OGOCHUKWU ONUCHUKWU (NEE ONUGU)
[A voice from the grave]
My mum is crying. I can see her from here. She has aged since the last time I saw her.
Why does she look so old and why is she so thin? Can someone console her? Can someone make her stop crying?
I try to get up but I can’t. I try to reach for her, but I’m stuck where I am. It is very dark in here, and very cold, so very cold.
What am I doing here? Where is everybody? Where are my children? I begin to panic, to struggle; I want to get out of this dark room.
I can hear Uzo calling. She’s calling my name. Then, I see mum again. And I hear Uzo again. I don’t see my children. Where are my children? I can’t see beyond the walls of this dark and cold room.
Uzo calls again.
She sounds desperate to rouse me from my sleep. I am struggling to wake but I can’t. I open my eyes and they shut of their own accord.
I am powerless to keep them from shutting. And I find as soon as I stop struggling, my sleep becomes sweet repose. Suddenly I don’t want to wake from it just yet. It is peaceful.
I see mum again, and I see Uzo. Uzo keeps calling. She won’t stop calling. She is crying too, just like mum.
Can someone bring Kamsi and Amanda to me? Can someone bring my babies to me? I need to hug them, Kamsi, especially. Is he crying too and calling out for me?
Does he understand that I am gone? Kamsi will miss me.
He is a special child, you know; Kamsiyochukwu - my son and my first child.
I prayed and longed for his birth. He was the blessing from above that would seal Kevin’s love for me and give me some footing in his home and some acceptance from his family.
Before Kamsi, I was a nobody in Kevin’s home. I was born the last of nine children, the baby of the family. I was used to love and affection. I was everyone’s baby. I grew up knowing that everyone had my back, I grew up knowing the safety and security of being the baby of the home. You may then understand my shock when I stepped out of my home and into new territory with the man of my dreams only to find that I was really not as special as I had been made to believe. I look back to that day when Kevin took me home to introduce me to my new family. The cold and rude shock of the welcome his brother’s wife gave me set off an alarm in my head.
These people didn’t think I was special. In fact, her first words were, ”Kevin, ebe kwa ka isi dute nka?” (Kevin, “Where on earth did you bring this one from?) That would be the first time I would be addressed as “this one” and from then on, I grappled with the realization that I was not welcome in my new home.
