Remember the first time I prayed? I was 12, they taught us at the church down our street that Aunty Romoke’s husband made us go every Sunday that you are always with us, that was why I prayed that night; but they lied. If not, why didn’t you see what happened that night and every other night afterwards. It was the night Uncle Abdulwaheed came home drunk. He said he wasn’t drunk the next morning though that he really just had affection for me. I didn’t believe him, I didn’t smell alcohol on him, I didn’t even know what alcohol smelled like but I just felt like he couldn’t have been in his right senses to have climbed on top of me like that and force himself into me despite my screaming.
I prayed the minute he climbed on top of me that he stumbled suddenly and died so that Aunty Romoke would meet him there when she came back from Ibadan where she spent the weekend at her friend’s party and find out he wasn’t the almighty brother Samuel, that’s what they call him in church, the religionist who complained bitterly about how everyone who didn’t believe Jesus was the son of God would go to hell. But you didn’t listen to me, or maybe you weren’t there. He was supposed to be a man of God, maybe thats why you let him inflict that kind of pain on me because he didn’t fall and after that night nothing was the same. I was broken.
Aunty Romoke was married to Uncle Abdul, who later became Samuel, brother Samuel after converting to Christianity. Aunty Romoke remained a muslim and didn’t go to church with us until much later because she based her argument on the statement that “GOD IS NOT HUMAN, HE’S NOT MARRIED SO HE DOESN’T HAVE A SON” I never understood both of them but I agreed more with Aunty Romoke. It wasnt logical to say that the almighty God had a son.. though I didn’t understand why women had to cover our whole body because we didn’t want someone else to commit sin through us, I didn’t understand that at all. I still don’t. Uncle Abdul always claimed she didn’t understand because she didn’t believe.
So do you really have a son? Or somebody told history wrong?
Aunty Romoke is my father’s sister’s daughter meaning she was supposed to be my cousin but she was much older because her mother was much older than my father. My father died when I was 6, I heard he was a bricklayer who died on a building site he was working on. So I never really knew my father but I know he called me sekinat and not funmi. My mother. She’s dead too. To me.
Back then, Every time I annoy Aunty Romoke like when I broke a plate or when I burnt the fried rice she asked me to watch while I was also washing her clothes outside she never seized the opportunity to remind me of how wicked my mother was and that she ruined my father and caused his downfall yet left him and when all was bad for him. She called her different names every now and then. An adulterous wife. A materialistic woman. A useless fellow.
Maybe that’s why when uncle abdul told me he was in love with me when I was 15, I believed him. He usually talked to me kindly and treated me well unlike Aunty Romoke, my own cousin. He paid my school fees every term without complaining even when Aunty Romoke complained that the school fee was becoming too expensive for someone that was not their child. Lets just do our own for God, Uncle Abdul would say.
Meanwhile the visits to my room didn’t stop, at the beginning it felt wrong but eventually I came to love him, or so I thought. I didn’t even mind getting married to him, even if it meant becoming a second wife. He told me he loved me but couldn’t leave Aunty Romoke just like that. “moreover, the bible cautions against 2 wives for a Christian man” he told me one day. I was ready to kill Aunty Romoke if that was what it meant. There were times when I thought of strangling Aunty Romoke in her sleep. Lol I poured izal in her tea one day. Another day I poured nail remover in the water I used to boil her rice and made sure Uncle Abdul didn’t eat out of it, another time I mixed rat poison with her beans. But she didn’t die.
Aunty Romoke and Uncle Abdul now have a church and a charity home. they’re hypocrites though, because Aunty Romoke still looks at me with hate and Uncle Abdul still has lust in his eyes.. Later I realized Aunty Romoke didn’t have a womb anymore and that was why she didn’t have children of her own. Maybe all the things I gave her destroyed her or maybe you are just punishing them.. Well I am not sorry; they deserve it, i aborted 3 times for Uncle Abdul aka Brother (now pastor) Samuel.. those could have been beautiful baby boys.
Don’t even tell me people change.
I Just want to know why didn’t you listen to me the first day I prayed?