UN-FREE

Ife looked at the birds that sat at the top of her Toyota Highlander, and today, she wasn’t angry that they had chosen to answer the call of nature on her newly acquired number. She studied their every move, as they excreted, and marveled at the fast pace they flew away afterwards, oblivious of the mess they had created. Particularly, she was fascinated about their freedom to take off  and leave the mess for someone else to clean up. She’d imagined that the birds probably flew away because they could not stand the smell of their excreta, and decided to take succor in nicer scented areas.

Everyone should be free like birds. No one should hold on to any problem, that would deter them from living, she thought, as she let out the tears that were begging to be released, and had already formed an excruciating  pain on her throat. She wept for Aunty Irene.

Everybody loved Aunty Irene. She was that beloved aunt that the children in Meadowhall Lekki Street preferred to their mothers; which was safe for the mothers, because they knew they could entrust them to her care, in their absence.  Aunty Irene was her mother’s only sister, and had come to live with the  Johnson family when her maternal grandmother passed away. Subsequently, Aunty Irene became her second mother, and filled in for mother dearest during open day sessions, career days, and other parents, especially as her parents both worked in banks that hardly spared time for other personal  activities. She was an only child, have would have been spoiled rotten, but for Aunt Irene that was there to put her in check.

It started when she turned eight.  As usual, her mother had travelled two days before, to Kano on an audit assignment, for Guaranty Trust Bank.  She had just finished her English homework, and gone through her notes with her dear Aunt. They both slept off in her room, after reading Enid Blyton's "Adventures of the Wishing Chair". Suddenly she heard a noise at the door, and afterwards, saw her dad come in to the room, staggering drunkenly towards her aunt’s position of the bed. In her sleeping open eyed state, she could hear voices. “Irene, come to bed with me, just this once……..just this once. Your sister Mabel doesn’t have to know”. She stiffened on the bed shut her eyes tighter, for fear of being caught listening. “Brother Tunde, e mi o le se. e mi o le se, e mi o le se ( I am not doing, I am not doing).”, she could hear her aunt, repeatedly. She squinted her eyes to get a  better position of her dad. She had never seen her dad appear needy before. He looked like his life depended on whatever Aunt Irene had to offer him. It was all new to her; Daddy should be with Mummy, not here. Finally, she slept off, after dwelling on the shock of watching her dad being pushed violently out of the door, by very her angry aunt. She never forgot that experience.

Subsequently, Daddy visited her bedroom frequently, at any chance he got, especially when Mum travelled, and for every time he came into her room, she made conscious efforts to catch glimpses of the moments. Many a time she promised herself she would report such incidence to her mum whenever she returned from her business trips, but the words never came out. As little as she was, she knew she had to tell it all to someone, but she couldn’t. For the life of all sincere, she wondered why her aunt could not speak up as well. Eventually, she came to the conclusion that Aunty Irene must be enjoying every bit of the weird “game”. Thereafter,she identified the need to be free like a bird, and for every time she yearned to be free, it always ended with an excruciating pain, stuck to her throat, that she couldn’t throw up or swallow.  Things were never going to be the same.

Was she right! On her 9^th birthday, Ife was particularly excited, because Aunt Irene was coming to pick her up from school, for the first time. Afterwards, they were scheduled to be on a flight to the beautiful city of Dubai, her very first overseas trip; her birthday gift for acing her grades in school. Mum had an earlier business to call to Rivers State, but this time, she couldn’t care less. In fact, her parents were permitted to miss all of her birthdays, if their presence was exchanged with such treats.  Not even the pain from stokes of cane lashed out by her headmistress, Mrs. Kalejaiye, for not paying attention during the Social Studies class, could kill her joy. She was all set for a birthday to remember.

Certainly, time must have stood still and disappeared for Ife, because by 4.00 pm, her aunt was nowhere in sight. Every student of Tender Hearts Academy, Lekki  had left the school premises, and the school was deserted, except for Mr.  Obi, the school bus driver for the Ajah  axis, who had just returned from dropping off students.  ‘Ife, you still dey here by this time? Why you no follow ya bus” He approached her on the reception platform. “Ngwa, let me take you home, pack ya things”, as if he read her mind.  She mumbled a “thank you” as she hurriedly jumped out of the school bus, running towards her aunt’s room, and the image she saw, was to be imprinted in her subconscious for years to come.  The door to her room was ajar, but she halted when she heard sounds of pleas and voices with forceful tones. “Brother Tunde, you can’t do this, you can’t possibly want to do this. I’ve been a helping hand to your family for years. I can’t hurt my sister. I’ve been quiet all this while. If you come any further, I’ll tell her everything. “.  Ife couldn’t move from her spot. She was frozen, like an ice ring, and jolted to reality when she heard her father’s voice” she wouldn’t mind, would she? Hasn’t she starved me enough? I need my sanity. Just this once, Irene, I beg you”. She had mustard enough courage to peep through the door, enough to see what she mistakenly came across  she accidentally opened a file marked ”xxx”, on her father’s phone. She heard Aunty Irene’s hollow cry of pain, and a mighty shove, and she ran out of the house.

That was ten years ago. Aunty Irene was never identified whole again. She was moved to the psychiatric hospital in Yaba, a broken woman. The clergy men left, so did renowned psychologists and trained shrinks, without finding a panacea for Aunty Irene’s medical condition. For the remainder of years, Aunt Irene had to deal with taking shots from the doctors, to be able to mumble decent words. She watched as her aunt dealt with pain, and how no one ever noticed, when she became hysterical anytime she saw her dad. Her mum had long quit her lucrative bank job to start  her fashion design business, amidst the accusations that she had used her sister for money rituals. She never got the chance to find a decent man that she could have children she had always loved, with. The children, she loved, and had given up her painful life for.

She looked at her car, and the mess, she had to clean up.  The mess had had nothing to do with the pile of shit that had formed a meal for a heap of smelly maggots. She had just received a call from her mother that Aunt Irene had passed away the night before, on an overdose of pills.  As she cried, the pains of yesteryears were regurgitated. If only she had opened her mouth, to tell a confidant what she has had to deal with. Who could she tell that her most beloved aunty died protecting her sister’s home, and had to offer her life to keep the home front all together?   She wiped the tears from her eyes, picked up a piece of rag from her bathroom  and headed towards the stairs to clean up her car. After all these years, she was finally ready to let the bird out of the cage. Call it damage control.