Hades on Terra Firma
She stands in the door-way casting an abysmal gaze around her shabby surroundings with eyes re-signed and devoid of Life.
Every new day that she enters in-to is another reluctant foray in-to a regretful existence which is simply coasting to its predictable end.
Standing in front of her, barely above her knee is an impoverished toddler experiencing the same consistent feeling which he has come to associate with the normalcy of his life - Hunger. This is a word that really should not be associated with a micro-human of a certain age whose world should be full of frivolities, nonchalance and absolute selfishness.
He has no idea that this is not the norm.
She wishes every-day as she looks at his bowed head that she had aborted him so she could be young and free again.
She looks down at the toddler and sees him looking at his feet contemplating. Love (that conquers all darkness) comes flooding in-to her heart once again. This was her son - Moshood jnr.
She may have made a colossal error in judgement when she got pregnant, thinking that will earn the love of Moshood, the welder that lived two streets away whom she had had an amorous affair with. But, Junior was here and she could not help but love him with that in-Explicable love a Mother has for her off-Shoot. She remembered the danfo bus where they had their usual rendezvous in evenings. The bus be-longed to his friend, who let them have access to it from time to time to ensure they had privacy.
And so it went, on and on and on. She thought it was Love till she told him she was pregnant. She had been pregnant a few times be-fore. And she went through a tedious process involving the consumption of a full bottle of local gin and and a lot of bleeding from the nether regions.
This was an experience best left to the imagination.
So, this time when she got pregnant, she told Moshood, and he said she should get rid of it be-cause he was not ready to be a dada. She would've as well, as she was desperate to keep Moshood, unfortunately, the herbalist that lives in the same "face me, I face you" (rooms in the slum where the rooms are so small and close together, that there is little or no privacy and they share a common bath-room) quaters told her not to.
So, Iya Moshood and junior…
(to be continued….)
Every new day that she enters in-to is another reluctant foray in-to a regretful existence which is simply coasting to its predictable end.
Standing in front of her, barely above her knee is an impoverished toddler experiencing the same consistent feeling which he has come to associate with the normalcy of his life - Hunger. This is a word that really should not be associated with a micro-human of a certain age whose world should be full of frivolities, nonchalance and absolute selfishness.
She wishes every-day as she looks at his bowed head that she had aborted him so she could be young and free again.
She looks down at the toddler and sees him looking at his feet contemplating. Love (that conquers all darkness) comes flooding in-to her heart once again. This was her son - Moshood jnr.
She may have made a colossal error in judgement when she got pregnant, thinking that will earn the love of Moshood, the welder that lived two streets away whom she had had an amorous affair with. But, Junior was here and she could not help but love him with that in-Explicable love a Mother has for her off-Shoot. She remembered the danfo bus where they had their usual rendezvous in evenings. The bus be-longed to his friend, who let them have access to it from time to time to ensure they had privacy.
And so it went, on and on and on. She thought it was Love till she told him she was pregnant. She had been pregnant a few times be-fore. And she went through a tedious process involving the consumption of a full bottle of local gin and and a lot of bleeding from the nether regions.
This was an experience best left to the imagination.
So, this time when she got pregnant, she told Moshood, and he said she should get rid of it be-cause he was not ready to be a dada. She would've as well, as she was desperate to keep Moshood, unfortunately, the herbalist that lives in the same "face me, I face you" (rooms in the slum where the rooms are so small and close together, that there is little or no privacy and they share a common bath-room) quaters told her not to.
So, Iya Moshood and junior…
(to be continued….)
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