15|• Jenrola Bamidele

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This is for you @deluxeon and sthella9 who are our newest readers♥♥
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Twenty-four years ago, September 1996.

The rusted and stained signboard spelt out the barely legible 'Idowu Matanity Clinik' with a small motto underneath: 'we kill and we delifa'.

It was obvious that the one who made the signboard was not very proficient, in the area of English lexis. But, all the same, the message of the services offered there could be gleaned from the poorly spelt words.

The signboard announced the small, cubicle-like building behind it. The structure did not look particularly reputable; with the spirogyra creeping up on the edges of its unpainted outer walls; and the large red X stamped on the wall; announcing that the building had long been marked for demolition, but had been miraculously forgotten.

Stray goats and chickens flitted all around the building, their smell clinging to the outside air.

All these unsavoury features, however did not discourage the patronage of the men and women folk of the populous community of Iwaya, Yaba.

Idowu Maternity Clinic was the cheapest, quickest, delivery centre that pregnant women living in the slum frequented.

Jenrola Bamidele was no different. Her and her husband, Alani Bamidele, had jointly chosen the place since the charges catered to their shallow pockets.

The interior of the building wasn't prettier than the exterior, that was for sure.

Eight year-old Anjola looked with disgust at the peeling, faded yellow walls. The pungent smell of bleach clung to the enclosed air and caused the beginnings of a headache to form.

Even the constant drip of murky water from the stained, used-to-be-white ceiling served nothing but to irritate her already on-end nerves.

Large rodents frolicked around the environs, and the bored nurse behind the rotting, wooden table, rolled her eyes as another one of the rodents latched onto Anjola's foot.

Anjola sprang up from her seat on the uncomfortable bench; and shook her foot back and forth, in an attempt to get the stubborn rat off her small foot. "Daddy, rat!" she wailed, when the large bugger refused to get off.

Her distressed wail broke through Alani's turbulent haze of troubled thoughts. Heaving a short sigh; and still maintaining a calm disposition; he leaned over, and picked up the headstrong rodent by its tail; flinging it out out of sight; probably to meet the rest of his rat clan.

Alani gently coaxed his stepdaughter, back into her sitting position and tried calming her down.

The nurse sitting in front of them looked on, with thinly veiled disdain.

She couldn't help but chip in, "Why you con dey scream ehn? Abi wetin dey work you? Why are you screaming now? Or what's wrong with you? Simple rat, you're screaming as if they broke your head. Warn yaself oh," she said in her thick Igbo accent, accompanying her stern warning with a loud hiss.

Her saucy remarks were ignored by both father and daughter. "Don't mind her," Alani whispered to Anjola.

"Daddy, when is mummy coming out? I want to go home. I don't like this place," she complained.

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