In the blistering northern sun, I sat on a deserted anthill and watched the sundrenched sky with a long face and the redden clouds, hoping for the scarlet rain.
Only yesterday, I was wrapped in life’s perfection; when Umar’s hijab cuddled her smiling face, and Uba’s strength was like of a stallion, and I, in my night dress, fluttering in the breeze. The mild raising sun, caressed my tanned skin. The birds singing the familiar sad symphony to my ears, when having a mental savoury on my return from an errand of kosai for Umar’s akamu.
Blood! Crimson splattered on the grungy wall. Uba was lying nude in the dust wet with his blood, with half-shut eyes and open throat. Blood gushing, like a tap coughing water. Umar, for the first time, her hijab flung off; er naked ebony hair like a mutilated crown, her belly slit open, with my unborn sibling protruding, and her face, pale and smeared with tears.
These memories, green, are smudged in my mind; coming back as incessant nightmares and repugnant recalls haunting me both in twilight and daylight like an apparition with the dark shadows and the red bloods.
Living without the smiles of Umar, or the strong arms of Uba is like living in a mausoleum mithed in dire bereavement, and naked to the perils of an unsafe world. Death is my saviour from these grotesque memories and this forlorn world where love and affection is as obscure as smoke and mirrors.
Here I sit, famished, on that anthill, waiting for death’s solemn call.
Umar- Hausa word for mother
Uba- Hausa word for father
Kosai- Hausa word for beans cake
Akamu- Hausa word for pap