Visible Essence

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Mama had arranged for her youngest brother, to come live with us and learn to manage her business since he has nothing doing in the village. And also chidiogo would have someone taking care of him when she was gone.

Mama’s brother was nice and young and probably the best uncle I knew. So I bet chidiogo would be very happy with him around.

Mama couldn’t miss that opportunity; once in a life time opportunity and no one knows if such doors would open up so wide again, if she turns it down, so make due of and grab the one you see.

Our ticket to happiness I would love to refer it.

Papa had being delighted about the whole news, happy for  mama, in short he had being trying to change, to bring us all back together, having us live in one peace as a family.

He had being trying for years now, in his own way. Ever since chidiogo started speaking, but it isn’t that easy forgiving especially when someone close hurts you.

He had called us one day into the sitting room to talk to us, probably asking for forgiveness. As he spoke, his voice became soft and low.

’I think if God was sitting here with us, all of us".

he held out his arms for a moment, into the air, the dropped it onto his knees in plain sight, squeezing his knee.

‘He’d say, “family is a gift".

"It’s something from me. So learn to love, forgive and accept one another".

"That’s how you find your soul".

I began to feel warm inside, as if light had broken and burned away some of the shadows.

Was papa asking for our forgiveness or telling us what said?

He hadn’t said ‘please forgive me’,

only "God, family and love" that was all he kept saying.

" His words!"

Nothing much has changed for papa, apart from the fact that he no longer has much say in everything about us, Just the normal work.

He became sober and no late nights. Although the relationship between him and mama was like mercury and Jupiter, they still live in the same house.

I could always sense the awkwardness between them. But in Igbo land, married is for better, for worst, till death; an institution you don’t graduate from unless death struck.

It was on July 2014, the night before mama was to travel to Lagos to uncle mike’s house, then from there board a flight to Canada.

Mama looked a little scared, quiet and worried; she leaned forward and brought her knees up to her chin so that she was all hair, face and legs.

From below the windows, in the darkness, came the first click, scratch and scrape of an early cicada. Soon there would be a hundred of them, the males whirring and shrilling for the females.

Even by day they were invisible in the branches, lost among the ferny leaves. But at nights they were almost visible in the rising current of sounds that whined to a crescendo through the open window.

      The sound rose, then fell to silence so that he could hear instead the tree frogs down by the pool of water by the street, the occasional cars swishing along the highways few kilometers from the house. And mama’s breathing; even, quiet and steady.

We all sat with her at the bed room, packing her bags and when we were done, we sat there gisting and talking all night, laughing and soon fell asleep. Mama packed her bags by the side of the room and went into their room, organizing the rest of her stuffs.

Papa was sitting on the bed reading a bible when she came in.
How long would you be staying? Papa asked.

As long as I have to, she replied.
You haven’t said anything about the job to me, he said again trying real hard to have a chat with mama.

‘There’s nothing much to say. I like the job, for now, and the hospital likes the work am doing. I just don’t know if I want to spend the rest of my life in this our present situation, having to face everything you had put me through in the past, that’s all. But I have told you all that before, haven’t I?

He didn’t answer the question.

‘couldn’t stand it,’ he knew he would miss her a lot. Never though in his widest dream, would she spend one night outside their home. He felt sorry for himself.