’s yell flashed back into my mind. That was her escape spot.

“Have they spotted us again?” I whispered and squatted at her front, “Bimpe,” I called.

She raised her head and I shook my head, her eyes were swollen and red. She had cried herself for hours and could speak no more. Her silence and gentle puffed sent tremor into my heart, my stomach cringed and I sat beside her, put my head on her shoulder.

She wiped my tears and nodded her head, wiped her tears and pressed her soft, fair lips against mine.

“My own,” I puffed, “what happened?” I stuttered.

She shook her head, her tears sprinkled over my face and her eyes told more than her mouth. She was fed up. Being called a witch, a barren and the devil herself. I wept for us. If only crying would solve our problem the tears we shed will give us a battalion of children. Our unfriendly neighbour stopped her son from running an errand for Bimpe. We have been through that countless time, after the tears and wailing. We bedded each other hoping God will answer our prayers.

I didn’t have the patience of Abraham despite being named after him. I followed my wife on a voyage that will change our lives. Who cares? We were like Adam and Eve any way in our world. I didn’t know we were going to be kicked out of our beautiful Garden of Eden.

I frowned as we follow the white garment people ahead of us. I spent my last naira on getting us the garment. The gentle breeze blew through me, brought salt moisture along with it. I felt inner peace, I folded my arms and glanced at Bimpe. She was far from me and I drifted to her.

We entered a small hut further from the sea, it was painted white and there were two calabashes wrapped in white linen material. My instinct gave me a clear signal, I felt unwell and my stomach burned.  I glanced at Bimpe and saw the sincerity through her eyes. I felt like she was sure she would get an answer here. I crossed my arms around her shoulders and she stared at me.

“I think we should go back,” I whispered and nibbled her ear.

She shrugged and removed my arm, “we have come too far to give up, my own.”

“I am having a bad feeling about this, my own.”

She shook her head and stood up, raised me and held my hands. “I heard Mother gives answers to people like us.”

I smiled and pecked her. She blushed and looked down. I was happy and pecked her again, it been long she blushed and I loved it.

A woman in a white garment entered, she had a white crown made from cowries and held a white Fly Whisk. We composed ourselves and I looked down.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” Bimpe curtsied.

“Afternoon my children,” she bowed and sat down.

We sat opposite her.

She explained our woes to us and I was flattered but realistic. Maybe, that her ploy to deceive people or she knows for sure. Her stout body made her words seemed unrealistic. She opened one of the calabashes and brought a black substance out, unwrapped it and stared at us.

“I am only a messenger. You should talk to Mother and talk your worries to her.”

Bimpe looked at me and leaned to her. “We will do that, ma’am.”

She nodded and poured the black dust into Bimpe’s cupped hand. “Once I leave the room. Rub it on your eyes and called out to her. She will attend to you.”

“Hope it will be safe?” I tilted my head and gripped Bimpe’s shoulder.

“A mother won’t hurt another child. We are her children,” she smiled and stood up, bowed her head and walked out.

“She is very polite,” I whispered.

“Shush,” Bimpe tapped my lips.

I held her shoulder, “let me rubbed it first and see if it ok. If it's not you should leave here immediately.”

She smiled and put her head against my chest, “I will carry the baby. Let me do it, my own.”

“If you think you would leave me here alone you are wrong. We are doing it together.” I smiled and caressed her cheek.

We did as instructed and held each other hand. I heard the sound of waves and we saw Mother, she brought out her head from the sea to her shoulder. She was the most beautiful thing ever and her colourless tail fins reflected the sunlight. I motioned to her and glanced back at Bimpe.

She smiled. “You called for me?” she whispered, her voice from the core of the earth.

I trembled and grabbed Bimpe’s hand.

“Yes,” Bimpe nodded, “My husband and I wished for a baby.”

“A baby. What do you intend to give in return?” She swam around us.

I faced Bimpe, “I told you. What do we have to give in return?”

“I don’t care, my own. As long as I have my baby is fine by me.”

“I will give you a baby and you will —”

“Thank you very much Mother,” she appreciated and bowed her head.

I nodded and bowed alongside her. “What do you want in return?”

“I will give anything,” Bimpe said excited and hugged me.

She wiped the substance of her face and mine. Mother kept her bargain, we had Ife and our life had meaning, we were leaving for her. Trouble knocked when the first messenger came to us. She came in a white robe. We must sacrifice our Ife back to mother. We changed State after each message.

In the far north where we reside. Tomorrow was Ife's birthday. Bimpe paced up and down the room. She carried our daughter and backed her. She locked the door and the windows switched the kerosene lamp off. I sat beside her on the bed, held her hand and she rested her head on my shoulder.

The weather changed, I heard the storm blew against my window and her soft handheld mine. I must protect my family no matter what. I put my head on hers.

It rained stoned on my roof, further damaged the already weak roof. Deep down I felt guilty and stood up. She clenched my hand, pull me back and embraced me.

