I hug her tightly. She tells me they are doing a beautification
project for Nakumatt. Oooh… She asks me about my daughter and some other
details. Then she says it, “I have left my baby at home, He is big now.” Boom!
There it is, the topic I wanted to avoid. So I ask her, “Which baby?” but I
check my quick tongue just in time before she hears that. So I ask her whom she
has left the baby with and she tells me her sister. “I have started weaning
him.” She adds. The other women are now looking at us, interested in our
conversation.
I am getting late, I tell her that I have to go. I hug her
goodbye. When I turn away, there are tears in my eyes, my vision is blurred. I
can’t believe what she has just told me, her lack of emotion. A few weeks after I moved out of her neighborhood,
a close friend told me that her baby boy had died. Dead and buried. And now
this! I can’t explain the spring of mixed emotions that well up in me.
I don’t know what to do. I halt in my steps. I feel like
going back to her and saying something more but…What am I supposed to say? How
am I supposed to console her? Am I supposed to ask her whether the baby has
resurrected?
So, if it’s true that her son died, why is she lying to me?
Why is she reluctant to face the truth, to accept the finality of death? As a
mother, I understand this. A baby you have carried nine months in your womb, a
baby you have suckled, a child you have seen them smile and throw up their tiny
legs and arms in the air in utter nonchalance. And all that you have earned
with him is a few months of a lifetime. Sad, sad, sad and very sad, I repeat.
Personally, I don’t know how I would have dealt with this. I
don’t want to judge her. Maybe I should pay her a visit and find out the truth
for myself. Maybe I should send someone to talk to her. Maybe I should pray for
her. So many maybes. I am sorry Theresia. Sincerely I am sorry. Please have the insight of knowing that it is
not your fault that it happened.
I
promise it’s not your fault, and it never was.
And if it ever comes to a time when I will
know the truth, I will forgive you for putting on a brave face, a fake smile, and
congratulate you for pretending that everything is okay, for asking God to give
you the grace to tell a lie.
And if it ever turns out that this is not true, then, “Shame
on grapevine!!”
I have been standing here for like five minutes now,
thinking about Theresia. I have booked a vehicle and my phone is ringing. It’s
the driver, I can’t hear the phone ring. Something rustles me back to reality,
I take my phone, receive the call and the driver is very angry with me. “Where
are you? I will leave you behind!” I run like crazy towards the stage, get into
the jav. All the passengers are shouting at me, for delaying them. I say I am
sorry but they don’t want to hear it. They continue shouting at me. I turn my
backs on them, I am going to enjoy my journey, the scenic view of the
countryside, that’s why I booked the front seat, anyway. I am crying, and I can’t
find my handkerchief, but ooh, please, the shouting behind me is the least of
my concerns now. I care less who is seeing my tears.