A PATHETIC STORY

The morning was dull and chilly, when Nye, Maro and Efe drudgingly made their way home. They hadn't taken a bath, they hadn't eaten, the sun had barely risen in the sky, yet their hearts were set. 

They knocked on the gate, hoping and praying that she would answer. They hadn't slept in their house since mother threw them out into the streets, forsaken, at midnight on a Sunday. And while they stood, they looked around at the grounds they had swept and cleared from grass with their very hands. The sands gleamed sparkly white in the morning. Something so insignificant, but somehow their hearts still twisted in pain, knowing that they would never see it again, nor never more admire how neat it they had made it. 

Mother answered the gate, looking at them with hard eyes, expectant, she said, "yes, what do you want", in a voice heavy with sleep. 

"We are here to pack all our things and leave.", the sisters declared. 

If mother was shocked, she did well not show it, she only said, "let me first pray, I haven't prayed, after I do, I'll let you in."

The eldest, angry, said, "our packing won't bother your prayers mommy, let us in!"

*****

A moment later, they were standing in their room. The windows were closed, the door precariously unhinged, and every thing was in disarray. 

The last time they were here..., 

Nye was sitting on the floor, wailing, her face was red and appalling, where the man-of-God had rained blows on her head. Her neck was torn with ugly injuries where auntie thad strangled her with her jacket which had an iron zip. Maro had sheltered her younger sisters inside and barricaded the room against mother who was intent on knocking it down. She threw herself at the door countless times and tried picking it, all the while shouting that the girls were possessed with legions of demons, that they were daughters of Jezebel, and that they must leave her house that night. She was never able to get in though. Efe was too tired to feel, or weep that night, her body ached all over, and the only thing she wanted to do then was sleep. 

When they had packed their bags, they dragged them across the corridor ... 

it was here that auntie Ejiro had sat on Efe and punched her senseless. It was here that the man-of-God had dragged Nye, the youngest and smallest, into the darkness and punched her on the face repeatedly, all the while shouting "You, you, I have been seeing you, or is it because I have been keeping quiet since!" It was also here that Maro, the eldest, when she saw this turned to mother in despair saying, "Mommy see, he's beating my sister, your daughter!" And mother, already excited with rage at this point had screamed "And so? Let him beat her! He has the right!" 

Maro, appalled by her words had said to her, "Mommy, you are a disgrace!" 

Mother slapped her several times across the face then shoved her into room, and the last thing Maro saw was one younger sister being pummeled on the ground and the other being punched by a man and at the same time being strangled by auntie Onos with a jacket that had an iron zip. 

They had always been abusive, their aunties and mother, all part of their 'spare the rod, spoil the child' mentality. When they were younger, they didn't even know they were being abused. It got worse over the years as they grew older and constantly stood up to them. But the adults didn't like being stood up to, or questioned, especially mother, who had an ego as big as the universe, never forgiving any slight to it, not even the most trivial. Suffice to say she was borderline egomaniacal. 

The three girls were no match for the adults, for the latter were bigger and had seen harder times, having the strength of farming men. Whereas the girls had lived a sheltered life, Mother and aunties had shielded them from the world, and had sent them to good posh schools. 

Remembering all this, the girls shook their heads and dragged the luggages past the corridor and into the parlour. Mother was there singing along and dancing to the gospel musics playing from the DVD, as if her daughters wanting to leave her didn't bother her. But the girls knew better. 

"Mommy, we want to carry our bags outside,..." Maro said,

"...we need the key to the gate so we can pass." Nye completed

"There is no key." Mother stated 

The sisters, puzzled, "what do you mean there is no key?"

"It means that there is no key." 

The sisters sighed in frustration, as well as exhaustion. 

Mother was at it again. 

As if they were not serious, like they were wasting their time, 

she wanted to control them again. 

First she threw them out, now she would not let them leave. A power play, to remind them who was boss. 

And at first the girls were timid, cowed. It is not so easy to break out of control. 

Mother went into the bathroom to wash while the girls stood stranded in the parlour, taking everything in. It was in this very parlour that the fight had broken out. That night..., 

the sisters had fully dressed in preparation, having it at the back of their minds that things were going to get violent. Every time there was a disagreement, the adults always saw it as a battle of strength, to show who was physically stronger. They were embarrassingly childish that way. Maro and Nye had even armed themselves with knives. Their hearts beat wildly in their chests in anticipation, afraid because they had chosen to take this stand. They could have chickened out then, and tolerated the adults, they have been doing it for years haven't they? But they bravely headed into the parlour, where the man-of-God lounged on their couch. They was no turning back from the path they had taken. 

This showdown had been imminent for weeks. 

The girls were not the only ones who had readied for that night. They overheard from conversations that the man-of-God should not bother about the girls because he was not going to leave the house simply because they disliked him and didn't want him here. That whatever demon possessed them would be beaten out of them. 

The girls had surrounded him, take away his food, and screamed at him to leave their house and family alone. Aunty Onos came out, hands already raised to hit Maro, when the plucky young girl brandished her knife, her eyes and stance saying, 'Go on, hit me if you dare!'. Auntie Onos had drawn back in shock and for the first time, in genuine fear of them. Mother in rage had charged at Maro with an iron rod, while Efe and Nye pushed her away, while she screamed, "You want to fight me! You disrespect me!"  

The man-of-God had run from his chair and stood behind the aunties who shielded him with their bodies from their possessed nieces, with his hands on his waist, watching the drama unfold. Maro later said that it was when she looked at the glint in his eyes that night, that she confirmed that this man was truly evil, and was not of God. 

After pounding Nye that night, he had run away with his bag. Aunties carried him to safety.

And Maro, when mother had gotten distracted from throttling her, instantly threw her sisters behind her and locked the door. That was before Mother threw them out of the house, believing that after being stranded for a few days, they would come back, remembering what she meant to them, and beg forgiveness. 

Not this time. 

Now here they were, the Friday after. 

Maro, enraged at mother bellowed, "Mommy stop this play, you cannot control us anymore! Now give us the key and let us leave!"

"Which play?" Mother enquired, "Who is playing here? And who you are talking to like that?"

"You!" Maro fired 

Efe and Nye were too sorrowful to speak. 

"What did Father Paul tell you to do?" Mother thundered. 

The girls remembered well the solemn-faced priest. 

The priest amazed, asked them to tell their story from the beginning, and the girls told him. How they had first known the man-of-God two, three years ago, he had been suggested by a priest to assist in the family prayer session. How at first things were okay until after the sessions, when the man began calling the sisters every single day, talking for exorbitant amounts of time, how he would ask them to call him, "my love". How they had stopped picking his calls, and how, when he saw them keeping their distance from him, began showering them with gifts and would like that they sat at either sides of him while he put his hands around their waists. How this disgusted them, and how mother would frown with disapproval if they dared refuse. How he began spending more and more time at their house; 1 day, 3 days, 2 weeks. How when he perceived that the children didn't like him, began telling the adults that their son, the girls' brother was homosexual. How the adults vituperated the poor boy until he no longer came home, and when he finally did, started beating his sisters up, especially Nye, and spoke vulgarly, all so he could prove to mother and aunties that he was a man, that he wasn't weak. And when Nye had spoken out against his bullying, the adults had told her, matter-of-factly that he was a man.

How the man prophesied that Efe would become an Atheist because she read too much, that too much knowledge was a sin. How mother had beaten Efe with a plywood to her buttocks because she couldn't understand how one did not like a prophet who always prayed for her and had bought her gifts. Auntie Onos had called them names. 

How they were gained some relief when the man-of-God was sentenced to five years imprisonment on the charges of rape in another family he had stayed with. How that was the way he lived; siphoning off one family or another under pretence of prayers and casting out one demon or the other, telling his targets things they so desperately wanted to hear and believe. He was too lazy to work, and this was why he wanted to become a priest. And how when he wasn't given his orders, told everyone that the seminary school was fraught with politics and homosexuality. How he had escaped from prison after two years and had shown up at their house on New Year Sunday. How the adults were too happy to receive him. How they made it clear that the man could not stay. How mother had said that since she was the one paying the rent, she would not be dictated to, and that instead of the man leaving the house for them, they would leave the house for him. How the girls had told him to his face to leave, that he wasn't welcome, thinking he would be sensible to do so. As it was, the man remained at their house obstinately. How they began being rude to him, destroying his things, telling him outright to leave, anything to make him uncomfortable. How the man reported everything they did to him. How auntie Ejiro had said they were evil and heartless, claiming rights in a house that they were not paying rent for. She threatened that Mother would abandon them the way their father did, that they were just as useless as their father, and that her sister was doing them a favour by raising them. The girls had screamed back that Mother was doing no favours in raising them, they didn't ask to be born, and as such Mother should suck it up and stop blackmailing them for something that was her responsibility. How auntie screamed and declared that she no longer knew them and that they were strangers to her, and how she attacked Nye. How Aunty Onos had also told them that people like them who provided no money for the household had no right to talk in any matter. And that they were nothing, less than nothing. How the man-of-God had begun to tell the adults that the girls had malevolent devils, and that they were the ones standing in the way of the adults' prosperity. How every night since then, they held loud prayers against the girls, that the heavens should rain fire on their heads, that God and all the angels and saints should flog them and Mother Mary should strangle them.

The priest, being an old-fashioned man and a friend of their mom, had told them to go beg their mother's forgiveness, for the sake of reconciliation, that no matter what, a family should never be torn asunder. The girls, angry, firmly told him that reconciliation was impossible, and they could no longer stay together as one and forget that everything that happened, happened. The damage had been done and could not be undone. They also told the priest that the root problem the adults. That things like this have been going on for years, that their by far eldest sister who was the spit of the adults frequently bullied them who were smaller and weaker, and could do nothing about it. Mother allowed it because she was older. Atimes, she would even punish them for the wrongdoings of this eldest. They had only been managing one another all these years in the name of family. But if they could allow an outsider to do this to them, it meant that family, which was supposed to keep them safe couldn't protect them anymore. Nobody could protect them anymore, they had to protect themselves henceforth. 

"It is not forever," Maro had said, "but a time comes when you need to draw a line."

What made it worse was that the girls understood why the adults were this way. Life hadn't been easy for them. They had suffered neglect and hardships at the hands of relatives, their own father.

They had struggled, worked hard, fought tooth and nail, to get to where they were today, and they had achieved that together, one unbeatable force, and despite her runaway husband, Mother, and her sisters had started a family of their own. Their achievements were noteworthy, if the fallout wasn't so devastating. 

"Mommy, we are not going to beg you or ask your forgiveness if that is what you mean, those times are long past." Nye said

"My womb will never be divided!" Mother had cried, "My family will not be divided, until you people do what you are supposed to do, nobody is going anywhere!"

Then mother began calling up everybody she could, even those she wasn't supposed to; Father Paul, the children's Dad, their brother. They could see that mother was flailing, like a fish out of water, desperately grasping for whatever bit of control she had left. But the fight had gone out of her. 

Out of all of them. 

"Mommy, instead of all this drama, just tell us you want us to stay! Say it!" Maro had yelled

"Me," mother said in pretend consternation that the children could so easily see through. 

"You are the one that told us that we are daughters of Jezebel, that we are from the pit of hell! You said it!" Nye yelled

"Yes, you are everything I said! No child of mine would behave this way..."

"Oh stop this mother! Look around you! All your children have gone from you!"

"Your worst fears have come true mother," Efe said, "and it has come to fruition by your own hands, you have nobody to blame but yourself."

Maro, went inside, reemerging with a hammer, and battered the padlock until it gave way. 

The moment she did this, they all saw it, Mother instantly deflated, the way a runner does when he knows he has lost a race

"Go then!" She resigned in a weak voice that shook,"leave my house!"

But they were already hauling their things outside while Mother hovered around without actually going close to them. 

It was then the children realised that the adults were afraid of them, as much as they were of the adults. That was why they always tried to suppress them. Why they always beat them, threatened them, made them afraid, because they knew what they could be capable of, only the children didn't know before what heights they could reach. They still didn't know then. 

"You people will buy my padlock back for me," Mother was ranting, "you broke my padlock, you people will buy it back, do you hear me!"

Pathetic, mother was pathetic

This story is pathetic 

Her children looked at her then in pity, at what she'd let herself become. 

Their hearts shattered within them. 

As the bus drove off, past familiar streets and faces they would never see again, Nye had wept and wept in anguish, but she said 

"I do not regret leaving, this is mommy's greatest punishment, but it's all just so sad."

"I'm sure mother cried too," Efe said. Mother may put on all sorts of bravado, but they were only to hide her weaknesses and fears. 

Efe continued, "How now will we fend?"

"We will work something out," Maro replied, "we will survive. 

"I know, just never thought our lives would turn out like this." 

And the siblings looked on into the horizon. 

The road was unsure, the future uncertain. 

And Efe said, "Maro, Nye, for the first time in my life, I know what it means to be heartbroken."