CHINA TORI

This morning my heart is heavy: I’m not sure what from, but I can guess it is from the wonder at the attitude of the woman who just became a widow next door. What kind of woman will be this excited and really happy to see her husband die? What’s that tone in her voice?

Saturday morning, early momo, around 4 AM, my phone rang, it was my youngest brother and he was crying. “Daddy’s condition is getting worse and the request for tests won’t stop coming. We’ve not started treatment yet the bill is now so large I don’t know what to do. I think you should come and see things for yourself”, he said amidst tears.

So I bathed and started out to the hospital. I had wanted to make food for mom and ensure she cleaned up and got ready for the day before I left but when the second call came asking me to come immediately, I dropped everything and left.

I know I was scared and I remember crying a little, but most importantly, I was angry. I wasn’t angry that my dad was asking for me, but I was angry because I thought they were asking me to come because my mom’s people had instigated them. And why did I cry again? I was scared. I toyed with the probability that my dad had died and they were lying to get me to come.

I got to the hospital in good time and I was directed to the general ward. Anyone who had seen my face when I stepped in would have thought I was being forced to come and care for my dad, but that won’t be the truth. I was dealing with a lot mentally. My fear was tangible but topmost was my self-esteem check. I couldn’t stop wondering why my extended family members won’t stop belittling me with their words and actions.

The hospital hadn’t changed much and finding my way around, as usual, was a chore. If one is not careful or quick to ask for help, one would walk in circles for hours. It is a big hospital located in the heart of the city with tariff rates that could bankrupt an average Nigerian. Formerly a government hospital for the general public, it is now private owned.

My dad was in the second cubicle on the right in the general ward and that was a relief. It meant that I didn’t have to greet many people before I get to my destination. Some of this ailing people made sure they make you know that they didn’t need your sympathy. You would greet and they would sneer or at best, ignore you. But one had to say sorry all the same or risk being considered unfeeling.

I walked briskly and went in. Papa was sleeping when I got in but he didn’t look restful. So I asked what the problem was, I was told he got into a fight with the nurses that morning and that he was very angry. He was angry that the drips and injections were doing nothing to alleviate his pain. So he told them to stop giving him the medicines. He walked them out amidst their pleas and shut them out by turning to face the wall.

Was I relieved to see him alive? Yes! And my relief was visible. I couldn’t hide it. I went out to blow off some steam and to whisper thanks to the Heavens. My dad had scared the shit out of me and the dream he said he had had earlier that day didn’t make it easier.

My walk around the hospital was short and I was back to the cubicle in time to see him wake. He woke up and was happy to see me. Then he reported himself and reported the nurses. His voice was a bit loud yet surprisingly calm and that made me smile. I know my papa, something’s up.

Why was he seeking attention with his loud voice, I wondered. Maybe he was already regretting what he said. I wasn’t wrong. The nurses chose to pay him back after his outburst and so they avoided him. The morning was almost gone and no one had come tend to him. He needed them to know he was really sorry. Plus, he needed his dose of painkillers.

I was taking all of it in and beginning to settle into care giving when the woman next-cubicle started her outburst. She was screaming at the sick person she was tending to who turned out to be her husband and at her husband’s sister.

“I know none of you appreciate what I’m doing but the good news is that I don’t care.” She turned to the other woman and continued screaming, “my husband does not appreciate anything I do for him and you know. So don’t come and tell me what to do and what not to do for him. Aunty, please move.”

But that was only the beginning. Before long, I started noticing something off about her behavior. She would complain about everything, especially money that is being spent, be hostile and aggressive to the sick man and question his every plea for help, yet shed serious tears about her husband’s condition when church members and other people come to visit.

“I want to stand up” he begged once, “my back hurts badly.” And the woman was quick to shun him.

“Stand up to do what? My friend, the way you are lying is what is best for you. Besides, I can not carry you alone. Let’s wait for the nurse to come.”

The hostility continued and was becoming too much for me to bear that I all I wanted to do was go outside and tell her to cool it down a bit. I was struggling with understanding why she got married to the man, in the first place, if she wasn’t prepared for the lows of marriage. Why did she even marry him if she never liked him? She was sounding like they had never been any form of intimacy between the two of them.

After a while, I quietly went out to take a good look at her. The woman looked young, late 20s or maybe early 30s, and moved around with so much agility. From her spillings and incessant outbursts, I could tell she had been in the marriage for nine years and that they had three children. She was fair and very beautiful. She even had this gap in her front teeth that was deceitful as no smile ever came from it.

