LIKE MYSELF IN HERS

PART I

With every wonder in the world, the one Pauline found amusing was her mother. She saw Boadicea, and she was more than a heroine. Nothing would change her mind about her, no matter how strict she was with them. She never forgot her mother’s signature words – “I am Phenomenal”, and witnessed her mother look in the mirror and recite Maya Angelou. She did it every morning and evening, like a daily prescribed pill.

They lived by those words in their house; you would recite them before leaving. She never understood why her mother would let them do that regularly – but it became part of her, and whenever she found herself nervous about a situation, she would repeat those lines – like a bird let off from its nest, free, as she should be.

It was a calm morning in Fallazi. The only sound heard was the hard mouths of brooms sweeping the compounds, the flowing taps, and the early morning news. It happened so that the slightest noise could raise an alarm in their neighbourhood. An old building, some would say built before the amalmation of the ethnic groups- a square-shaped clay with a large compound. About fifteen steps from the rusty gate was the shared bathroom and opposite that would be Pauline’s mother’s chamber and hall.

The bedroom was crowded with half of her mother’s clothes. Boadicea stood before the wardrobe door and added finishing touches to her make-up. She wore her black bodycon dress and her tattoo – two words read; “Phenomenal Woman” peeked slightly from the left side of her chest. She caressed her long wig hair with a blue comb till it was straightened to her satisfaction. She was dark, and busty looking lady with a curvy shape that complimented the heaviness of her breast.

Pauline took her mother’s stature though she was young. Her curly hair was as soft as a baby, and her eyes were a carbon copy of her mother's. Anybody who saw her would comment, “You look exactly like your mother when she was younger” but  fairer than Boadicea which shone in the gloom - a little cheeks with dimples on both sides.

 She lay on the mat with her siblings in the living room when her mother walked across them to sit on the grungy sofa next to the squeaky green door that served as a hanger for their towels.

“Pauline, Pauline! Hey… Wake up!” She tapped her, “I said wake up!”

“Mm...” Pauline rubbed her face.

“I am leaving.”

“Okay…”

“Make sure you wake your siblings up and prepare them for school.”

“Yes, Ma,” Pauline responded, half asleep.

“Bring them home as soon as you finish school.”

“Yes, Ma.”

“Don’t go around playing”, she said. “Should I return home and learn that Fafali has gone missing? "You'll be sorry for the day you were born," she warned.

Boadicea had four kids with three different men. None of them she ever intended to have. Her first child was born before she turned eighteen. The second came as a surprise, and when the third arrived, she anticipated anything to happen again, so she was prepared for whoever came next.

“I’ll leave the money on the TV stand,” she fastened the buckle on her heel, “Don’t lose it.” She looked around for her handbag. But instead, she spotted it leaning on the wall opposite where she sat. Pauline crossed her siblings and reached for the bag for her mother.

“Okay, Ma”

"Shut the door." She exited, leaving money on the TV stand.

The only thing she may have disliked about her mother was delegating her motherly role to her. She never complained – a thoughtful gesture from a young girl who knew her mother was only leaving to take them out of the slums.

She knew her mother was among the beautiful ladies in the community when Boadicea was young. Her mother’s portraits, themselves, and Maya Angelou’s ornated the yellow walls in the room. The black broken-down TV stand, a tabletop fridge, and a torn rubber carpet; her mother said she wasn’t repurchasing any again because they permanently destroyed it.

She wondered where her mother would go this early – for the doubt, she knew her mother mainly was not at home, but to leave this early morning caught her in astonishment. Thirteen years old and her thoughts became deeper than she imagined – especially when she heard rumours that went around the community.

She may not have cared, but it was cemented in her thoughts, and she wanted to ask her mother about it the other day, but fear gripped her whenever she tried to approach Boadicea. Her mother had stepped out, and all she could imagine was what she could do outside.

Meanwhile, Boadicea couldn’t wait for the day to vent her anger.

 “Ei Aunty, watch where you dey go o,” Boadicea shouted.

“Sorry,” the young lady apologized.

“You want to soil my clothes with palm oil. Abeg, make I come.”

Boadicea ran over the choked gutter in front of the house. The house was built with clay, and a part was already wearing off.  She walked through a tiny rocky path between the two “Atakpame” houses that led into the streets.

“Bobo.” She heard her nickname in the noise. She craned her neck to listen to the voice. Monday was a hectic day in Fallazi. It was made beautiful by the chants of the bus drivers, the filthy gutters, the bustling students, the early traders, and the community gangsters.

A little closer to the streets then she heard her name clearer, and that was Akuvi, her childhood friend. It was argued that they were the two most beautiful ladies in the town when they were younger. Everybody wished to marry them until Akuvi ran off with her lover some time ago. She came back a few years after and rumored that she was sacked from the man’s house because she couldn’t produce a child.

“Where are you off to?” Akuvi asked Boadicea.

“He called,” she answered.

“Who?”

“You know now.”

“When”

“Last night and said I should come in this morning.”

“At this time?” Akuvi wondered.

“It doesn’t look like I have anything to do, do I?.”

“And the kids?”

“What about them?” she asked, “Pauline will take care of them.” She added.

“Don’t you think…”

“I don’t want to hear about it, Aku.” She fumed.

“Maybe if you would just hear me out?”

“And how will they be fed?”

