I was only increasing in size, but I was too young to catch up all that she wanted me to learn. There was really a big difference between growing in height and knowing the ways of the clan. I was growing; sure, but there were few things I was still supposed to learn. She wanted me to learn fast because she was in dire need of hands to help her. She had for long carried the load of the family all alone and it seemed to her that we were not really making an effort to grow and help her. She bore the burden of the house alone and it kept her always in a very bad mood.
In time, the harvesting season arrived and I was to help as much as I could. And I did. During this time of the year I helped practically in all the farm work and I sometimes wondered what I had not done to make Mother happy. I was the only one more capable to help. My younger ones were not too helpful in anything. We worked all day to take home our farm produce. It did not take long and it passed. I felt very settled and contented, food was in variety as never before and sufficient to the taste of everyone. We stayed around home almost every day and enjoyed the company of ourselves.
CHAPTER TEN
Unbreakable
The sun had set and the usual evening breeze that came between sunset and darkness was absent. The earth was full of life and every feature of the village life was part of the evening. The whole village looked calm and fresh. It was drizzling fresh and absorbing like harmattan wind and the light showers of the early year rain.
My Mothers’ cry broke the silence of that evening. I could not remember the last time she cried and I was asking myself what could have gone wrong again. I sat and watched the light shower outside, noting how the water dropped from our thatched roof after the long downpour. It had rained loudly and heavily when it first started and then stopped. I had carefully chosen seat where even though if I slept off I would not be harmed. I looked at Mother and noticed she had stopped crying but was now lost in thought, looking into the darkness. She had dried her tears. For a long while I stayed, she sat with her chin cupped in her hand. Like other young Mothers, she had found herself in the morass of formidable challenges, tough decisions and uncertain prospect. She could not go. She could not remarry. She could not abandon us for another man for we were still young. Her covenant with father was unbreakable and the memory fastened to her heart. It was now that it came close to my mind that it was part of her silence. Many men wanted her at any cost because of her beauty and hardworking nature, but she chose to stay.
Like many other nights, she had tried easing her pain slowly and alone. Those days, she cried always, even during the long hours of darkness. That very night, I never went close, for I noticed that she wanted to carry all her burden and sorrow alone. The children had played to bed and the darkness descended the earth almost in an eye blink and the dull weather made the darkness impenetrable. The fireflies in their tiny harsh light went about and increased the volume of the darkness.
The unusual loneliness could not be interpreted to mean anything other than her usual way. Lately, she did not often talk about the shock of losing father; the denial, the fear, the danger that would mark the days ahead; the time when I and my younger one would increase in our demands and give her more burdens was fast approaching. Was she prepared? Hardly do I know.
I sat up in a slow silent walk and approached her from the back. I never thought it wise to continue staying outside again and not sharing this pain with her. I was not mindful of the darkness, only that I needed Mother to come in.
“Mama,” I called trying to talk to her.
She did not answer.
“Mama,” I tried again, touching her lightly on the shoulder.
She slowly turned and looked at me in the face.
“Mama it is late now and we must go to bed.”
“What are you doing at this time of the night outside? It’s cold, go in. I am coming.” She said.
“No mama. You must come with me. The night is cold, dark and fearful and you should not continue, please.”