(Episode 1)

I am going to tell you a story. You might
decide to believe it or not; it is up to you.
Some stories sound incredible when told, but
this world we live in is wide and also small;
things have happened in distant lands that will
make you find sleep like a lost coin. Things
have happened in this country, in this town, that
will make you lock your doors and never want
to step out again. My dear friend, this world is
a cruel place but it also beautiful. I have tasted
of its beauty and I bear the scars of its cruelty.
Do you want more wine? Are you cold? I can
get you a blanket for your feet, if you want. The
harmattan season here is usually as chilly as
the winter season in the West. You are
comfortable? Good.
How do I start my tale? There are so many
places to start from… hmmm… I think I will
start from when things began to change. When
I woke up that morning, about thirty-five years
ago, I was a princess, I was a star; I was
young and I was foolish.
Papa had owned a chemist… no two or three, I
think; I never got to find out but I know he was
doing very well for himself. He never took me
to his shop but I heard him and Mama talk
about it. Papa was the eldest of five children
and it fell to him to cater for them and their
families, as well as us. He had not gone to
school but had learnt the chemist business as
a carpenter or a tailor learns the trade. His
master was Mama’s father, a wealthy
businessman. Mama’s father had not been
happy that she had married my father and he
had shown his displeasure by refusing to settle
Papa after his years of service. Undeterred, my
parents had gone on to build a prosperous
business.
I woke up and said my prayers that morning,
which was the norm in my house. That day
though, my prayers were unfocused; I could
hear voices coming from the sitting room and I
was curious to find out why people filled our
house so early in the morning. Making the sign
of the cross hastily, I rushed to my door,
twisted the handle and opened the door slowly,
making sure the door made no sound. This
skill has been perfected as a result of my
eagerness to watch late night movies, which
Papa had banned me from watching. He had
said I was too young to stay up late. Well he
didn’t know that while he and Mama snored on
the chairs in the sitting room, I was usually
under the same chairs, absorbed in the
television screen.
I stepped into the corridor and glanced to my
left. My parents’ room was closed. I smiled
and tiptoed to the entrance into the sitting
room. I grabbed the curtain that blocked my
view and twitched it aside, like a breeze. The
curtain shivered and a small gap let me see
into the room. It was filled with people;
neighbours, family members, strangers and our
parish priest. I stared with wide eyes which
opened further when I saw Mama on the rug,
crying.
I could not understand what was being said but
I knew something was wrong. A wicked breeze
blew at the curtain and the gap closed. I
frowned in frustration and twitched the curtain
again. I could hear the words; ‘it is well.’, ‘God
knows why… sister don’t cry… he is in a better
place… Na wa o, just like that? E no sick o…
this world…’ I could hear Mama mutter a reply
but her tears muffled the words. I was curious;
“who is in a better place?” I wondered, my
thoughts treading different paths, trying to
solve the puzzle.
Light suddenly pierced the artificial gloom
made by the closed window curtains. I forgot
my investigative attempts and peered into the
room, to see my Uncle Maximus walk in with
his wife, Aunty Ebube. I did not like him. Mama
did not like him. I am not so sure Papa did
either; he probably bore his presence because
he was his brother. He always looked at Mama
like the way the cat, Tom looked at Jerry, the
mouse, anytime he came to the house and he
is always asking for money. One time, father
gave him my school fees; Mama was so angry
and they quarreled after he left. They never
quarrel. That was the first time I heard them
exchange words. I don’t like people that will
make them quarrel. It meant I couldn’t sleep
and therefore had to woke up late. It meant I
was flogged by the head master at school the
next day for getting to school late. No, I did
not like the man.
Maximus: “I greet you all.” He said, walking to
the centre of the room.
Aunty Ebube trailed behind him silent. She was
beautiful; very fair skin, long hair and very tall.
She does not talk, as long as Uncle Maximus
is there but the few times she came alone, she
talked and cried too. Aunty Ebube is always
crying about my uncle. She usually gave me
sweets whenever they came to our home. I
heard Papa and Mama talking about them one
night. Mama said that Uncle Maximus beats
her and cheats on her anytime he gets the
chance. Papa said that it was because she is
Ibo; any Itsekiri woman won’t allow it. Mama
had replied that it is not that; she had insisted
that it is because he is a man and a brute at
that. Men are all cheats, she had said. Papa
had not replied her. I later heard the front door
bang as he stepped out. I didn’t go to her but I
heard Mama in her room crying until he
returned. When their bed started creaking in a
rhythm I had come to know, I closed my eyes
and went to sleep smiling; everything would be
fine.
The memory fled my mind as I gazed at my
uncle shaking hands with the men around the
room, and staring into the cleavages of the
women as he slowly walked his way to where
Mama sat. He stared at her for some time,
then he squatted in front of her.
Maximus: “I am sorry, Matilda. I know how you
feel, I can’t imagine life without Ebube. I want
you to know that I will do everything in my
power to make sure, you never cry again. It is
alright, I am here now, I will take care of
everything.” He said.
I could not see his face or Mama’s own but I
heard her sobs increase and I saw her hands
surround his waist. I frowned; Papa does not
like Mama sitting near men and she was
hugging him… “She better Pray papa does not
come to find them together like that.” I thought
to myself as I gazed at the scene.
Uncle Maximus stood up and turned to the
people gathered in the sitting room. He
adjusted his French suit which was wrinkled
and had a wet patch in the front. Mama’s tears
had wet the suit but he seemed unconcerned.
He cleared his throat;
Maximus: “my brother Georgie is dead. I
cannot bring him back and my tears cannot
bring him back. He has left a family behind and
financial responsibilities which needs to be
attended to.” He paused and licked his lips.
His eyes darted about the room as if looking
for any sign of opposition. Satisfied, he
continued; “Matilda and her daughter Princess,
will come and live with me until after the
funeral. Then the family will discuss the way
forward for my brother’s widow and daughter.”
I was staring at mother’s shocked face when
what he said suddenly hit me. “Widow and
daughter? Papa is dead!” the thought dangled in
my brain then it clicked and then I screamed
and screamed. By the time, people got to me,
I had passed out.
====
“Papa is dead.” The thought hung in my brain
like the shadow of a huge mountain. The sun
was shining but it was not touching me. The
soft breeze of afternoon shook the curtain close
to my bed but I felt nothing. I was shivering
under the shadow of the mountain; there was
pain and fear and disbelief. If you have lost
your father or your mother, you will understand
how I felt. Papa had been my sun and now
there was no day; only night.
The door opened and Uncle Maximus walked in
and stood before my bed. He looked at me
with a smile and a gleam in his eyes
Maximus: “you are up. That is good. You will
feel fine in no time. We are going to my place
tomorrow. You be a good girl now.” He said,
rubbing my head with his hand.
The action irritated me, so I pushed his hand
off. The smile fell from his face for a fleeting
second and murder glinted in his eyes.
Maximus:”listen, girl; I am all that you and your
mother have between a good life and starvation
in the streets. If you had no respect for me
before, you better find it if you intend to live in
my house and eat my food. Do you understand
me?” he asked, spitting out the words between
gritted teeth.
Princess: “Mama said that you beat Aunty
Ebube; I will not stay with a wicked man like
you.” I replied, smug with all the confidence of
childhood. I have never learnt to keep my
opinions to myself.
The slap rocked me from my head to my toes.
I held my face and burst into tears. He
shushed me with his index finger on his lips. I
held my sobs within me in fear; my face
burning with pain. Papa had never raised his
hand on me in my life, never. I struggled with
the pain, then gulped my tears and dried my
eyes; my mind already plotting my revenge.
But he was not done.
Maximus: “I am taking your mother as a
second wife, so you better behave or I will
teach you a lesson, you will never forget.” He
whispered, bending over me.
My mouth hung open as he opened the door
and stepped out, closing it behind him. “Mama
as second wife? To uncle Maximus that beats
his wife? No! Not my mother! Never!” I thought
to myself as I burst into tears.
Question: Do you see uncle Maximus; I bet he
reminds you of someone in your family, on your
street, in your church or mosque? Can you
guess at the man’s intentions? Do you think
Princess will be able to stop him from taking
her mother as wife?