WITH FEAR, FOR HOPE

​WITH FEAR, FOR HOPE

1.

THE BEGINNING.

Fear. That was my major watchword for living life. I didn’t just wake up one day and decide to embrace it, I grew. I grew into fear and its feeble yet sturdy hands wrapped around me reassuringly. With every step that I took, it morphed gigantically and whenever I looked over my shoulders, it was my shadow.

“Omokolapo!” My mother yelled.

Startled, the ceramic bowl in my hands dropped to the floor and shattered into tiny pieces. 

“Ah ah.” She came tumbling into the kitchen wondering what was going on. Mother was so shaken that all she needed was a single tilt to fall over her face. “What happened?”

“Nothing, ma. It was the way you called me, ma.”

Still heaving, she rolled her eyes, “Was that why you broke a plate? Why do you always get startled, Omokolapo? Are you sure you are okay?”

I knew the question didn’t mean she truly wanted to know if I was faring well or not. The required answer was to apologize and so did I. “Sorry, Mama.”

“I don’t know why you are like this oh.” She emphasized. “This is the third time you are breaking a plate this week and a countless since you were born.” She sucked her teeth, gave a long hiss, and retreated to the sitting room. “I wanted you to come oil my scalp, it is itchy.”

I snickered at her first utterance. Mother was exactly as jittery as I could get, yet she always wondered who I took after in that respect. In her usual manner, she would say, “Don’t give me hypertension oh.”

“Just a minute, ma. I will be there.” I called out, then rinsed my hands so I could grab the bunch of broomsticks to clean up the broken shards scattered all around the kitchen floor. 

    The loud beeping sound of the car outside drew my attention to look out of the window. It was Ms. Hermann –the only light-skinned woman in our estate. Don’t get me wrong, there were light-skinned people but none was as fair in complexion as this woman. Her hair was very brown in colour and she always had it packed in a bun so it didn’t get messy. Her eyes were so light brown, I could swear they had a speck of gold in them. I was very familiar with the sound of her car horn and when she returned home every day. The time was 4:30 p.m. on the dot. Since I’ve been at home for the holiday break, I have taken an interest in studying her daily movements, even though my inquisitiveness made me scared. Whenever I engaged in activities I shouldn’t, the hair at the back of my neck crawled up for no real reason. This time, she looked straight in my direction. Despite the barrier of the window net, our eyes clashed for half a second before I ducked. Her eyes were so piercing I felt she could see my insides.

“Omokolapo!” My mother yelled again. This time, a very strong hint of impatience tainted her voice. I knew better than to waste any more minutes, so I rose from my bent position and walked to the living room to meet my mother. However, I didn’t leave without taking a quick glance at the window. There was nothing to see.   

 

                                            ***

     It was barely two days after the staring incident that I got the chance to stand close to Ms. Hermann. Heaven knows that if she hadn’t beckoned at me, I wouldn’t have gone to meet her. Also, if Mama hadn’t gone to the market and left me to look after the house, there would have been no courage from my end. The moment I began to walk out of the house, I got scared and begged myself to return home. I summoned my fear for the very first time but it didn’t have my time. Not today. My excitement had sent it packing.

“Hi, ma,” I said shyly, standing several inches away from her car.

“I am Funto. Call me that. What’s your name?”

I could never call her by her name. If Mama ever heard that I referred to an elder by their name, she would scream the whole world down. I nodded and said, “Omokolapo.” 

“Lovely name. Do you read books? I have a lot of them. You can come check at my house every day.” She smiled sweetly. “I will pick you up on my way from work.”

I didn’t want her walking into the house because I was scared Mama wouldn’t approve. She didn’t seem keen to be friendly with the young woman. At times, I felt Mama avoided Ms. Hermann. As though she could read the worry on my face, she said, “Just a horn.”

I understood immediately and bounced back home. In my head, I have hatched out the perfect excuse for Mama.

 

 

 

2.

THE HAPPENING.

     Two weeks left until school resumed and I had made up my mind to tell my mother that I no longer wanted to stay in boarding school. My newfound friendship with Ms. Hermann, oh sorry, Auntie Funto had blossomed so beautifully that I couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing her anymore. Every 4:30 p.m. after work, Auntie Funto would honk her horn. It was our shared signal to alert me of her presence. Barely five minutes later, I would hurry out of the house after lying to my mother that I was going to see Rebecca, my childhood friend. Except, she wasn’t. Rebecca and I have never shared any long conversation since we both left primary school. Mama doesn’t know that because although we weren’t cordial, Rebecca and I shared greetings whenever we met in the neighborhood. To Mama, Rebecca was my best friend.

     The books were not the only factor that drew me closer to this woman who lived alone, it was her intelligence, her eloquence, and her gentleness. She never scolded me nor spoke angrily to me like Mama does. Mama was the best mother and she treated me with attention but she was always angry. I don’t blame her, a lot of frustrations come with motherhood and having to bear over half of the home responsibility despite having a partner. But enough talk about my parents. The first day fear gripped me with its uneven yet skin-cutting claws after a very long time drew nearby. I never saw it coming because I had long discarded it. Auntie Funto didn’t use her car horn that day and it was five minutes past the usual time. Normally, I shouldn’t have been afraid because what did being five minutes late matter? Five minutes grew into fifteen, then twenty and thirty. I was no longer at ease. My disorganized state was so obvious that Mama spoke up.

“What is wrong with you again?”

I couldn’t reply her. I was not ready to formulate lies and I had nothing to say to her so I shook my head and walked back to my room. I paced up and down. 

“Omokolapo! Isn’t it time to go to your friend’s place? Is that why you are all fidgety?” Mama called out. “I’ve told you to stop doing this thing.”

