ADA (4) : Decision

... Already accustomed to such derogatory names for the past three weeks,Ada rushed off the bed to clean herself up. Mr. and Mrs.francis have not been in talking terms lately; Ada couldn't help but feel it had something to do with her. Her head was pounding furiously as she made her way to the kitchen.
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A visibly joyous papa Ada proudly read the letter,his younger brother francis had sent him. He sent some money too,the fifth time in two months. The letter spoke of Ada in glowing terms. It says that despite her tight academic calendar,she still managed to be most helpful,domestically. Mama Ada performed a small dance of pride and exclaimed proudly:

"The palm kernel cannot fall far from the tree. She's my daughter,my blood. We are a hard working family"
 

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Bent halfway in the backyard,hands deep in the bucket of clothes she was washing,Ada wondered how strange the morning had been- Fluid on her face,and chest? Beside her stood a tall heap of clothes,another long and busy day she thought. She picked up the next cloth on the heap. Uncle francis' boxers,the one he wore last night.

"You wear a boxers one night and send it to your jackie to wash,eh kwa?"
she grunted between her teeth.

As she folded the shorts,about to immerse it in the bucket of soap water. She felt something familiar on it. She took it up and touched the front part of the boxers. It was a familiar fluid- the kind on her sheets,on her loins, face and chest-

she almost tripped over a stool as she did the sprint from the backyard to her room. She brought out her sheets,the one which had been wet this morning. She examined it beside the wetness on her uncle's boxers. Could it be? She wondered. She kept them both,her sheets and the boxers. She was going to check them later.

After hours of washing,Ada finally decided to check them-the sheets and the boxers. She observed the smear on the boxer and it dried in,the same peculiar way it usually did on her sheets.

Slowly, Ada began to make some sense out of it. It was not menstruation. Her dreams were not dreams, they were real. Her head ached as she wept. The name calling -prostitute,witch,home wrecker- it all made sense to her now as she cried bitterly.

Her resentment knew no bound. The man she called daddy. She wished she could run home, and tell her parents and the villagers all this. She knew no where else in the city, besides the walls of her uncle's house. She could not trust Aunty. She reckoned that aunty must have been calling her prostitute because she knew. Another round of weeping followed. Jolted up from hours of weeping and deep thoughts by her uncle's honk, she decided,there and then that she would leave.

That night,uncle francis inquired if she had taken her bath as usual. Ada put on her underwear and a denim trouser, in contrast to the wrapper uncle advised her to sleep on. She wrote a letter and tucked it into her pocket. She lay down to sleep but didn't. She waited...

(to be continued)

To read previous parts Click below:


Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

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