The bustling thunder threw tremor into her and she hugged tight.

“Abraham they are here for my baby,” she whispered, tears rolled down her cheeks.

I held her chin, “nothing will happen to Ife,” I kissed her forehead.

Another thunder rendered us apart, the wind damaged the window and blew our roof off. This is strange. Our climate is the tropical desert one such kind of rainfall is expected till the next three months.

I held my wife and we scurried out of the compound. I walked based on my instinct and took every right turn I came too. I wiped Ife's face and looked up.

“Where is our guardian angel?” I whispered, “We need him now.”

Bimpe began to quiver, her teeth chattered and she froze at the sound of thunder. I pulled my shirt and wore it for her and carried Ife from her back. I held her and faced forward.

“Jesus,” I quivered and took a step backwards.

Mother was at our front, she came with a monstrous face. I recognised her by her pearl necklace, a snake circumambulated her in spirals. I held Bimpe behind me.

“You can’t run forever?” she stomped toward me.

I exhaled and peed myself, the once beautiful creature was something different. Bimpe stood in between us.

“You will not take my daughter from me,” she whispered and knelt, “Please leave my baby alone.”

She commanded another lighting and thunder and we were at the sea. I turned around and heard the waves roared to the shore.

“Give her to me,” she stretched her hands forward.

“Never,” I shook my head.

Ife convulsed in my arms, my eyes shone brighter than diamond. I caressed her cheek and laid her on the soft, wet sand beside the shore.

“Ife, Ife,” I called and looked at Mother, “please leave my baby alone,” I rubbed my palm together.

“You said you wanted a baby and I gave you one,” she roared.

“We didn’t know you will take her back.”

“She is no more a baby after today. She will be a child.”

“You knew we wanted a child?”

“You didn’t ask for that?” she roared.

I staggered and fell, her powerful voice parked wind in it.

“You crazy monster, leave my daughter alone.”

“She is my daughter and I gave her to you and now I want her bark,” she swayed her hand.

Blood rolled down from Ife’s nostrils, my heart fought against my rib to come out. It can’t bear the pain.

“Please mother,” Bimpe crawled to her, “a mother will not hurt another mother. Please leave my baby,” she rubbed her palms together.

She frowned and folded her arms, her snake crawled toward Ife and go round her and return to her.

“Thank you mother,” she bowed and looked at her baby.

I hurried to Ife and carried her, her arms dangled from side to side. I knelt and screamed my pain out, I held the lifeless body of my pretty Ife, hugged my baby and kissed her tiny cheek. This time she didn’t smile back at me.

“Don’t thank her, my own,” I put Ife on the ground and bolted toward Mother.

She disappeared and the rain stopped. I staggered as I held my pace and fell to the ground. Bimpe crawled to Ife and carried her.

“Ife. Wake up, mummy is here,” she caressed her cheek, “Ifemi, please wake up,” she put her head on her chest, “No, no,” she yelled and faced me, “my own. Ife is dead.”

I nodded and wiped my tears, another replaced the ones I wiped.

“What is a life worth living for?” She collapsed.

I zoomed to her and caught her before she hit the ground, “Bimpe, Bimpe,” I put my head on her chest, her breath dwindled and her essence slipped away. “No,” I kissed her and hugged her.

I sprang up and brought out the bottle of the black substance the stout woman gave us. “Mother, you must come here and bring my family back,” I yelled and rubbed it on my eyes.

I fell into another dimension, peaceful and calm. Bimpe wrestled with Mother. She suffered heavy damaged that her body swell. I folded my arms and watched the battle between my wife and the mean sea goddess, tears flowed unhindered, my Ife body by her mother. Bimpe carried our Ife and called out my name. I squatted beside her and wiped the substance off my face.

She exhaled and caressed my cheek and smiled. “My own,” she whispered and coughed.

I hugged her and held her hand, she wiped my tears. “Take care of my Ife and bring her first child back to the sea.”

“Another promise, Bimpe?” I shook my head, “no, Bimpe. Not again.”

“That is the only way,” she whispered and said gibberish.

I moved my ear close to her mouth and all I heard was “I am sorry, my own.” She tilted her head.

I closed my eyes, my tears dropped on her face, I pictured all our good memories before the trouble started. We were young lovers who finished Youth Service together. The visit to Olumo rock, the day at her church and the day Ife was born.

“Our impatience and carelessness led us to this,” I whispered and laid beside my wife, “we played with destiny in our quest for descendants. What is meant to be yours will always be yours and what is not won’t be. We were happy without a baby and happiness doesn’t come from anywhere but yourself. We followed what people said and it led to the death of my own,” I closed her eyes and put my head on her breasts.

“Ba,” Ife toddled to me.

I sat up and stretched my hands toward her.

“Ife mi,” I threw her up and caught her.

She smiled, her tiny hands massaged my cheeks. She was young to understand. We made another promise to the Sea Goddess to keep her safe.