THE STRANGE PROPOSAL
Part 7
©Franca Uwuigiaren
I spent three more days in River State before I returned to my family in Lagos. I had to visit my siblings and in-laws. My in-laws were not happy about the condition of their daughter and grandson, but after I explained the cause and measures taken, their minds were put to rest. Despite the short notice, my mother-in-law was able to package enough foodstuffs to take along with me. My parents did their best too, as I was given some cash and foodstuffs.
I missed my wife and children and was glad I returned in one piece and met them all alive.
My wife was happy and we believed that in a few days’ time, things would return to normal. I didn’t fail to thank my neighbour who assisted my family in my absence. I was truly grateful.
I settled down, hoping that soon Alabo would get well and join others in school, and Oroma would leave the bed, walk on her own, and gain another teaching job. As the days unfolded, we prayed for improvement in their health.
Unfortunately, a few days after my return, I noticed that Oroma’s size had increased. Her face was swollen, and I kept staring at her. At a time, she queried why I was staring at her.
“Is there anything wrong in admiring my beautiful wife?” I asked, smiling.
She smiled and looked at herself.
“Beautiful wife like this? In this condition, you still admire me?”
“I will admire you in any condition, my love.”
She laughed until tears fell from her eyes. I was glad she was happy, yet I couldn’t tell her the reason why I kept staring at her.
The bedroom was no longer conducive for me, yet I managed, pretending as if I didn’t perceive the smell from my wife. The children, who used to cluster around their mother, hardly came around her. They would prefer to stay in their rooms or play outside. When it was time to sleep, I would lie close to Oroma, and the moment she fell asleep, I would rush to the sitting room to lay on the long settee.
She asked me the other time why I was spraying air freshener every now and then, and I couldn’t give her a reasonable answer.
One night, she told me something that touched me. She said that during the time I travelled, her friend, our neighbor, couldn’t come close to her, then she asked her if there was a problem.
“She kept telling me there’s no problem. Each time she wants to assist me to the bathroom, she would wear a nose mask. I was very uncomfortable by her attitude. Then I called our second son and asked if there was anything wrong with me, and he told me that I smell.”
Tears escaped from Oroma’s eyes.
“I didn’t know I smell. I now know that’s why you’re always spraying the house with air freshener, but…I…I can’t perceive any smell from me. Others are perceiving it, and I don’t. I know too that that’s why I wake up in the night, and you’re not on the bed. I have noticed that many times.”
I couldn’t say anything. I was already emotional too, so I assured her that everything would be okay.
“Thank God I have appeased the goddess.”
“So how long am I going to wait for my health to return to normal? Our son is groaning in his room. He can’t eat. He is so shrunken.”
I kept quiet and worried. Truth be told, I expected that by now, things would be changing, but it looks to me that the opposite of what I expected is happening.
In the morning, I called my mother and told her that I hadn’t seen positive changes in the condition of my family. She said I was impatient and shouldn’t expect a miracle to happen overnight.
“Give it a few more days and I believe you will start to notice changes,” she said.
“Okay oo!”
So the days progressed, and I decided that I wasn’t going to stay home but go out and hustle. I thought of the type of hustling to do, then decided to go to the motor park. I saw how young boys and men would help a driver call passengers, and the moment the vehicle is filled, the driver pays them. A hundred naira per vehicle loaded.
I decided to join them. Every bus I loaded, I got paid. It wasn’t an easy job, for I need to keep shouting until a vehicle is filled. In my case, getting passengers to fill a bus was difficult. Sometimes the bus would be filled, and the driver almost gave me money, and the next, all passengers would alight as if someone sent them out. It frustrates me. Most drivers started avoiding me. They would tell me I slow down business for them. Still, I persisted, hoping to get small money and still hoping that things would get better.
Every day, immediately my family had been taken care of, I would go to the motor park and hustle and return home to take care of my family.
One night, after a sleepless night with cries of pains, Oroma began telling me that she was sure that the goddess didn’t accept the sacrifice.
“Obiama, what will be your gain if I die? As you see me like this, I am dying slowly…and my son.”
“I’m fed up too,” I told her.
“Just accept her proposal…ask your family what’s involved in accepting her…”
I shunned her immediately.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Marry her…at least let me and my children live. Please.”
This became a thing that we quarreled over every day. She accused me of her problem and kept malice with me. She would cry and tell me to help her end her life since she couldn’t bear the pains on her body any longer.
