By Jude Melea Moses
Gently, his broken words came stumbling after hours of swoon, “Didn’t I tell you that I’ll always be around you and my kids? I’ll always live to protect and provide for you!” The doctor monitored Danny’s
pulse rate on the fourteen inches medical monitor close to his bed, and left a smile of recuperation.
Danny ran his right hand over the thick layer of
bandage that had colonised his chest down to his lower abdomen. His wife, Zara drawled, “for the sake of your kids, please don’t d…ie,” she held her eighteen months old daughter, Panam close to her father and forced a smile towards her four years old son, Tia.
After some minutes away, the beep on the monitor changed tone, Danny started moving and stretching his hands and legs, the intensions in his eyes where different with that of his body, a blood spot appeared on the surface of the bandage, others larger ones followed immediately. Before the hazel flow on his abdomen became profuse, Zara gave a deep shout.
“Doctor, Doctor, Doc…tor, help, please, come, my husband is…” immediately her legs took another speedy turn off the ward, a nurse and a doctor ran in tandem towards her, towards her husband.
“Mama Panam, abeg give me N100 akara”
“Mama Panam” one customer woke her from a trance.
It’s been more than six years she last saw her husband after a deadly bomb blast killed more than fifty people in Maiduguri. Although her husband made it, but gave up at the Teaching Hospital that very evening. It was on the 23th of December 2011, she has forgiven the day, but never forgot it.
“Sorry sir, here is the akara.”
“I didn’t see the jara mama Tia” the customer reopened the paper wrapper and started counting the akara, one after another.
“My customer, I added two jara for you.”
The customer was carried away with joy, he refused to say good bye until he had walked some yards away. She never cared anyway! Customers are always right. She scooped the few ones on fire and kept them on the silver colander beside her.
It’s dusk, Zara sped her hands. Packing and arranging her akara utensils were easy with Tia and Panam by her side.
It took them thirty minutes trek home from her point of business; the popular Monday Market, to their house. Nightfall is growing ticker, but meal must be prepared.
“Panam, what shall we cook tonight”
“Indomie noodles” she smiled
Tia was quite because he had always supported his junior sister when noodles was her choice.
“Your al…most…”
“…Nine mother,” Panam ran into the kitchen to light the stove, her mother followed her instantly.
Some minutes after, Zara and her two kids sat on the carpet to eat their dinner. Zara watched closely at her two kids and wished her husband was alive to join them, and see his kids grow!
“Mother, you’re not eating,” Zara took a fork rolled with some noodles and stretched it towards her, towards her mother’s mouth.
“Come on mother, eat from my spoon” Panam insisted.
“This fork full will be last.., ” Tia’s plate is almost empty, but that will be okay for him.
“Mother, Mo…ther,” Panam lowered her voice on every call that followed , fiddled the fork in her hand and asked one same question that has refused to go away for years.
“When will my Father come back?”
Zara had always told Panam that her father has travelled since she started talking. Only Tia knew their father was dead; he’s been forced by insurgency to make a journey of no return.
“When will he return, when will I get to see him and tell him I took first position in class? Or has he abandon you mother like Baba Yakubu to his family!”
“It’s almost 10 pm, you both need to go to bed, you’ll be having a long day at school tomorrow.” The timing has saved her daughter the painful reality on her father.
Panam was reluctant but stood up and gradually followed Tia straight into the bedroom.
“when will I stop hiding the truth from her, I have to tell her the truth; that her father’s gone, he’s taken a journey of no return, that Boko Haram’s killed him!” she tried to hide her tears in the dark room but couldn’t.
The noise gradually drew closer, she can hear people crying and shouting, some gun shoots accompanied each noise. Could this nightmare be robbing her of some sweet dreams? She sobered up and was happy she has escaped it, but the bedlam continued.
“This is no dream” she took some steps toward her window and what she saw made her even more scared!
“They’re here again” some few hours away, she’d told her kids to go to bed. Without a choice, she quickly went inside and woke her kids.
