The Wife ESCAPED!

Caro had run for about an hour through the light bushes behind Chief’s house. So far, she had not found the way very smooth. There were creeping plants, fallen trees and hollows in the ground, but after every fall, she would get up and continue the journey without looking back. Her goal was to get out of anyone’s reach before daybreak and passing through the bushes was the shortest cut to her very first destination: the local town hall.

She arrived there tired and breathless, dirty and bruised from her many falls, but her senses were intact. It was almost pitch dark, but she knew every inch of the community, having hawked to every nook and cranny practically all her life. The town hall would be her hotel for most part of the night, so she set about doing a little recon of the place.NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

She walked around the solitary building and found no one hanging around and perceived no smell of cigarette or ‘Mary Jane’. Then she stepped in cautiously so as not to wake others who had already taken up residence there for the night. The place was always locked, but a small window at one side served as entry point for night occupants.

Caro would not go through that window. That was a risk too big to take: being boxed on all sides. She would stay outside instead. Walking into the corridor that was partly fenced with a large balustrade, she sat down on the floor, her back to the wall. She pulled her knees up to her chest, extended her frock to cover her ankles and tucked it tightly between her legs. Sitting as she was, wedged between the low balustrade and the wall of the main hall, with an exit point just a few feet away, she went to sleep, largely protected from mosquitoes by her long-sleeved frock.

***

At 4am prompt, Caro opened her eyes. She had not been awakened by anyone or anything other than habit. All her life, she had been raised to wake up at exactly that time in order to do housework and then, hawk kerosene and other items before going off to school.

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, stretched herself and yawned. She got to her feet and stretched again, ready to wake her siblings so they would join her to sweep the kitchen, wash the plates, and begin fetching water before their mother would start distributing the early morning blows and knocks. But oh!… it hit her like a shock wave and she almost staggered from the sudden realization. She wasn’t at home, was she? She looked beside her and none of her siblings were there. She wasn’t even running from home, she was running from her husband’s home. Then there was no time to lose!

It was still dark, very dark. Caro hurried out of the townhall and at a brisk run, commenced her journey – the second phase of it. She knew that soon, it would be wake up time for Chief, but if he didn’t stir, none of his wives or children would dare to disturb him. And if in a few hours, he still wasn’t up and about, there would be some grumbling, but it would be noon before anyone would risk his/her hide to go knock on that door and by that time, Caro would be in Lagos or almost there at any rate.

She ran fast, not going through the bush this time, but through the open town. Her way was clear because those living after the town hall were mostly reclusive farmers who paid little attention to anything even if they were to see the Devil himself riding through the town on a war steed.

In less than an hour, Caro could sight the only motorpark in the the community, but she had another pit stop to make. Veering away from the course that led to the park, she took the bush path leading to her temporary destination. She could feel the dew and cobwebs clinging to her as she brushed the plants aside, walking carefully to avoid stepping on unwanted creatures that the place was notorious for.

In a few minutes, she saw what she was looking for: a small lake totally surrounded by dense bushes. Looking quickly around, she went to the water’s edge and pulled off one of her slippers to disturb the calm water. The surface at first and then deeper. After that warning to the unknown and probably dangerous creatures lurking underwater, she proceeded to wash herself. She could have loved a good swim, but not only was she short of time, but she had also heard rumors of the presence of alligtors and large snakes in the lake. So, limiting herself to scooping up the water with her hands, she washed her face, arms, neck, hair and legs before taking a quick pee.

Feeling ready, she dusted off her clothes the twigs, cobwebs and brambles before setting off for the road again. She was just in time. The last early morning bus heading for Lagos was just about to leave. She caught it ahead of a fat woman who had spent crucial seconds trying to find out if she was the daughter of Mama Caro.

***

Caro arrived in Lagos in the late afternoon and she was exhausted by the long journey, the switching of vehicles and the horrible seating arrangement in the bus. She had almost been squeezed to death between two adult women and had to gain some space by occasionally using her elbows on their ribs. They did not complain, but their glares told of their dislike for her strategy. But she cared less.