During one weekend, I didn’t go hustling because the landlord’s wake-keep was to be done that day. I was restless. I couldn’t stay in the house because everywhere was smelling. I bought more air fresheners in the house. I told my family that I was going to hustle that day, but I didn’t go anywhere. I went to an uncompleted building and sat thinking of my life.
I returned home by three in the afternoon and joined my neighbours for the wake-keep seating under the canopy. I felt so much guilt for Oga landlord’s death.
There was a lot to drink and eat, but I couldn’t eat. I took three bottles of beer in all. I had to leave my neighbours to take care of my family.
Oroma was still angry with me, but I was not going to please her. I called mama again and told her there were no changes; she told me she would see the priestess and get back to me.
That night, I tried to talk to Oroma, but she wasn’t responding well; rather, she called her father and told him that she had been sick and dying. Her father told her to hand over the phone to me. Her father instructed that I bring their daughter to Rivers so that they can consult their deity for the next line of action. I handed Oroma the phone, and for a long time, she talked with her father, telling him all she was going through.
I could hear her father saying I didn’t explain those parts to them when I visited.
Immediately she dropped the phone, she started shouting: “Goddess, my husband has accepted to marry you…please marry him and let me and my son live…”
I was angry and immediately shunned her.
“This is exactly what my grandma did.”
I left her in the bedroom to the sitting room. But then I thought about it all and placed myself in her position. I know she’s scared. If I was in her shoe, what would I do? I returned to the bedroom and sat beside her despite the smell. I spoke gently to her, then told her to give me a few days to sort everything.
I told her she had to be patient for me to hustle and get transport money so I could transport her to Rivers state.
We went to bed happy. I didn’t know when I fell asleep, probably from the drinks. I was to wake up that night to see a stranger on my bed. I was too dazed as I wiped my eyes, wondering if it was a dream. This stranger soon sat up in bed and suddenly turned to a python. I screamed so much that I ran to the sitting room.
When I got to the sitting room, she was waiting for me there. She sat majestically on the chair, unsmiling.
“It’s either you accept my proposal or I will keep tormenting you and your family. I have not even started yet, and you’re running to appease me.” She vanished before my eyes.
Despite my screaming, no one heard me. I ran back to the room and found Oroma on the floor on the other side of the bed, still asleep. I shook her violently in fear.
“What’s it, Obiama?” She asked. But then she was surprised to see herself on the floor.
“Why am I on the floor?”
“I saw her, Oroma…she didn’t accept the sacrifice. She told me so…she was on the bed…”
“On the bed…as in, you saw her face-to-face?” She asked, frightened.
“I saw her. Ahhh, I am finished. I am dead! What kind of thing has grandma done?”
I carried my wife and placed her on the bed and ran to check my kids.
“Obiama, there’s nothing you can do…you have to accept her proposal and be at peace. Please,” Oroma said as soon as I rushed back to the bedroom, but I didn’t respond. I was still dazed. A python on my bed?
In the morning, mama called that she met the priestess. I didn’t allow her to finish before I told her what happened. I could hear her sigh.
“Your father wants you to return to the village…he met someone powerful that…”
“Mama, I am going nowhere.” I told her.
“Perhaps you should accept the wealth of the river goddess. There’s a man I met at a function; this man is so wealthy. You may know him na…Tamunobere”
“I have heard of him…was told he is among the richest…”
“Ehen! I heard his wealth comes from the river goddess when I saw him, i went to him and began to question him, and he confirmed it. He is so simple and down to earth. I told him about you and he told me it’s no big deal accepting the goddess wealth…Obiama, it may not be as you see it. He told me that sometimes he goes to spend time with her in her kingdom. This man have houses everywhere…cars name it. He has orphanage homes and alot of people he is sponsoring in school; from primary to the university level. He assist the widows and less privileged in the community. His wealth is from the goddess.”
I listened as mama sang the praises of Tamunobere, but I was not interested. My mind was far from what mama was saying.
I was still thinking of the python I saw on my bed and the strange woman who appeared in my sitting room. I was still thinking of Oroma’s condition and Alabo’s sickness. I was still thinking of how to hustle and get money to take care of my family. My mind was filled with so many thoughts, and I didn’t know what to do. I was confused, and I needed help.
“Mama, I will think about it,” I said, trying to end the conversation.
“Okay, my son. Think well, and don’t forget what I told you.”
I dropped the phone and sat on the bed, thinking. What do I do? What choice do I have? I looked at Oroma who just dosed off, and my heart went out to her. I looked at my children, who were playing outside, and my heart went out to them. I knew I had to do something, but what? I didn’t know.
To be continued…
