This week, Adesuwa Uwanikhehi shares a tragic story about loss and pain.
I had seen her that morning as I ate my breakfast of bean cake and pap on the small round table in the kitchen.
"Eat Ketuta eat" my mother said to me, with laughter in her eyes as she carried down the pot of groundnut soup she was holding from the gas cooker in her over sized gown, which still seemed too tight for her as her stomach protruded out of it like a big ball.
She had told me that my baby brother or sister inside her stomach would be due to come out at the EDD which kept me wondering what EDD meant.
I always sat on her bed in the evenings, waiting for the baby to move so that I could feel it. It was a wonderful experience.
"Ketuta it's time to go now" I heard auntie Christie's voice from the parlour making me glad that I was leaving the food behind. I never really liked it anyway.
I took one last look at my mother as she took short breaths before sitting down on the chair in the kitchen. She reminded me of when I soaked my bread in tea. She was swollen all over.
"Mum, will the baby be out today?" I asked
"Maybe," she said; forcing a smile.
"Come on baby," she said with outstretched arms as I hugged her stomach. She smelt of kitchen spices.
"Bye mum" I said before running off to the car.
Coming home from school that day with the school bus, I could not wait to alight in front of my house.
From the crowd gathered in front of our three bedroom bungalow, to the people gathered in small groups whispering, to the people in white (white what? It should be stated e.g white coats) who seemed to be moving back and forth to an ambulance, to auntie Christie's long look, I instantly perceived that something had gone really wrong. "Auntie Christie where is my mother?" I asked as she tried to hold back tears that I could vividly see. Auntie Christie was my aunt who lived with us.
"Come Ketuta" she said with outstretched arms in a husky tone. I hugged her because I was scared of the scene before me, confused as to why everyone was crying and also, because she was the only recognised face.
Then I saw grandma Kofo my paternal grandma and daddy get out of his car. I ran to him embracing him. "Dad, what is happening?" I asked, wondering why his eyes were bloodshot.
It was then I saw a covered stretcher being carried out of the house. Then I heard the sharp cry of a baby.
I had seen this in a movie before and remembered auntie Christie telling me that the person on the stretcher had gone to be with God.
I began to feel my legs give way beneath me as I gradually slipped into a land of nothingness. Then everything went blank...
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