Penance

Just a little tenderness
At the end of the day
Is all a woman needs,
to take her fears away
Just a little tenderness
With the lights down low,
When the world is just two people,
And love is all we need to know...

She hugged her knees close to her chest, rocking herself to the rhythm as Diana King's velvet tones with a hint of patois crooned out the lyrics. It enveloped her like a blanket, wrapping its warmth around her, drawing her in, holding her close. The chill slowly dissipating as the warm tendrils of hope filtered through. She cuddled deeper, losing herself in the lyrics, the rhythm, afraid to move lest a flinch from her sets off the downward spiral. Warmth.

She needed warmth... and fire.

Without warning, the chill started again, a slight tingling in her toe, spreading slowly, until she was caught in the jitters... trembling, shivering, teeth chattering, she looked over at the home stereo, but lacked the strength to stand up and turn it off. And so, it continued to churn out its offering, which had been on constant replay since she got in, and hunkered down in the corner, struggling to escape her reality.

Just a little tenderness
At the end of the day
Is all a woman needs,
to take her fears away
Just a little tenderness
At the end of the night
When the world is just two people,
And everything's gonna be alright....

"Gawd", she moaned as the sobs started.

From a place deep within her, it began to well up and spill out, it overflowed, it ran wild and loose... and free! She clutched her hair and yowled. She screamed and tore at her clothes, possessing a strength she knew not where from, she ripped the clothes off her body, sank her nails deep into her flesh and pulled. As the skin stung her, she scratched some more, feeling the deep welts begin to swell and raise like cornrows on a little girl's head. She felt the pain each new ridge left in her body and yet, she sought out the most painful spots and dug in with more determination. Perhaps, if she could scourge her body, her restless spirit, her weary soul would be purged... And still she yowled, and screamed.

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Emeka, arm around his wife as she snuggled up to him, stilled.

He held out the remote control and turned down the volume of the television. Nky looked up at him, worried, as they both listened to the sounds coming from the flat just beside them. Semi detached they called the houses, but they could easily be flatmates as it took a lot of willpower to pretend not to hear the sounds coming from there.

The yowls, the screams, decipherable in their nature, but muffled by the thin wall separating them could easily be coming from their room and could mean only one thing: she was walking THAT path again, fighting her demons.

"Honey", Nky started but was shushed by her husband.

"Baby, I have told you times without number, to ignore the sounds coming from that flat. You have seen the way that girl lives her life, flitting from man to man as if the thing wan expire. Leave her to do penance for her sins and stop trying to get involved".

"But Honey, here we are, we have lived beside her for almost a year now and we do not even know her name. Perhaps she needs company, is lonely, needs a shoulder to cry on. How can we profess to be christians when we live next door to such a tortured soul. Biko, baby m, let me go and..."

"If you move a step from here, please continue walking from there. Keep walking until you get to your parents' house. I have told you I do not want us to get involved but if you want to act like you own yourself, who am I to stop you"?

With a deep sigh, she laid her head back on his shoulder and listened as the howling continued. As a tear trickled down from her eye, Emeka lifted up her head and looked deep into her eyes. He planted a kiss on her forehead,

"Baby, I know how you feel, but some demons are best left to be fought personally. This could be her karma, her penance. We cannot, must not get involved. Don't worry, I have already commenced the search for another apartment. Soon as our rent expires, we will move. We can NOT continue to live like this". As he bent his head down and planted his lips on hers, she knew, deep inside she knew... she hated him.

He returned to his football match on the telly, she placed her head back on his chest and let her mind wander...

There but for the grace of God, would have been her. Emeka never knew the details of her past, the secrets she kept away from everybody, sometimes perhaps, even from herself. He believed that she had had only two longstanding relationships before he met her, because she had carefully edited out the days of longing and yearning. The days of compromise and ill thought out relationships, all in a bid to find love. She laughed a bit as she remembered involving herself in a threesome with her boyfriend of the day then, striving hard to please. To show him she could be all he ever needed in a woman and more. Little did she know that while she bent over backwards to please him, he was planning a wedding to a peri-virginal undergraduate and had in fact rented and was furnishing, a 2 bedroom flat elsewhere. The days of jumping from relationship to relationship. Seeking commitment where there was none to be found, until she had a chance encounter at a filling station, and met him.

Instinct had nudged her to clean up her act and she had, playing faithfully along until the validating proposal, 6 months into the relationship. The marriage and wedding formalities 3 months after, and five years and three kids down the line, she relived her unshared past, exhumed her unexorcised ghosts, retreated into her unwelcoming darkness, as she listened to her unknown neighbor do "penance".

