SOUR SUGAR #projectnigeria

Chapter 5

             The next month that came rolling in, I had finally been offered admission to study Political Science at the University of Lagos. That was around the same time Madey graduated and had chosen to finish her masters in England. Everyone was there for my matriculation ceremony, including Godwin. He had been of good behavior lately; well, as good as it gets after being suspended from school for three weeks. He had even pulled me aside and said he would love to attend Unilag. That had been the first time I ever heard Godwin think ahead concerning his future.

The next day when it was time to leave, mama had had a look I couldn't quite decipher on her face. It was a mixture of both peace and sorrow. Mama hugged me and told me to always pray and be careful. Then she gathered Madey, Memunah and I, starred at us with pride.

''I've always waited for this day.'' She said with her eyes glossy.

''Oh, mom.'' Memunah rolled her eyes. ''you are always so dramatic.''

Mama smiled. ''Oh, Memu. If only you knew.... how I've always waited for the day my girls would become women. Because when you are a woman, you are free. And so am I.''

I furrowed my eyebrows and my sisters and I exchanged looks.

''I know the three of you won't dare to make the same mistakes I did.'' Then she touched my face, her touch lingering before mama bid me farewell, and they all bundled themselves into papa's Montero Jeep and drove off. I did not let mama's puzzling statements leave my mind. From time to time, I would think about it. And it finally made sense when I came home for my semester break.

Mama was leaving papa.

There were mixed feelings between my sisters and I. Madey was indifferent, but wished mama all the luck she needed. Memunah was happy, so happy that she had even suggested she throw a party to celebrate her freedom, and I felt as though my world was shattering. It was more because I pitied papa. What would he do without mama? Would he continue to live in guilt for using his own hands to ruin his family? Would he continue to be tormented by Asabe and his wayward son? I knew it was the best thing for mama, but I couldn't believe it.

Mama had packed her bags for Lagos,  and wished papa the best of luck. If there was anything he could do, it was to accept his fate. This time, he wouldn't beg her to come back, he had not the guts. Perhaps, because of the society they had lived in, mama didnt think a legal body to accentuate their separation was necessary. She moved in with gran'ma, who was completely overjoyed about the news. Which surprised me because gran'ma never liked the idea of separation.

 When I say the change in my mother,  I became was happy for her. 

Every time I came home from school for a break, it was as though she grew younger. I was even more surprised to see that she now painted again and stopped wearing native gowns. She would listen to music on a new stereo she had purchased, and sometimes she and I would dance around the house for no reason. Her happiness was infectious. Her fair skin glowed now, and she had never looked as happy as she did away from my father's house as she did now.

For a while, I did not go to see papa. His house reminded me of dark clouds circling around the ceiling. I no longer lived in Abuja any more. Neither did my sisters. Papa and I spoke on the phone. Not always, but only when I wanted him to know my progress in school, about my GPA and all that. After all, he had chosen to continue paying for the tuition fees.

As for Godwin, I suspected he had gotten worse. Papa did not bother us with it, but I could tell. When Madey had done the necessary by coming to Abuja to introduce her finance to papa, a nice Yoruba man named Taiwo she had met while in England, she said papa looked miserable.

''he said Godwin is in police custody and is now waiting for a court sentence. Asked him what he could have possibly done and he said the boy stole a car. Unfortunately for him, the person he stole the car from wouldn't have him leave with just a slap on the wrists. I don't know how Godwin got this bad... I just don't get it.'' Madey shook her head.

We were all in the living room, watching 7 pm Superstory, like old times.

''what do you expect? He is just like Asabe.'' Memunah said.

''do not be so insensitive, Memu. I'd also like to know what went wrong in his life.'' mama said.  ''seems like just yesterday that innocent boy walked into our lives.''

''perhaps we could visit him before he gets incarcerated?'' I said.

''you could o. but as for me, I have a bar exam in three weeks.'' Memunah said.

''I would have loved to visit him, Wangi. But Taiwo and I have a wedding to plan.'' Madey said.

And that was how mama and I left for Abuja to see Godwin. We had called papa, informing him of our plans, and he had decided to take us there. Mama and Papa were like strangers, greeting each other as though they were meeting for the first time. Papa seemed more docile, more thoughtful, and most of all – misery shaded his eyes. If I could somehow change the way things went sour for papa, for our family, I would.

But it was apparent life had its plans.

The ride to the police station was about an hour and a half down Lugbe road. It was quiet all through. When we had arrived at the seedy looking village station, the place they had abandoned my stepbrother with scrawny goats flocking off on the side, I could not help but feel a hard pang pulling against my heart. Oh, how I felt sorry for Godwin.

The constable by the desk barely acknowledged us as Papa begged to see his son. We were asked to wait, and we had waited for what felt like ages until a police officer dragged Godwin in by the boxer. Papa, mama and I stood up. Godwin had grown taller, taller than all of us. His hair was bushy and unkempt. His smooth dark skin was no longer smooth, but now ashen by the harsh harmattan. His eyes were pleading, even as miserable as papa's eyes.

Mama shook her head, tears starting to well up as he explained everything that happened. Apparently, he was not the only one in on the car theft, but the other two had run off and left him. He said that he barely participated and now he was going to pay for it all.

''I warned you,'' Papa said through his teeth, shaking his head. ''God knows that I warned him...''

''Papa, please... I need to get out of here... I am innocent.'' He cried. ''please, papa.''

''shut up there!'' the constable by the desk yelled. ''whoa, una time done finish o,''

As the police officer dragged him off like a stubborn goat, he pleaded. He cried so much that I was afraid the unfortunate sight would never leave my memory. And till this day, it never has. That was the last I saw of him.

When we got back to Lagos, I told my sisters everything. Even Memunah was starting to show a little compassion and express sympathy to the case. He was incarcerated two weeks later, and his sentence was to last for three years. During that time, it seemed as though Asabe had disappeared. She never visited him, not even after his imprisonment. It was as though she had just dumped him and ran as fast as she had come into our lives. I assumed when he got out, he went to meet his mother, and they had left the city and gone off to wherever they had come from after the damage had been done.