The Last of the precious Jewels

I was on my way back from a very boring lecture one hot afternoon, the absence of cabs and the consequent presence of a very long queue, the length of a railway line at the Cab park, meant i had to be an unwilling beneficiary of the sun's courtesy.

Midway through my 10 minutes trek, i realised that i even had a pair of sun shades in my bag, i hissed in annoyance and retrieved it from my back pack. I was about to wear it when suddenly the sound of my phone's ring tone broke through like a hunter whistling for his stray dog to come back to him.

I grabbed for my pockets and after seconds of frantically groping for the phone, i finally retrieved it, flipped the cover open and punched the receive button. 'Hello' a soothing female voice sauntered through the phone speakers, i replied carefully with a 'hi' and then a long minute of silence followed. I thought to myself, 'Well, if this stranger had so much airtime and wished to waste some on me, then i'm game', however, as the seconds ticked by, the whole scenario started to have an eerie aura about it, so i decided to mumble softly into the mouthpiece the words 'please who is this, i do not have your number on my phone and do not seem to know you either', my question was replied by another moment of silence, followed by a very loud sigh of by the person at the other end. From experience, that was a sigh of relief, an expression of someone who had

arrived at their destination after a very long walk, or of a trader who was satisfied with the profit they made after a long day of sales. In this case, it was clear that either reaching me or merely hearing my voice was a cause of relief, an end in itself or maybe a major means to an end for whoever it was that called.

I arrived at the Hostel that afternoon and the only thing that consumed my thoughts was the strange call i had received today, their was something sinister about it, like a dark hole lurking in the corner of a tunnel patiently waiting for a prey to fall in. I had this very intense feeling that something monumental was about to happen, over the years i had learnt to respect these feelings, several times in the past, they had successfully served as an effective warning mechanism for me. At about 10pm that evening, the sound of my cry of my phone woke me up from a fitful sleep, it was the strange number again, i had saved it as 'dunno' in order not to be caught unawares again. I waited till the tone neared its end before i picked the call, this time around, i had prepared a barrage of questions for whoever it was that had decided to torment me from behind a clock of anonymity.

'Hello, my name is Mrs. Nkechi and i am your mother', suddenly i breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. After all it was just a wrong number, i hissed in my mind and replied her with the products of my thoughts, ending it with, 'maybe you should check the number again'. The female voice or Mrs Nkechi as she claimed to be refused to accept my simple explanation but rather insisted that i tell her my name, after some arguments, i obliged her request. The name is Deji i said, surprised by how shy i was to tell this total stranger my name.

Mrs Nkechi went on and on about how she had to transverse the length and breadth of the world in search of me; her son, she told me a whole new version of my history, very different from the one which my Parents never had to tell me, for i knew my past so well and had infarct experienced every tiny bit of the joy and excitement which characterised it.  The more she peeled away layers off her thick story, the more my body became weakened, at a point, i became so rigid that i couldn't even move my feet. My ears were now glued to the phone and with each word she spoke, the more i believed her tale, her voice brought this sort of soothing calm to my whole being and i could feel some sort of camaraderie quickly growing between us. She ended her revelation with a short sob and a command-like request for us to meet the next day, it was strange that i obliged her request even without a second thought. I felt like i were in a dark tunnel and she was a beckon of light, with a promise to get brighter if i cooperated by following her lead. Our discussion had taken the better part of an hour and it was almost 11pm at night.

By exactly 10:56Pm that same night, my real Mum, the one i knew and whose breasts i had sucked called me, we had an intimate friendship, i was not just her only Son, but also doubled as her only Child. I was told that It had taken She and Dad 13 years of intense prayers and fasting, numerous rigorous medical check-ups and uncountable conventional drugs and herbal concoctions before She could conceive me. From the pictures of my naming ceremony, it was evident that everyone in the neighbourhood had showed up for the lavish occasion. So, growing up without any siblings, and with the only company i had being mum who was a fulltime house wife and Dad who was all over the world chasing Money and a budding political career, Mum and i had grown to be very fond of each other.

Mum as usual demanded to know the state of my well being, i replied her in an excited tone that i was fine. I guess she must have noticed the change in the tone of my voice, anyways she said she hoped no one was disturbing me at School, then suddenly asked if i had been receiving any strange calls of recent. Baaam! How could mum have known? I suspected something fishy was going on, so i asked her 'hope everything is fine' she replied in the affirmative. Although i was not satisfied with her response, i decided that if there was going to be a clash of any sorts, i would rather take sides with Mum. That night, i told mum about my second Mum, Mrs Nkechi, after my long comprehensive narrative, it seemed that mum felt exactly the way i felt the first time i heard the story too, her voice wavered whenever she punctuated my narrative with 'are you sure' or 'then what happened', upon the closure of my story, Mum could barely muster a faint 'Good night Son'. It seemed that whatever it was that was going on was even bigger than i had imagined.

I had disclosed the name of the restaurant where i was scheduled to meet Mrs Nkechi to Mum, but i never imagined that She would fly in all the way from Abuja to Lagos on such short notice. Mrs Nkechi looked as beautiful as her sonorous voice implied, she was of average height, light skinned and gape-toothed, she wore the smile of someone who had made it into heaven after a life well spent. We had just finished the pleasantries and was making the sort of small talk which would eventually lead to more serious discussions which had brought us there when Mum sudenly burst into the restaurant in her full glamour, she was the sort of person who commanded a presence and true to her character, all eyes moved to the door as she made her entrance and carefully scanned the seats for any sign of me, a single look at her face would tell one that she was not here for a UN peace talk, this was war.

Practically ignored, i watched both Women scream down their lungs at each other, different obscenities flew like rocks from one feminine voice to the other. Then i started hearing what i should never have heard. Mum was clapping her hands frantically with neck outstretched and her back slightly bent forward, she shouted the words "are you not the one who left your 8- day old baby in a motherless babies home to be treated like trash and ultimately turn into a street Urchin? Now you are here claiming Mama pikin. Come and carry him now let me see" Her opponent on the other hand retorted the words "Bloody Barren Woman, am i the one who cursed your womb to never carry a baby? Leave my Child for me o, i have come for him and nothing would ever take him away from me again". I sat there rooted to the ground like an Iroko tree, the strange things i heard were making me weak and sickly.

So i was an adopted child all this while, yet no one told me? So this Woman here abandoned me as a baby at an orphanage 17 years ago and is coming back now to claim a full grown man? So Mum had actually rescued me from the hell i would have faced as another faceless child in an orphanage full of Children?

I felt very sad and annoyed as both Women burst out and began wailing, both of them together with the other 70 pairs of eyes in the restaurant turned to me as if i were the only one who could resolve this fracas.
I was torn in between two Women, one a mother and the other one someone who knew what being a mother should be like.
I rose up from my seat and embraced my Mother. They say blood is thicker than water, but i choose who to call blood and my adoptee Mother was my Blood by choice.
I felt very sad as i watched my biological mother, make a feeble attempt to wipe her tears with the back of her hands.

The Next week, we all appeared in Court, it seemed i had been adjudged incapable of choosing sides, a judge was going to decide whose Child i really were and whose property i would become. The Judge walked into the court room and we all rose to our feet, knowing fully well, that the next time we rise, there would have emerged a losing side.