The thought of Lagos had been the thought of something grand and beautiful, but now that she was here, Caro was nothing short of disappointed. The dirt, the traffic gridlock, the crowd of constantly moving people and the noisy touts told a very different story from those she had been told. In fact, she was heading to meet the storyteller and she would ask her why she had deceived her and everyone else in the village, but that would be after she must have managed to extricate the hem of her frock from whatever was holding on to it as she tried to exit the bus.

“Please wait o!”, she shouted frantically, but the driver was already moving ahead, the vehicle slowly picking up speed. The conductor himself was much unconcerned about her plight, instead he was more focused on wooing new passengers. She was lucky that none of her legs had touched the ground yet or she would be dragged on the ground as the vehicle moved.

With one hand on the side of the bus, she roughly jerked her frock away from the sharp part of the iron seat that it had hooked on to, tearing off a little part of the material in the process. But that was a small price to pay for not missing her bus stop. With a calculated jump, she exited the moving vehicle and managed to hit the ground running.

“Useless idiots,” she cursed, after she had caught her breath, as she inspected the torn part of her dress. Then she lifted it up, fished into the pocket of the little shorts she wore underneath and pulled out the small white paper stored there. She had earlier memorized its contents, but the happenings of the last few minutes were enough to make one forget even his/her name.

Caro was sure that she was at the right bus stop. There was the street’s name up there on a pole – the only good thing she had seen of Lagos so far. But being at the bus stop was still another problem on its own.

The entire place was one big noisy market. There was an untarred dirt road that led to God knew where, but from her point of view at the bus stop, she could see that the road was not only far from straight, but it also had some branches which people were constantly taking. Joining the throng would be nothing short of madness. She was not in any way familiar with this environment and she could easily get lost. She had to ask for help. But perhaps she needed a little something to spur her on?

She heard the angry blast of a danfo horn and she jumped out of the way just in time as the driver maneuvered his rickety contraption of a vehicle into a temporary parking spot, throwing curses at her as he went. His conductor had already jumped down and was shouting the locations his bus would reach and go through. Before she could fully recover her composure, she received a sharp push from a middle-aged man whose path she had been blocking. In fact, she was still blocking the path of many other people. The solution was to keep moving and keep her eyes and ears open.

At first, she stood still to allow people pass before moving on, but after several pushes from the back and sides, she finally learned to move like everyone else in the throng. When she eventually reached the roasted plantain seller a few metres away, she had spent about half an hour, a journey that would take any other person in the area only a few seconds. But in that half hour, she had learnt what would have taken some people at least a day to learn. She was from a crazy environment herself, the biggest difference was in the population and the density, but adjusting was not going to be much of a problem.

“Good afternoon, ma,” she greeted the woman selling the roasted plantain, groundnuts and a few other items like soft drinks in a cooler.

“Kil’efe {*what do you want*}?”, the woman asked, vigorously fanning the hot coals she was using for her roasting.

“Eh?”, Caro blurted in total lack of comprehension.

“What you wan buy?”, the woman repeated in broken English.

“Oh. I don’t want to buy anything. I just want to find out where this place is.” Caro hurriedly unfolded her little white paper containing the address of her mother’s cousin preparatory to showing it to the woman. But the plantain seller, seeing that the girl had no intention whatsoever to buy anything from her, promptly hissed and turned away.

“Tunde!”, she called at the top of her lungs. “Tunde!”, she called again. And still, no response. “Lo pe egbon e wa {*go call your elder brother*},” she said to a little chubby calabash-bellied child seated on the ground beside her. “Sare sare {*hurry hurry*}.”

Caro watched as the child darted off on the errand, hoping that the woman had some intention of helping her, but the look she received when the woman finally looked her way left her in no doubt that she had to try somewhere else. Tunde was obviously being called for a reason that had nothing to do with her situation.