BLINDED- Episode 1

“What do you remember?” Her voice was soft, too soft; as if she was scared to startle me.

I liked her immediately. Her eyes were focused on me, but I couldn’t detect any trace of contempt. There was no judgment here, only interest.   

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My earliest memories are of a child chasing purple butterflies in the garden that led to the steps of daddy’s office; a child playing hide and seek with Shalom in our walk-in wardrobe. I remember aunty Charity, our laundry lady; she would allow Shalom and I to wash our clothes with light fabrics while she continued washing. We would sit in the garage that housed no cars. It was on a day like this that the eclipse happened; we sat in our underwear on a bench in front of the garage after the darkness had cleared and Peter had come back from school. He showed us the glasses they had been instructed to put on so as to look at the dark moon, and we admired it with envy and pride evident in our wide smiles that showed incomplete milk tooth.

I remember the big tree that we never went to. It stood in all its evil at the end of the compound, far from the house. There was a pathway beside the farm at the back of the house, and on days when I was sure no one would be looking, I would go to the tree. I usually stopped at a safe distance as the ground close to the tree used to sink. I don’t know why I used to go there anymore, but it is one of the memories I remember. I remember how I used to put my sponge in the bucket of cold water whenever harmattan threatened to break my bones, stirring the water with the sponge till it felt warm on my skin. I remember how we would pluck lots of mango and guavas, and eat it on the rooftop on the garage.

My older sisters were in the boarding house while the eldest sister was in the university. I remember playing snake on mummy’s Sagem; and days when everyone would take care of me when I was sick. I loved days I slept off during the mid-week service and one of my siblings would put me on their back as we trekked home, even though I always woke up on the way home but would pretend to still be sleeping so I didn’t have to walk in front of the house directly opposite my house because they had a dog and I believed dogs could see ghosts. I remember we believed putting the moth in the dog’s eye could enable us see ghosts too. We used to run from cows on days when we put on red clothes so that the cows would not think it was their fellow cows’ blood.  I loved using lantern as handbag when I was small, against all warnings from mum. The day it burned my armpits was the last time I did that.

Daddy was someone who fascinated me. I wanted to know what would make him soft I remember the days of dinner with daddy, and how we would be scared to blow our food. Daddy had a policy that you either eat your food hot or leave it to cool before you eat. We used to watch Mount Zion movies, and we had family altars in the morning. I used to sleep a lot during prayers and was a favourite recipient of dad’s throw pillow that used to hit us square on the lip. Daddy was a no- nonsense man, and his voice was enough to get me to behave. My favourite memories with daddy are of days we went on his missionary work to villages and churches together. It consisted mostly of night journeys so we would eat in the car. The people at the churches he ministered at used to give lots of foodstuffs and fruits, some of which we would not be allowed to eat by daddy. I loved the days he used to make us tea with lots of sugar when mummy was not around. But to my little mind, daddy was a separate entity in the house, someone to be feared.

Mummy was a goal-driven woman. She used to achieve whatever she set her mind to. She had a fabrics store when we were young and she sold soft drinks also. We loved going to the shop because we would be able to buy dundu and drink one of the drinks mum was selling. One of the days at the shop was when I swallowed a small vehicle bulb. Mummy was a student at the college close to the house and she was one of the favourite scholars. She used to buy us lots of clothes and bags especially for events and celebrations. She trained many children asides her own and everyone used to call her mummy. She used to shout at us a lot as we grew older but we loved her anyways because we knew she was on her side. We knew she was soft underneath all her threats. She never used the cane on me, but she would tell my brother to flog me whenever I offended her.

Peter was mum’s favourite; the only boy. It was not communicated with words but I knew anyway. He took care of Shalom and I as mum and dad travelled a lot so he was a little father to us. We feared him more than we feared mum. He used to give his own orders and even mum usually pleaded with him when he laid hold on us. I looked up to him though and liked to show him that I could do more than he gave me credits for. My prevalent memory of him was the night he made Shalom and I drink palm-oil. He had prepared yam, and Shalom and I had been fascinated by the prospect of using palm-oil to eat yam, so we filled our bowl with palm oil. He warned us to reduce the palm oil but we promised to finish it; we didn’t. He sat with us till we drank the last drop of the palm oil.

Sarah was scarce in my childhood. She was studying in the university in the north and usually bought stuffs for us whenever she was coming back. I used to crawl under her skirt to check her underwear as a child, and every time, she would let me go with just a warning.

Gbotemi and Dunmola were always in the hostel and I used to anticipate New Year when everyone apart from our parents was at home. We would put big beds in the living room and watch movies overnight.

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To be continued....

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