Maraa - Season 1 - Episode 4

Episode 5 years ago

Maraa - Season 1 - Episode 4

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I am thirty-nine years old now and our marriage would be seventeen years in three months’ time.

This news from the medical doctor would definitely spark fire when my husband comes to hear of it.

Pregnant?
After 6 children?
How did it even happen?
My husband worked with a quarry in Mararaba, near Abuja and while he lived far away, we had lived from hand to mouth.

I had presented my certificate to different educational sectors but despite my wonderful 1st class result, I had never been accepted!

Never did any of them call me back for interview- not even the budding private schools!
It was frustrating!

The only things I could do well with my hands were hairstyling, frying of chinchin and hand embroidery of clothes.

And those were the source of income for feeding the half a dozen children that I had.

The money my husband made per month was up to 50,000 but he never dropped a dime at home.
The only thing he brings back at the end of the month when he visited would not be more than Kulikuli, kilishi and masa (Corn flour cake) plus bread- sometimes!

You are ten weeks pregnant! That the doctor said was like a death sentence because, the last time my husband met with me was ten weeks ago and that was after about 2 months sexual break!
Why would pregnancy just result within that short period of time?

Why wouldn’t pregnancy visit the rich, barren wife of our Reverend in church? —probably because she is stingy!

She would come to the small stall in front of my house and start pricing my wraps of chinchin!
Uku amsin! (Three for #50)
Uku amsin!
Uku amsin!

Those were the words that come out of her mouth every time to the extent that my children had nicknamed her Mummy Uku Amsin!
Why must it be me and not her?
Not after the very stern warning from my husband that if I get pregnant again, he would throw me out.
How would I tell him?

Exactly how would I tell him that after so much period of sex starvation, the one time he met with me was in my ovulation period and that it resulted into pregnancy?
How?

As I held my purse- the house of all the money I had in the world (#4000 ) close to my chest, a car drove to my side suddenly and I outstretched my right hand, spread my palm and cursed
“Waka!” I said suddenly, very frightened
“Glory!” I heard the driver called and I knew who it was.

The only person who called me Glory was my neighbor Hasiya. Since she couldn’t pronounce Ogooluwa perfectly, I gave her the option of the English meaning- Glory!
“Hasiya, it’s you” I said, smiling faintly
“Yes it’s me. Come in” she said but she was not smiling at all.
What was the problem?
She was always smiling happily whenever she saw me but now, her face looked sad.
I turned and sat on the front seat.
“I hope there is no problem” I said, looking intently into her face.
“That would be a lie if I said so” she said as she drove off.
My heart started beating fast.
What could the problem be?
She had turned back to Kasuwa (market) side instead of going to Agwan-Biri where we lived and I wondered what was wrong.

I had the ability of maintaining my calm and dying in silence, so I was going to do same here.
I would wait till she showed me what it was!
My headache had started on a serious level!
She drove to a halt in front of one of the communication stores and she looked into my face.

She held my hands together and my anxiety heightened!

The veins at the side of my head were fighting hard to be heard and noticed.
“I saw this and I felt that if I didn’t let you see it too, it wouldn’t tell well of me” she said as she pointed at the other side of the road.
I turned to look at the direction she pointed at and lo and behold! …

It just couldn’t be true!
As my heart jumped anxiously as if to leave the cage holding it, I closed my eyes in shame and embarrassment!
“It is well Glory ko? I don’t even know what to say. Sanu….yakuri!” she begged me on, trying her utmost to console me.

The first time we spoke together was when I was seven years ago when I was in the pregnancy of my last twins and my husband kept kicking my tummy as if to put an end to the growing fetus!
She had rushed out of her gigantic mansion that midnight just to come in between the fight!
She was drawn to my beauty and that of my twins- 3 sets of twins!

She was dazed also at my spoken English and she wondered what was wrong!
Since then, whenever she had one thing or the other, she would give to me to help my children.
It was however heartbreaking that my last-born- the boy twins were seated on the ground with some ill-looking children, holding plastic plates and singing the Al-majiri song.


Al-majiri!
Al-majiri!
My own children!
Just 7 years old o!
Begging for money
I didn’t know what to do.
Was I supposed to cross the road and beat them?
Or was I supposed to turn back and go home?
Or what?


I was so stranded as to what to do!
If for real God really exists, why is this happening to me? Why has my life never been full of happiness?
Why have I always been a Mara?
Why has my portion always been bitterness?
Why?
Oh why?