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Cold, cold di world so cold
Mi waash someone to have and to hold
Ina di nite, when di feelings a bite
Hug mi up, squeeze mi up mek mi feel right
Forget di problems, everybody have dem
Tonight mi just naah feature dem
I, just wanna lay with you,
And be an island in this sea of confusion...

She stilled. The only sign that there was still a little life left in her, the shallow rise and fall of her chest. She had just ridden the storm, a wild whooping ride through the thickest jungle on the back of the fiercest tiger, yet she knew, her demons were unforgiving, they were relentless. From the deepest dungeons in hell, they sought out their victim, dug their claws in and rode like a breeding stallion.

She shivered. Tremors of exhaustion shook her frame as she lay face down. Before she left the house today, she had known today would be the day she would kill or be killed, eat or be eaten...

Three months... her relationships, her life could be defined by those two words... three months.

She had always struggled to push beyond the three month mark, but wanderlust always began to creep in, a yearn for treasures so deep buried, even she was unsure as she searched, that they could ever be found and unearthed. A longing, a craving to sate a hunger so primal, she was convinced the sating would leave an even worse emptiness. Here today, gone tomorrow. The fear of loneliness pushed her into relationships, the fear of rejection forced her out of them and at the end of each, she would struggle to exorcise her demons, promising herself that each one would be the last. Would be the one to last...

And she had exceeded the three month mark this time around, when her restless feet began to itch to move on, she had immersed herself in mundane activities which unknown to her, had endeared her even closer to him. She would wash and clean, fuss and fret, tidy and pick up. From coming home everyday to a lonely apartment, he would walk into a fresh and clean space, hot meals at the ready, her luscious body responding at a moment's notice, excellent conversation that could keep going for hours. She ran her own businesses, had people who worked for her and so, could take out time to care, and care she did.

Tim could not believe his luck at landing her. Built like a goddess, he had paid for her suya when they met at a crowded joint in Abuja. Well actually, he had mistakenly paid for hers, they still giggled at the quirky twist of fate that arranged their meeting. She had seemed a bit distracted, he had been watching her, but somehow, she seemed at the same time lost deep in a world of her own. His tally had been called and then hers. They walked up to the counter to pick up their orders and he had settled his bill without thinking.

As he stepped out, he heard someone call out "Excuse me please".

He turned and saw the goddess holding out a thousand naira note. "Sorry", she tinkled, "the silly boy at the counter thought we were together and had added my tab to yours".

He reached out, and enveloped her hand in his, squeezing the palm shut over the money. She had a cool, little palm, soft and welcoming. He wanted to hold on to her forever, he did not know why, but he felt at ease with this palm...

"Don't worry, I did not notice. It's nothing, I had already paid for it, so you can have it".

"Thank you". She turned and picked out a table in the attached sit-out, and settled down to unwrap her barbecue, pulling a bottle of coke out of her bag.

Immediately, he reversed the decision to make a meal out of his when he got home, suya sandwich had always been the lazy bachelor's go to food, and walked up to her. She had looked up, accepted his request to sit at the table with her and from there, they had stuck up a friendship that quickly, led to romance and a budding relationship.

Earlier on in the day, as she left her house, she knew the demons were winning. A relationship that had no issues whatsoever was about to be brought to a screeching halt.

She had made his favorite meal. Walking through the door, the aroma of fresh egusi soup picked his senses up and body slammed them against the floor. Her egusi was Olympic gold medal worthy and as he walked to the table and lifted the covers off the dishes, he could tell at a glance that this was not the floured pounded yam thingie, but the real deal. Still standing, he rinsed his finger tips in water, cut off a bit of pounded yam and ate it raw. Then cut off a lump and as he dipped it into the soup, snaring a piece of dried fish alongside, she walked out of the kitchen and playfully hit him with the dishcloth in her hand...

"Boo, na you get the food na. Why you dey rush am, dey sneak am like say e get who dey drag am with you"?

This was something else that popped his innards like popcorn. Her ability to switch from the most polished of Queen's English to ghetto waffi and back at a moment's notice, always had his stomach pay a brief visit to his knees and back again.

He grinned, swallowed the lump in his hand, licked off his fingers and walked up to her. He could feel her naked body underneath the tee shirt she wore as he gathered her into his arms. This was the life! This was what he had always wanted! These were his dreams come true...

He returned to the table and settled down to his meal, rushing slightly, not even looking up as she dropped a kiss on his forehead and sashayed off to the bedroom. He needed to get this feast over and done with and move on to the feast in the bedroom. She was like illicit drug in his veins, he could never get enough...

