In life, there are moments that some have termed defining
moments. Others have called such moments (more accurately, perhaps), moments of
impact. Moments, when certain forces within the confines of one’s life seem to
collide, resulting in an impact that changes everything forever. Each of these
forces, such as events, experiences, or emotions in themselves may be nothing
out of the ordinary but when put together, and at the right moment, their
combined effect reverberate throughout the figurative cocoon that is a person’s
life. It is as though somebody somewhere had masterfully, with uncanny
precision, arranged these ordinary, everyday phenomena knowing full well that
their combination would result in a defining moment.
Back in her
comfortable self-contained apartment, Peju lay on her back, staring bleakly at
the ceiling. The words of Mr. Dotun, Dr. Ehime’s Masters’ student, echoed
through her mind. She was so depressed. Why? She had no idea. It wasn’t the
first time she had been preached to. She smiled wryly as she recalled how many
Christian Sisters had come to her each with a different version of how much God
was going to punish her for her lifestyle. The Brothers, on the other hand,
avoided her like a plague, although she had seen looks not unlike Dumebi’s in
some of their eyes during a few unguarded moments. Turning over to her side,
she stared at the wall. Long forgotten tears welled up in her eyes. It was as
though Mr. Dotun had known what was going on in her life. How despondent and
tired of her life she had become. Maybe it was the fact that she had grown weary
of Dumebi, or that Dumebi had not used a condom in awhile and she was afraid
she was pregnant again, or that she would soon be graduating and she had no
idea where her life was headed. It was as though a dark cloud had settled over
her mind in the last few days, driving her further and further into a black
hole of depression, so much so that she’d had to start stealing some of
Dumebi’s weed to stay sane, or so she told herself.
Head throbbing,
Peju rose shakily from the bed and reached for the packet of panadol on the
small table. She popped two in her mouth, absently wondering what throwing the
entire packet into her mouth would do to her. She grunted and threw the packet
down, her conversation with Mr. Dotun stubbornly clinging to her mind like
those Chadian children at the market. Her aching heart begged to respond to the
compassion she’d seen in his eyes and pour out her heart. She hadn’t had a real
friend in years, God knew. Leaning against the table, she chewed the panadol
absently, the bitter taste giving her a momentary distraction from the present.
But not for long. Her mind soon began to wander again. The one thing she had
been able to hold on to over the years was herself. She could give her body to whosoever
desired it and could pay for its upkeep, but she had learnt how to hold on to her
soul. She’d come to discover that odd as it may seem, one gave up one’s soul by
words. The moment you express a part of your heart in words, you’ve given up a
part of your soul…allowing access to the inner you. The problem was what the
other person was going to do with that part of you. So she’d learnt to protect
her soul by cynicism and dry humor, never saying anything she truly meant and
never showing what emotion she truly felt. As she climbed wearily back to bed,
she remembered Peter. Her secondary school boyfriend and the one guy she’d opened
her heart to because she thought she was in love with him. He had been the
second murderer of her body.
Sighing heavily,
she tried to sleep. She had been and would always be Peju. The ashewo. The now
familiar darkness was closing in again and beads of sweat formed on her
forehead. She sank deeper into the black hole of depression as images flooded
her mind…images of her past, of the bloodied towels each time Dr. K did his
work on her womb, images of death, of rat poison, of panadol overdose. Gasping for
breath, she reached out to the small box beneath the table and rummaged
feverishly till she found what she was looking for. Ten long minutes later,
enveloped by choking fumes, she curled into a ball on her bed, and floated into
delirium. But somewhere in the drug-induced haze, deep down in her
subconscious, was the knowledge that something or Someone was calling her. And
she was tired of running.
... to be continued
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