Purple Hibiscus Journal

Entry #5

As we walk through the desolate prison halls, my mind wanders to the innocent look on my son's face before I dragged him into this, before I put him in prison. The guard leads us to a small room that contains nothing but a table and benches. "One hour," he mutters before leaving. I sit on the opposite side of the same bench as Kambili. I set the jollof rice and chicken out, accompanied by a set of china that I know Jaja won't use. "Did we bring the knives?" I ask Kambili as I finish setting a proper table. "Mama, Jaja doesn't need knives. He doesn't cut the meat, he just eats it." She says, gently touching my arm.

When Jaja walks into the room, the very first thing I notice are his vacant eyes. Not the filthy clothes and scabs, but the eyes. He walks towards the table and I desperately want to grab him in a tight, loving embrace even though I know he doesn't like it. "Mama, good afternoon. Kambili, ke kwanu?" He says, sitting down to eat the rice and chicken. I can't help but tremble at the sight of him. He looks vastly different.

When Kambili tells him he'll be coming home, I could sense the disbelief radiating off of him. Everything goes silent. Nobody spoke until the guard returned to take Jaja back. As Kambili and I walk out of the room, she turns to me and says, "We should go to Nsukka when Jaja comes out." I shrug and stay silent. As we approach the car, I turn to Kambili and say, "Thank you, nne."