I walked back to the position she sat in before I entered the room and sat next to her. Not a single word was uttered except the continuous shaking of my legs.

“Are you fighting with Rebecca?” Mama stared at me as though trying to read my mind.

I shook my head sideways. “Mama, can I go now?”

My mother clapped both her hands together in awe. “Did I stop you from going before?”

     As I made my way out of the door, I could hear her complaining about my weirdness. She even mentioned that she would take me to the church for deliverance. On a normal good day, I would laugh and shake my head at my mother’s superstitious beliefs but today wasn’t normal. I could feel it deep in my bones. I sprinted to Auntie Funto’s house. On getting there, I didn’t shut the gate behind me after walking in. Her car was in the parking lot and I felt disappointed that she didn’t think to notify me of her presence. I wondered if she was fed up with my presence and far too many questions already. Maybe I should stick to staying in boarding school then. With a slight push, the door creaked open and I ran in. The sight I met wasn’t meant for an eleven-year-old to see. I screamed out loud and fear chuckled heavily in the corner. In my panicked state, I dashed back home.

“Mama! Mama oh!” I screamed.

Still never getting used to me being a scaredy cat, my mother had jumped out of her chair and ran to me. Her heels were barely touching the floor and her wrapper was loosely draped around her.

“What is it, Omokolapo? What happened to you?”

I couldn’t connect a good sentence but I hurried back to Auntie Funto’s house and Mama followed closely, calling on the help of others.

      Auntie Funto was saved, her life hanging loosely around her neck. Mama took good care of her as though she birthed her. I’d never seen my mother care so much for someone who she barely knew. Mama nursed her back to health, fed her, gave her words of advice, and even invited her to church. Auntie Funto never went to church though and it made me happy. Why did Mama think everyone had to follow her to church? I watched closely as I offered my assistance. Much to my dread and against my will, two weeks came to an end, and I had to return to school. I recall holding tightly to Auntie as I said my goodbyes. She had promised to come visit me on the school’s visiting date which was in three weeks.

                                        ***

 

     I woke up extra early that morning, took my bath, and was the first at the visiting hall. I waited in anticipation for my mother and Auntie Funto to arrive. I’d prayed that Mama would let Auntie Funto come along with her. As I saw Mama coming alone from a distance with a basket perched on her head, I knew my prayer had gone unanswered. Why did I even bother?

“Mama, why didn’t you bring her with you?” Those were the first words I spoke to Mama.

“Is that how to greet?” Mama hissed. “Come on, collect this basket from me. Are the things inside not for you?”

I did as she told but I was swollen with anger. “Where is she?”

Mama was looking outside. It was obvious she couldn’t look me in the eyes. “I don’t know.”

“How?” I pushed.

“This what was she left.” Mama pointed at the basket full of provisions for me and then passed me a letter. “And this for you.”

Tears rolled down my eyes uncontrollably as I read the content. The day I saved Auntie Funto, she had wanted to end her life. She called me the Angel she didn’t know she needed. She appreciated me for letting her live. She said for that reason, she has a new hope growing in her. She emphasized that I had saved her from killing herself and hope. The letter felt cryptic, I couldn’t understand. I looked up at Mama because I felt she knew more than me. Mama looked away from me, she knew more than I did, and I knew she was never going to tell me.

“She left the car for me.” That was all Mama said.

“How could she leave me?” I wept bitterly and my fear stood behind me and mocked me.

 

 

3.

THE END.

     Forgotten? Auntie Funto never made me feel that way, not once in my life. I am way older now and looking back, I have never been able to create any genuine friendship with anyone like my Auntie Funto. She was far away but her letters and way-billed gifts were very much present. In fact, her last letter was an invitation to come visit her. I squealed with joy when I received it, but the thought of having to run the plans through Mama fast quenched the joy. Up till now, Mama has made comments that showed her uncertainties about Auntie Funto. Mama couldn’t decide if she liked her or not and this has resulted in lots of arguments between us. I told Mama anyway and despite her skepticism, no parent would frown at their child’s opportunity to leave the shores of this country.

“Greet your Auntie, oh and I hope she doesn’t successfully kill herself this time that you are around her again.” Those were Mama’s parting words to me as I strolled into the checking area. I wasn’t mad at Mama, for what were parents without their brutally hurtful words?

     Auntie had been updated by me all through and when I finally touched down, I was to go with anyone who had my name written in their placard. I scrutinized the waiting area for this person. My eyes finally landed on someone and I didn’t need to see a placard to know who it was. It was Auntie Funto’s Hope –the one growing in her belly. My heart leapt for joy and I walked with heavy strides. But with each step I took, there came my shadow, my very old friend, fear. It thickened the environment with its stench and my once gladdened heart squeezed tightly. As I got closer, I knew it had finally happened because this time my fear was different. After marking its presence, I was covered in sweat. And even in a ridiculously cold land, I was dripping with perspiration. I kept whispering to myself to look straight ahead. I kept my eyes on Auntie Funto’s Hope. She was Auntie’s splitting image, only younger. When I finally reached her, we paused in front of each other. Her eyes were red and it was all I needed to know. I didn’t need any words of confirmation. She held out a phone in front of me to show me our shared messages. I had been talking to her all along.

      She broke into another sob and at that moment, I knew I had to be strong. A sense of responsibility gathered around me and it chased my fears away. It scrambled and ceased to thicken. I stretched out my arms and pulled Auntie’s Hope in, for she is now my Hope too. Fear shook, its stench no longer existed. And when Auntie’s Hope hugged me back, fear fled. I looked up and it was no longer there. Funto took it all away.