“sheeee,” her hands were trembling, but she woke them gently.
Panam and Tia became more frighten when they heard the gun shots. Panam started to cry.
“Quite my princess” her mother begged her. Her cry brought a strange hit on their door, the second hit that almost tore the wooden door actually broke it into two parts.
Two moderately shaped men entered, Zara became paralyzed with fear when she saw two metallic mouths, one pointed at her and the other still scanning the room for any possible life.
“It seems she’s alone” one of the men she couldn’t dear look giggled.
“Where’s your husband?” the second man whose face has been shadowed with darkness demanded before squatting close to her.
“He..eee’s been killed” tears took over. She’s scared not to cry to prevent her kids from forsaking their hideout.
Close to her, he gradually dropped his riffle and made a sign to his colleague.
“I guess you don’t want to joint your husband?” the tears in her eyes couldn’t be helped.
“You can’t, ple…ase” the man rolled down his trouser.
“Yes I’ll.” He dragged her closer and laid on her.
“Noooo please!”
The man continued to struggle with her.
The second man ran in…
“They’re here”
“Who”
“The military, and...”
“Shit!”
When he’d stood up, she felt a sharp pain on her stomach, a pain that came with an even sharper scream. Tia threw away the cover of their hideout, he left Panam inside the big pot and followed the shout of his mother.
Lying in her blood she’s panting for breath, the air around her was too heavy for her to inhale, death started crowing into her gradually.
“hee..eelp, please help my mother” she’s dying!
Before the breaking of the day, the breaking of the news was everywhere; the print, the broadcast. News bars were crawling beneath most TVs. The BBC news anchor continued “… more than 20 persons have been killed, and many critically injured in an attack that took place in a community in Maiduguri this morning, northeast, Nigeria. While no group is yet to claim responsibility, many suspected Boko haram was behind the attack. Our correspondent will tell us more…”
While most of the offices and wards had this breaking news on screen, the Accident and Emergency wards of the University of Maiduguri Teaching Hospital was busy saving lives. Zara has just been rushed to the theatre, her case critical. The venom from the dagger is eating her up.
Her case was critical but the doctors refused to give in, they kept on for hours, but her health kept running downhill. The beeping sound on the monitor beside her bed took a long incessant tone shortly. Her pulse was leaving her body helpless!
“Defibrillator please” one of the nurse handed it to him, the chief surgeon and went for oxygen.
After some minutes, the surgeons held their heads low. A moment a surgeon will always remember; a surgeon’s nightmare.
“Please wrap her up!” The lead surgeon said and took the direction of the exit door.
One of the neighbours, Mama Lara had accompanied Tia and Panam to the hospital. She ran towards the doctor when the exit door opened.
“Doctor… please…” before another word from her, the doctor had resisted his emotion taking over him.
“I’m sorry ma’am, she didn’t make it…!” Mara Lara almost broke down but feared for Tia and Panam, these young orphans. She held a calm tears and went to them.
“Mama Lara, where’s my mother!” Tia held her closer.
Mama Lara lacks words. “she’s…”
“Doctor, doctor, doc…tor,”
A nurse followed the surgeon’s trail. In no minutes the surgeon re-entered the theatre. Shocked the surgeon asked.
“How did it happen?”
The nurse ran her right hand on Zara’s left wrist and exposed a simple brown Bracelet. Two lines of black threads had supported each cube, a birthday gift to Panam when she clocked five years.
“A little girl outside the theatre gave me to wear it on her, that her mother had given it to her and promised she’ll always be with her!”
The surgeon and other doctors were surprised; her pulse rate took dominance, the heat in her body’s been restored.
“This is more than science; this is a miracle” the doctor went even closer, monitored her and demanded she should be taking to intensive care unit, ICU.
“Please, tell her family that she’s alive and not dead!” the surgeon took another way off the theatre.
While Zara was being wheeled out gently, her eyes were white and focused, her heart was beating, beating for a change; a better world for women, and for all.
(For all the women and mothers out there)