Hours later, sated and spent, he lay back exhausted and cuddled her close. He sensed a little tenseness in her, but knew she would relax and he stroked and patted her back as he began to slip into sleep. Somewhere in his subconscious was the strident warning to ask her, to talk, ease whatever was making her so tense, but sleep gripped him in its iron claws and did not let go until he succumbed.

She lay still and tense in his arms, listening to his ragged breathing slowly even out. As he found a rhythm, she carefully crept out of his arms, stood up and began to dress up. If she stayed over the night, she knew she would stay forever, but she did not want that. She craved stability and at the same time pushed back at it when it came calling. Yearned for a routine yet ran from any semblance of a settling in. She would keep running, she knew.... run Lola, run!

Returning back home, she had flung her car keys on the ground, hit play and set the stereo on repeat, walked around the sitting room in circles, pausing now to hit her palm against her head, struggling with the decision to go back or to remain in her house. When the decisions running around in her head suddenly turned to a stampede, she had thrown herself, hunched up into a corner, and wailed as Diana King crooned in the background.

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Mummy Tinu let the curtains she had held aside to try and peep into the flat across from hers fall. O to have xray vision, to be able to see through her windows, the curtain of darkness, past the windows across from her and the thick drapes, into the sitting room and perhaps pierce through to the very soul of the young lady in that flat.

"Abiku", she hissed. She must have escaped an early death and now plays regular host to the spirits she had long denied if not, why would such a beautiful, apparently succesful young lady have such devilish incidences? This one pass power o. She shrugged her shoulders, whirled her hands around her head and snapped her fingers in the direction of the flat. Moving was not an option. Left alone by her useless husband who had run after the nurse in the neighborhood hospital, abandoning her to take care of their three children, the flat was within a comfortable price range and near enough to the children's school, and the market where she sold provisions and foodstuff.

Since moving was not an option, she had retreated deep into the arms of her faith, to shield herself and her household from any marauding demons that could be unleashed from the legion that occupied that flat opposite hers. It was not her portion. She and her children would never fall victims to what they knew nothing about. In one corner of her sitting room was a mini altar, draped with a rosary and daily devotionals from as many Men of God as she could lay her hands on. Hidden under the cloth on the altar, was a bottle containing the murky waters washed off a slate by the neighborhood alfa and underneath the bed in her room, was the double protection her mother had brought from the village high priest the last time she had come visiting.

"Atinuke, Atinuuuuuuke",

"Yes Mummy", her 14 year old daughter had answered from the bedroom

"Call Sijibomi and Jomiloju, let us have our night prayers"

They knelt down and closed their ears to the storm raging in the apartment across from them as Mummy Tinu went into one of her long, windy and winded prayer sessions. Since tonight was an attack night for their neighbor, it was obvious that the gates of hell had been thrown open and the witches, wizards and blood sucking demons were on patrol. The only guard against them, was prayer... and pray she did.

Ignoring the fidgeting and fussing of her children, even when Sijibomi began to nod, his head repeatedly hitting the table in front of which they knelt, and then getting snatched back up again. When Atinuke's "Amens" reduced in fervency and began to come reluctantly and when Jomiloju's light snores began to vibrate and increase in intensity, still she prayed...

Where Atinuke knelt, her mind wandered into the flat opposite. Aunty was a nice lady who listened to her and talked to her like an adult. She helped her with her homework sometimes and was the only person she had turned to when she had encountered her young life's worst challenge. She did not know who had reported her closeness with Aunty to her mother but that day, her mother had called her into her room, locked the door behind her and threatened to kill her if she made a noise. She had then proceeded to pull out the horsewhip from underneath the bed and had lashed her furiously with it.

Forgetting that she had sworn her daughter to silence, she Mummy Tinu had screeched about how her daughter wanted to bring disgrace to the family name. Wanted to be possessed with demons, wanted to be a wayward girl... and this and that... and this and that.

For a few days after the scourging, she had avoided Aunty's flat until she had felt the darkness enveloping her and had sneaked in there when Maami had gone off to the shop. She could always find comfort and a listening ear in Aunty who, aside from the times when she was possessed, was a very gentle and understanding being.

She was the only one who believed her about Gbolahan.

Gbolahan was her uncle. Her maternal grandfather like her own father, had a thing for nurses in rural hospitals and so, had abandoned his first family to go start another family with the nurse that had recently been transferred from Umuahia Specialist. Gbolahan was the third irresponsible fruit of that union and had come to Abuja to sit his JAMB. Having written, and failed JAMB umpteen times in the past, this was an attempt to try the exam for the last time at another location and see if he would fare better this time around. His father had threatened that if he failed JAMB, he would apprentice him out to the village furniture maker.

