Facade (Romola 1)

66: Keke Driver

All through the journey home, in different modes of transportation, Romola's mother rained curses on her. Romola struggled to keep her phlegm contained but her tears wouldn't stop flowing She buried her head in her arms as the keke driver approached their dusty derelict street. Other passengers had begged her mother to forgive her but her mother narrated a false story that painted Romola as the villain and her mother as the victim. The closer they got to their street, the harsher the insults and slaps.

"I carried you for nine months and your useless father ran away. Just look at you. Good for nothing. You just want to ruin me."

Her mother was in tears now and Romola wondered why the woman cried. Her mother was not the one receiving hits. It wasn't her life that Yetunde had hinged half lies and truth upon to form a tangled mess. It was in her mother's words that she had found a true revelation of Yetunde's character.

She stepped out of the Keke and her mother followed, still ranting, "And did you think that Idiot would protect you? Can't you see how his mother was so ready to insult us. Ah God!" Her mother snapped her fingers. 'I should have listened to my sister and aborted you. None of these would have happened."

"Ahan, mummy-" Romola croaked. Her throat ached from crying. Her voice was a broken shadow of itself but she found strength to protest.

"Ma, please forgive her." The driver handed her mother some naira notes.

"Mind your business. When you have your own children opening legs for everybody, you can forgive them."

"Mummy, that's not the truth."

"Don't you dare call me your mother. Here I am suffering, hawking bread up and down every day so that you can have a better life. You can't be my daughter. My daughter would not do what you did."

Romola felt new tears well in her eyes. With each step she took weariness claimed a part of her body and soul. She wanted the ground to open up and cover her up forever. She didn't even know her fate. Her mother had threatened her on several occasions that should she be caught with a man, her life would be over. Now, she was accused of harlotry.

They marched over the street that was contained more broken stones and dirt patches than concrete. From closely joint small bungalows, people peeked at Romola and her mother. The faded and chipping paint revealed how much attention this community paid to beauty. Little children in singlets and panties ran past Romola and her mother with a truck tyre in front. The houses that held better-to-do families were separated by the presence of small fence or malt and yellow walls. Their windows also held the same curious faces.

"Come on, will you move faster. Silly rubbish."

Romola lifted her feet and avoided stares. Dread descended as she drew closer to the turn that marked the entrance to their compound. She knew those old gossips would be seating around and she was sure they would be glad to find something to talk about. Even worse was the fact that she the person they would be glad to talk about. Her mother had warned her to avoid anything that would give those tongue something to wag about and she had successfully avoided them till now.

"You better hurry up." Her mother marched past her and Romola picked up her pace.

She didn't want to know what would happen if her mother got to the house before her. They took a small turning to an untarred road between two houses and came to an open clearing bordered by small wooden houses. There were barely any spaces between the houses. The hot air sat on the open clearing and as the foundation dripped down Romola's face, the air in front of her simmered.

She could hear the old women's laughter fade as they came into view. Three of them sat with their wooden bench in front of the very first house of the clearing.

"Hahan, Mama Romola. Kilonsele?" The oldest of the three women and the owner of all houses in the clearing, mama Nelson, got to her feet.

"Is it not this one? I sent her to school and she went to do nonsense. It would have been better if she just stopped at secondary school." Her mother pushed her aside and went to the first house on the right hand of the clearing.

"You, what did you do?" One of the other women, the one who enjoyed chewing sticks, asked.

Romola stood before them, gaze pinned to the ground as tears kept stroking her cheeks.

"Leave am. We go still hear wetin happen. Who even dash am this cloth?"

"Romola, talk so I can help you."

She shook her head. She didn't trust these women not to add fire to the oil. She took cautious steps towards the house, half expecting her mother to return with a belt but, her mother appeared with a Ghana-must-go bag. "Don't you dear step into this house."

Author's Note:

Also guys, I have something important to say. I don't know if you are Christian or if you read the bible or not but you don't even need to be a Christian to be aware of this. There might be a possible economic collapse that would affect the whole world. Several people have done videos on it and you can find it on YouTube. I'll post a link to one here and on my status. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=unOrNrmkgQk

This world is destined to end soon. The only way to get through this is to repent and put our trust in Jesus. Do not worry. Trust that God will see us through. I pray to see you all in heaven amen.