Was I quick to judge her? Maybe.

I woke up this morning, with serious pains in neck and back. The chair in my dad’s cubicle is a small black sit-up chair. I thought I could manage to sleep in it and that was why I turned down my dad’s suggestion to sleep on the steel three-seat reception chair outside. Truthfully, I was scared of the mosquitoes outside and I didn’t want to leave my dad alone. But around 1:25 AM today, my body could no longer take it. I woke up and started packing all the heavy clothes available to go and sleep outside.

I got out and found the door to the ward locked. Apparently, this hospital cared about their patients’ security. No hard feelings, I shoved, and started to go back. That was when I saw it.

The woman from the next cubicle was sitting outside their post and almost in the way of mine watching TV while her husband was inside gasping for air. For a second, my breath caught in my throat and I looked around frantically. Has no one noticed the man struggling on the bed? My gaze fell on the woman almost immediately and when I looked at her, I saw her looking at him. Was I shocked? No, just experiencing some momentary confusion. She was looking at him struggle to hold on to his life, yet she just sat and watched him from the corner of her eyes. She looked like she was buying time and apparently no one else noticed. When she was satisfied, she stood up and ran in.

I sighed and went in. I spread the clothes I was carrying on the semi-clean floor and made to lay down. My dad woke and handed me his second pillow and went back to sleep. I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t sleep.

While I lay there, my mind wandered. Too many questions, too many assumptions. Is there anyone who really understands this bonding of two souls and bodies called marriage? Can one ever rightly judge the choices and decisions of others in marriage based on personal experiences? Can’t say.

It seemed like forever but the woman finally called out for help. The nurses came and the chaos began. CPR, oxygen, that heart electrocution thing and calling out his name, but the man was no longer responding. They found a small pulse and held unto it for as long as they could. The theatre staff were even invited and everyone kept running about until around 2:35 AM when the tiny pulse disappeared. The man died, they packed him and wheeled him away.

It is almost dawn now and my ears are full from all the crocodile tears and lies she has been crying and spinning since his demise. She’s been calling people and professing great love for her husband and how she is going to miss him so much. She’s been asking everyone how she is going to do the parenting thing with her three girls. Like, what is going on here? I don’t get it. Are we still talking about the same man you wanted so much to die? The same one you told it was better for him die now than make you go through so much and still die?

I shook my head and turned. I needed someone to help me make sense of it all and I was going to ask my dad. I turned and there he was wide awake. He was listening too and smiling. So I gestured to him, “who is this woman? Why all these lies?” My dad beckoned on me to come closer and I did. And by the time he was done relating his findings, I was shook.

There I was saying young women, these days, were about the money, prestige and comfort that marriage provided and not in anyway prepared for the challenges that came with it. I don’t know why I chose, in the first place, to close my mind to the possibility that this woman may have been scorned and that she was now unleashing her wrath as a result.

Long story cut short: dead man was a pastor. A very promiscuous pastor who slept with anything and everything in skirt, leggings and any other female clothing you can think of. He had no regard for his wife or for the husbands of the female members of his church. He would lie with prophecies to lay with women and then scheme his way into church finances to cater for lavish lifestyle. The man was even suspected of being diabolic.

I give up. Sincerely, I don’t know what to think. Was all that enough to treat him like she did? What happened to forgiving your spouse and praying for him and giving him the kind of love that would eventually change him?

I can’t stop thinking that he may have survived if she had been a bit kinder to him. Or maybe she didn’t want him to survive. Maybe na she even do wetin kill am.

I’m shook, confused and tired. You know what, that’s it! I’m done trying to understand. Let me allow my mind rest and while I’m at it, think of which market to go and find husband. Apparently, the ones found in churches and on the pulpit are wolves in sheep clothing. Given the smallest bit of power and position of authority, these men have the tendency to become beasts.

Lastly, if this was a newspaper story, what will the headline be? Oh wait, I have a good one:

“Scorned Wife Exacts Revenge on Her Promiscuous God-fearing Husband.”

And time stamp? Well, the time now is 09:30 AM; the day of the sun that started for me since 1:25 AM. It is going to be a long one, so let me go and brush my teeth and get my dad ready for the day.

Ha! Wait o, this story has not ended yet. Baby girl is out here gisting and laughing loudly about her children and her job. No sign, whatsoever, of sorrow for the loss of her husband that virtually happened about six hours ago. I mean, the loss of a human being o.

I do what? I give up!

Image: Mufid Majnun