The First and Last Time I Disobeyed My Mother [Fiction]
From the carefully covered cage, I saw my mother pass, through a thin hole in the leather cover. The sight of her instantly brought fresh tears to my eyes. I could only but wonder how distraught she would be when she discovers that I was missing. I could not shout for my mouth was strapped and I could not make any noise because I had been chained and dosed.
She had severally warned me not to leave home after 7 PM. She travelled and told me that she would be back the next day, but my friends told me that they would be going to a night festival and though I feared disobeying my mother, the pressure from my friends, and the fact that I would not be able to contribute to their discussions about the festival and that my mother would never have to know made me dare the night. This would be my first time disobeying my mother. I had not gone halfway when I felt a hand grip my mouth and hold my hands firm. Before I knew what was going on, I was unconscious. When I woke up, I was in a cage at the back of a truck.
I cried less for myself, but more for my mother. I was the only one she had. My father died several years ago and they were both immigrants for their homeland had suffered from years of harsh famine. I could only contemplate the fate of my future. We have heard tales of people being kidnapped never to be seen again. I feared for my future.
I and some other young girls were loaded onto a ferry and we were kept in a dark room. We were given small pieces of bread and water in the morning and at night. I could not see the sun except the rays which entered the room when the door to the darkroom was open when we were given food. After three days, two girls died and were thrown into the river. I could not believe that I longed for death just to escape the unseen fate I had to face. I saw no saviour and I lost all hope. As we travelled several other girls died, but my breath was unwilling to give way. I spent my days in the depth of my thoughts. I sometimes wondered what my mother would be doing. I could imagine how I would have been helping my mother in the kitchen. I never really liked beans, but I missed my mother forcing me to eat beans as she claimed it would help me grow. I wished I could eat her beans, I wished I could listen to her stories, bear her spanking, and laugh at her funny dance steps when she was happy. I missed it all. I tried not to think of the future but it was inevitable.
After many days (for I stopped keeping count), I felt the ship stop moving. Several minutes later, the dark room was opened. I and the remaining girls were commanded to stand up, and we were all chained together. I was expecting that we would be hidden in a cage, but I soon realised that we were in a slave market. Other ships were there with girls and boys chained. Afraid for my future, I muttered, “God help me.”
I saw men and women come to the market sizing us like meat for soup. They haggled, laughed, and made several bodily comparisons of their to-be-bought slaves. A man came to where I was to be sold, and after several minutes of discussion, he pointed at me and another girl. We were sold and I could only but fight tears back as I heard the slave trader say, “I knew that girl would bring good luck.” Our buyer had paid a good sum for me. I wondered what he saw in me.
He bought us so that we could tend to his new wife, his third wife, Madam Mariam. She was a beautiful young girl. She was petite with an irresistible smile and goodly body features. We were oriented by the chief slave, Madam Salam, and had to learn from fellow slaves before we were given to Madam Mariam’s care. Madam Mariam was kind and friendly. Though we were her slaves, she did not think less of us. She made me think of my mother so much. We helped her with her laundry, food, serving of her guests, and other chores.
Her co-wives did not like her, because they knew that their husband loved her so much. She was so beautiful that our master bragged about her beauty with his friends whenever they visited. As she could not mingle with her co-wives, she confided in us. For 13 years, my life was monotonously lived to serve Madam Mariam. When I was 28 years old, our master died, and he left a great deal of his wealth to Madam Mariam including the house. Nonetheless, she knew that her life would not be safe with her co-wives around, so she ran away with me and my co-slave. She had a lot of gold, which she sold. At that time, we had become her friend. She offered us freedom, but I clung to her. My co-slave left, but as I did not know where else to go and what may have befallen my mother, I chose to stay. She told me that I could leave whenever I wanted to but I saw no need. She was family and I just wanted to be with her. She travelled far away from her homeland. Her parents had died, so she had no one just like myself. We finally settled at a land. The people seemed friendly and welcoming. She told me that she heard about the land from her parents. She still had a lot of money from the jewels she sold and she used it to get a little house and set up a small bakery. I had initially laughed when she told me that she could bake. I had never seen her cook and I did not know how to bake. She told me that her mother loved to bake and she learnt from her mother. She called the bakery, “Beloved” and she taught me how to bake. It was fun and delightful. We had customers come around. Bread was not common in that village, so the people were excited when we made bread, cakes, croissants, doughnuts, and other confectioneries. We had children coming back from school stopping at our stall each weekday.
As we sold one day, I heard some shout, “Ifunaya”. I did not mind, but when I heard it again, I could not help but look at the person. I was known as Dorcas now and only someone from my childhood days would know me by the name “Ifunaya.” The person came closer, but I could not recognise her. She said that she recognised me. She mentioned the name of my mother and my village. That day we had to close the stall early because I broke down in tears. That was the first time I cried ever since I left the slave trader boat. I was standing before one of my former classmates. She had changed a lot. She told me that my mother was still alive and that she had come to get some wares to sell in our village. I told Madam Mariam that I wanted to follow her. Madam Mariam insisted that she come along with me. We travelled for several days before getting to my village. It has been more than 14 years since I last saw my mother from the cage. I barely fought the tears in my eyes as my classmate took me to my mother’s house. When I saw her, we both burst into tears. I did not understand myself, all I knew was that I was happy as she held me in her arms. If only I had listened to her word, I would never have caused her so much sorrow; nonetheless, I was glad that God showed me mercy and brought Madam Mariam into my life.