“I am doing this for them, so they must play their part.”

“They are kids!”

“Oh, please!”

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Boadicea’s phone rang.

“I must leave, baby girl. Kindly take care of them for me should I not be home by night”.

Her mother left Akuvi beside the kiosk, where they had the conversation. Boadicea walked some minutes to the roadside, and a Toyota Camry pulled up where she stood.

She hopped in, and off they went.

Every elderly individual in Fallazi was a parent to the town's children. When your parents were absent, they oversaw disciplining you. So, Pauline, Ether, Maki, and Fafali have passed through everyone in Fallazi's hands; especially Akuvi, who looked after them while Boadicea was away.

The sun was finally setting down the hill of Kumfi when darkness was gradually looming over Fallazi. Traders were returning, wives were cooking, and the children played on the streets. What would Fallazi be without drivers honking their cars in the traffic and throwing shades at each other? They welcomed the nights with the drinking spots flooding the streets with music. It was simply magical; the locals captured the innocence of the town.

Pauline and her siblings had returned from school, and their mother was yet to be home. She thought they would return to meet her. After all, she left before the morning dew, but as disappointing as that was, she couldn’t deny that her mother was never around when they returned from school.

She dropped her bag and went to Akuvi, who lived about three blocks from their house. The buildings were scattered across the town. She headed towards the convenience store and squeezed through the narrow road to the rough road. Right down, about a three-minute walk, was Akuvi’s house.

Akuvi was cooking in front of her room – the kitchen was occupied by most of the tenants. The clothes-drying ropes crossed parallel from one roofing sheet to the other. It was the focal point of the compound house, and the hanging clothing kept Akuvi hidden from view at the main gate. She walked directly to Akuvi.

“Maa Akuvi, good evening”

“Ei Pauline, how are you?” Akuvi responded in her tiny voice with her hands in water. She wore black jeans and an oversized shirt. She wore short-wig hair and lightly shaded makeup.

“I am fine”, she responded. “Did my mother leave our feeding money with you?”

“Is she not home?”

“No.”

“Where are your siblings?”

“They are home.”

“I saw her in the morning when she was leaving for work. I thought she would be home by now.”

“She isn’t.”

“You know what, when I am done cooking, come back with them and eat with me.”

Pauline was the first child and assumed parental duties. Before the birth of her three siblings, she rarely saw her mother at home. She'd awaken to an empty room. Then Ether and Maki were born. She was a full-time parent before Fafali was born. She bathed and fed them, took them to school, and helped them with their homework.

And everything stayed the same after Fafali arrived except for more responsibilities. She was four years older than Maki, five years more senior than Ether and eight years more than Fafali. The last born was everybody’s concern. But no one in the community would dare not face Boadicea about her parenting style. Boadicea had her life to live; not even childbearing would disrupt it.

Pauline got home to meet Maki in a fight with a tenant’s daughter. As a result, he had cuts all over his body. They stood at the edge of the choked gutter with about eight kids surrounding them.

“What happened?” asked Pauline.

“Etor said your mother is a prostitute; everybody knows about it here.” Said a kid amongst the crowd.

“And Maki fought him?”

“Not really, Maki told him not to say that, and Etor provoked him.”

“Where’s Ether?”

“She went with Nakila to Baba’s store?”

“What is she going to do there?”

“Maame Koko sent them.”

Pauline held Maki and dragged him to the house.

“This boy is always in trouble,” said Aunty Neela, “where is your mother?”she questioned.

“She is yet to be home.”

“As usual.”  

Aunty Neela sat in front of her blue door; where she always sat - the oldest in the house and had everybody’s story under her nose. The building belonged to her great great-grandfather, who passed it onto her fathers until it was her turn. They said she failed in all her three marriages and was sacked from her husbands’ house for her unscrupulous behaviour.

She had the whole of Fallazi in her palm, its geography and history. There is no child in Fallazi that she didn’t know about. Every household and its background were on her lips. She saw generations pass while she sat at the exact spot recounting old days.

"Your mother abandons four little children in this terrifying community so she can go about her dubious lifestyle."

Pauline turned to look at Maki, who stood behind her as they stood in front of their door.

“Take that barrel and put it at Yaa’s door”, Aunty Neela said to Pauline.

“Where is Fafali?

“She is asleep.”

“Has she eaten?... I don’t get your mother. How can she be at peace wherever she is, knowing she has a four-year-old daughter in the house?”

Maki entered through the door that Pauline had opened. It was painted green but  covered in hand-prints. The curtain behind the door was gray but stained. She leaned the coal pot against the wall, upside down. The ash from the coal post was scattered across the floor.

“Make sure you sweep the ashes.” Aunty Neela commented. “Let me tell you this,” she spat, drawing the stick from her mouth, “Your mother must be very ashamed to leave you to look after your siblings. You are just thirteen years old and more of a mother than many people I know.”

“…”

“Everyone in this slum is surviving – but you… you are losing your childhood.” she lamented.

Aunty Neela's black dent scared everyone away, and Pauline couldn't look at her while she spoke. She was glad she didn't call her closer but instead chose to talk at that distance.

“I am praying that all hell will break loose in this house one day.” Aunty Neela commented. “Sweep those ashes. I won’t repeat it.”

“Yes, Aunty.”  She enters the room.

To be continued