SOUR SUGAR #projectnigeria

Chapter 4

4.

        With much protest from Asabe, the once in a month visits Godwin took to our home turned into three-month vacations until he finally packed his bags and started to live with us for good. Asabe made sure that happened. She did not mind not living with us, as long as he was in his father's house, she had said.

That now gave her the right to visit our home unannounced, anytime she wanted. Her visits to me never really made any sense.

 They consisted of her just sitting on the couch, watching TV whilst she nursed a glass of orange juice she had bullied Memunah or me to get for her. Reluctantly, we would because of mama who didn't see anything wrong in her visits. Maybe in the closet, she disliked Asabe as much as we did. But because mama was such an advocate for peace, she never said a thing about it.

At first, Papa would hesitate to look into Godwin's seemingly innocent eyes as though guilt would swallow him up in one gulp. 

Papa had felt so displaced that he demanded there was a DNA paternity test conducted and that if it had come out negative, the betrayal and hurt my sisters and I felt about him would somehow vanish.

 But as Godwin got older, Papa was even more present in his life, and as absent to my sisters and I as he had been for Godwin. He would fully be responsible for his school fees; he would buy him clothes and take him out to stadium matches on Saturday afternoons. And when Godwin nonchalantly brought home his unimpressive academic results, Papa would only pat his back and tell him not to worry about it.

His actions would leave my mouth hanging open. How was it that I had come third out of my class of 20 in primary school and Papa had given me the scolding of my life for it, but then Godwin would get an uplifting message?

Papa spoilt Godwin. My sisters and I were sick of it. Mama pretended not to notice it, as if everything was normal. It made me wonder if my mother had finally lost her mind.

As a child, I would never have guessed that one of the reasons Papa did the things he did in the past was because he had always wanted a male child. All the beatings and the name calling, the infidelity and the drunkenness my mother had to endure being married to my father – all because she could not give him a male child.

And now, his long request from the heavens had been granted. Here was the son he always wanted, a love child from a one night stand from seven years ago. His dream had come true. But little did he know Godwin would slowly but steadily became my father's worst nightmare.

          Before Godwin was taken to court for stealing a car, he had done all manner of things. It seemed his rebellion had begun when he was only ten years old, stealing papa's money from the drawer in his room when he was not around. 

He would take the extra key from its bunch, and use it for when papa and mama were not at home. Even when papa reprimanded him when he began to notice small change he kept in his drawer was missing, Godwin still found a way to do something sinister.

When he was younger, we tried.

 We tried to include him in our family, we tried to love him. After all, he was our stepbrother. He was not always the notorious trouble maker he had become. He had been timid, always careful not to say the wrong thing. But along the line, as he grew older, it was as if a demon had entered him.

 He was sweet to us most of the time. He did the dishes sometimes and washed papa's car, but whenever he left for the door he would not come back unless he wreaked havoc somewhere that overshadowed the little good things he did. He listened to his mother a lot, and I was convinced she was the one egging him on to do the things he did.

 But even she did not know where his sudden rebellion had come from. They had had a fight one day that had almost gotten physical, and we began to see less from her since that incident.

Mama never one day tried to understand him. Madey and Memunah were too busy finding themselves at their different universities to care. In fact, it was as though being hours away from home meant they got to escape what was happening at home.

Godwin and I always fought. It irritated me that he did not give me the respect I deserved as his older sister. Yet, he asked for favours from me as though anything he needed in this life ought to be handed to him on a platter of gold. I wouldn't budge, anyways.

When Godwin finally entered senior secondary after we were convinced he wouldn't have because of his junior WAEC result missing of some grades due to his failure to write some of the exams, Godwin had decided to join a cult. I had always suspected it. From the way he would come back from school at 7 pm, his shirt flying like a street tout, to the friends he kept.

         Papa had gotten a call from the school authorities one day that he should come and collect his son from the police cell. He and his friends had decided to cause chaos at his school's annual cultural day celebration by throwing stones at one particular teacher's car parked at the parking lot.

 Apparently, that teacher had humiliated one of his friends by flogging him in front of the whole class for bad behaviour and sending him out afterwards and revenge had to be taken.

When Papa and Godwin returned home at 9 pm, Godwin was anything but apologetic. Papa had knelt him down in front of him, whilst he sat on a couch, rubbing his temples.

''what exactly is your problem, Godwin? What? Why are you doing all these things?'' papa's voice had been calm. There was simply no strength in him to fight.

''Dad...it's not my fault,'' he had grumbled. ''that old man got it coming.''

''so what you did was right, shey?''

''He got it coming.''

'' that car you and your useless friends destroyed...do you know I had to pay for it to be repaired?''

Godwin said nothing.

''It cost me a lot of money. Your bail cost me a lot of money. Are you trying to bankrupt me?''

Godwin remained silent. Exhausted, papa got up and left for his room without saying anything. As I watched from the hallway, Godwin still kneeling, his head bowed in what I assumed was shame and remorse, I hoped he would change. If he had even an ounce of pity for papa, I hoped he would change.