Chapter one

As the nurses wheeled my mum's insensate body; if only that describes the state of her body, in death to God knows where, well I guess the morgue, I wept uncontrollably. The anguish was just too much to bear.

Seeing the stoical expression on her face, realizing that I wasn't going to see that beautiful lush smile on her now expressionless face tugged a spot in my heart causing bitter tears to run down my face.

Minutes after wheeling her away, I half slouched, half sat down on the creaking wooden chair in the improvised reception of the local hospital.

The night yanked the horizon over the sun, silencing the world outside. Zoning out of my present state, I studied the environment I was in. I couldn't help but notice the almost dilapidated state of the so called hospital. The almost faded white, probably brown colour, of the uniform the nurses wore. The hospital was in a really bad state. It lacked equipment hospitals were supposed to have; like the ones I had seen in worn out books my school could boast of. No wonder they couldn't save my dear mother's life.

Instantly, I remembered my current situation; I was now an orphan, having lost my dad before I was even birthed into this cold world.

Why me? Questions kept phrasing themselves in my mind. How was I going to live now? I had nobody left. My confidant was gone. My counsellor. My ever vibrant mum.

"Oh no! Why me? Why does it have to be me?" I sobbed remembering the nature of death that took my mum.

If only there was a standard hospital in my village that could have cured her of the cancer. If only we had the money to at least send her to a better hospital in Lagos, maybe the doctors there could have saved her life.

Last year, precisely six months before now, mum had informed me over dinner that she had cancer. My naive self didn't take it seriously. Never did I think it was a terminal disease. I recall her telling me she was going to be alright, if only she presently was.

Months later, she started losing weight; she was so lean even the bamboo cane she rarely used to correct my childish brain was fatter than she was. She was also gradually losing hair and looked like an ayamantaga.

I was getting frightened. She couldn't even talk audibly. I had to beg a neighbour of ours who took pity on me and helped me carry her to the local hospital I sat in now. The nurses put her on a creaky bed and cycled her to the room where she died. I remember the pale look on her face, how she struggled for breath. It was traumatizing.

Her last words to me were:

"Always remember who you are. You are braver than you think, more talented than you know, you are a child of purpose. Know that I will always be with you, even in death. Don't forget your promise to become a neurosurgeon; I have sacrificed a lot to help you become who you want to be, but the cold hand of death did not give me the opportunity to see you actualize your dream. But nevertheless, I trust you to make me proud.''

She ended with a rib cracking cough. I rushed to get her water which she gulped down at once; for the first time in weeks.

She smiled at me and all of a sudden started gasping for breath. My scream was what brought two of the nurses to the room.

One of them dragged me out while the other covered mum's already cold body. Annoyingly, her face still wore that smile.

That night, I felt sad, dejected, numb and angry. I thought she said she loved me. Why then did she have to die? Even if she died, why didn't she take me with her?

I knew I was callous for thinking this way but I was hurt, I was alone, I was now an orphan, ignorant of what the world had in store for me.

''She don die now at last we go hear word.''

I felt like slapping this foolish gossip monger of a neighbour I had.

''So you were wishing her death abi?'' I retorted. I didn't even realise I said that but the anger at what she said got me.

''Shameless child, good for nothing idiot, let's see how she will live now,'' she kept rambling.

Mama Chinosom is the compound mobile CNN. She carries the latest gist around and I think she has a dictionary of insults because this woman can insult the living daylight of a person.

I had come home to freshen up and go back to collect my mum's body from the morgue.

Where do I bury her? I wondered. We live in a rented apartment in the ghettos of Ajegunle. We don't have a house of our own talk more of having a burial place.

Knock! Knock!! Knock!!! The sound at the door jolsted me back to earth. 

''Who is at the door?'' I shouted.

''Landlady," was the curt but brassy reply I got.

I scrambled from the creaking chair and rushed to the door. The landlady was a no nonsense yoruba woman and as that implies, she doesn't take trash.

''Good eve...ning ma,'' I stuttered. The look she gave me could've scared a lion.

I remembered she promised to come back on Thursday to collect the rent we were owing.

But the day after tomorrow is Thursday na, I thought.

''Your mother thinks she can die and not pay me, right? She thinks she is smart. Well that's none of my business. If you cannot provide my house rent, I promise to be back in a week time to throw out your luggages. That is, if you even have any."

Without giving me as much as a backward glance, she hissed and left me alone with the witch of a woman Mama Chinonso who just kept clapping her hands and giving me pitiful looks like she cared. I wonder what she was doing here.

If she is not here, how do you expect her to gist the other tenants that are not at home.

Shutting the door securely, I set out to the hospital.

''Do I look dumb to you? Are you drunk?Where in God's name do you want to take a dead body to?'' the doctor stated, looking at me like I had grown two heads. ''So you are telling me you have nobody. Not even an aunt, uncle or maybe a pastor?'' he continued.

At the mention of 'pastor,' I remembered someone from the church mum and I attended before she fell sick.

''Excuse me sir, I'll be right back.''

______________________________________

''Welcome, my daughter. How do you do? And how is your mum?"

''She died last night sir, and that is why I am here,'' I replied.

''Oh my God!! This can't be!! Oh no!! Not Sister Romoke,'' he kept rambling.

Oga you had better stop this show and let's go carry my mum's dead body.

Minutes later, we were in his car on our way to pick up the body. He had said, much to my relief, that the church had a public cemetery where she could be buried.

After signing the necessary documents, we rode to the cemetery to bury my beloved mum.

I wonder how they did it but, in two hours, her body had been washed, her hair braided and she was dressed in a white satin dress. The coffin was hurriedly constructed and in thirty minutes, my mum was laid to rest.

Nobody except myself, the pastor, his wife and two elders from the church were present.

Amidst tears and grief, I paid my last homage to her.

Ayamatanga: an  insult almost like a slang disputing someone so lean, malnourished and ugly

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Don't forget to hit the orange star, and drop nice comments.

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Celeb