And so, Gbolahan found himself in Abuja and was enrolled in extra murals. That fateful afternoon, Maami was away at the market as usual and Tinu had fed her younger ones. Homework done, they were already taking their afternoon nap when she heard Gbolahan's creaky voice squealing her name. "Tinu, Tinu", the voice had a measure of urgency and she had run into the boys' room.

In a flash, he had locked the door, grabbed her and wrestled her to the ground. Before she could contemplate screaming, still struggling to understand what was going on, he had forced her knees apart, positioned himself in between her thighs, pushing her panties aside with one hand. The first scream escaped her lips as he pierced her and then one hand holding her hands together above her head, the other clamped shut over her mouth, he humped himself out in her. The hand remained over her mouth, the body remained over hers as she screamed futilely and struggled. Eventually, when the strength began to leave her and her silent scream died out, her body weakening, he shifted a little and lifted his hand off her mouth.

She could not scream, only stared at him, eyes wide in terror as he pleaded with her, smoothed her hairline, forced his mouth on hers and his slimy tongue down her throat. She could not understand what was going on, but began to comprehend from his words that this was a secret, their secret. He would do a lot of good things for her. He would take her abroad when he passed his JAMB and got admission into a university in America. He would buy her lots of icecream and she could perm her hair. He would get her a nanny to take care of her every need. Look, he would buy her sweets and biscuits from the corner shop down the road, and ribbons to tie up her lovely hair. He talked and talked and talked and slowly, her child's mind, uncomprehending of the sacrilege that had just occured began to listen and the second time around, he took her like a woman.

Three days after, Gbolahan wrote his JAMB and disappeared from her life. Aunty had seen her moping at the tap one week later, the bucket of water she was fetching filled to overflowing, spilling over and pooling around her feet. Aunty had switched off the tap and touched her shoulder, a touch that had triggered off a flood of tears and when Aunty took her into her flat to calm her down, had managed to coax the story of what could be troubling this little girl so much out of her. Her story told, Aunty had calmed her down, offering her soft drinks and biscuits, then asked for the address of Maami's shop.

She would never know what happened that day but Maami had returned from the shop in a rage, dragged her into her bedroom, locked the door behind her and after the usual threats if she so much as uttered a peep, proceeded to thrash her, all the while screaming and screeching all sorts of invectives at the top of her voice... How she was a useless girl, wayward like her father. How she wanted to spoil the family name and bring shame on them. How she was associating with prostitutes and people of questionable character. How she was helping her by flogging her now so that she would not be a disgrace to herself in the future. How the bible said foolishness was in the heart of a child, but the rod and reproof would drive it far from her... and this and that ... and this and that.

Only Aunty had believed her.

And told her her own story.

Of how she was also wrongfully used as a little girl. For three months of her life, her own father "loved" her more than her siblings, until one morning, he stopped loving her and walked out on them, till date she had not set eyes on him.

"In Jeeeeeeeeezes name we have prayed", Maami rounded off the prayer session, the call jolting Tinu back to the present.

"Aaaaaaaamen". She stood up, rubbed her hands across her face, roused her siblings and walked them in that somnambulent state, to bed.

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Everybody´s got an idea
Of what's right, what's right for me
I'm just tryin' to survive and
Live my life positively
This one wants to educate me
That one wants to dominate me
The other one tryin' to wear me down
Talkin' outta both sides of the mouth, oh
I, just wanna lay with you, And be an island in this sea of confusion

She dragged herself off the floor and stood shakily up. Her feet wobbled and trembled from the force that had passed through her, but she was determined to stand and remain up now.

She walked shakily over to the stereo and stood in front of it... I, just wanna lay with you... and be an island in this sea of confusion.

"Timone", she groaned.... "Timone".

She had laughingly asked him that first day, "So, what should I call you"?

"Oh, Timothy, Tim, Ebi, worreva..."

"I think I prefer 'worreva'"

He had thrown his head back and laughed at her crazy sense of humour. Just thirty minutes sitting with her and it seemed like he had known her a life time.

"Don't even think about it".

"Okay, I kinda like Timone in the Lion King, so you will be Timone".

"Okay miLady".

And he had been Timone to her since then. An anchor. A rock. An oasis... an island.

She walked into her room and straight into the shower. The cold water stung as it hit her lacerated skin, stinging like the piercing of so many needles, yet she withstood it. She walked out of the bathroom, struggled into her underclothes and threw a slip of a dress over her head. She glanced at the clock beside the bed... it was 4 am.

She would go back.

She was at a crossroads and today would decide, if she would keep running, or if she would hang up her running shoes.

She would bare it all, try to find that Island, reach out for the anchor, hide under the rock, quench her thirst at the oasis...

Win or lose, today, she would fight her demons one last time.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIWMLuGsGYQ