Life was unpredictable until Egbon swept her off her feet like the giant walls of Jericho never meant to be rebuilt. When she fell in love, it was a painful but educational experience. And, it was not her fault, for the young man was Egbon Makinde, an idol of women all over the campus. At twenty-four he had a fearful masculine beauty, genuine charm. A true fisherman. But Rosemary knew she was just a lesser partner. When they had dates, Egbon would always call her to say he would be a bit late and then would arrive two hours later. Sometimes he would cancel altogether. She was only his fallback position for the night. Also, when they made love, he would always insist she use cocaine with him, which was fun but turned her brain into such mush. She could not work the next few days and what she did write in class, she distrusted. She realised that she was becoming what she detested more than anything else in the world; a woman whose whole life depended on the whims of a man.
He was the son of the minister. She was in love and, for one of the few times in her life, terribly unhappy.
When Egbon called to say he would be thirty minutes late, she told him, “Don’t bother babe, I’m leaving your house.”
There was a pause, and when he answered, he didn’t seem surprised.
“We part friends I hope,” he said. “I really enjoyed your company.”
Rosemary hung up. For the first time, she didn’t want to remain friends at the end of an affair. What really bothered her was her lack of intelligence. It was obvious that all his behaviour was a trick to make her go away, that it had taken her too long to take the hint. She moped around, but in a week, she found she didn’t miss being treated like trash. It was a pleasure to get back to class with a head clear of cocaine, but she missed the idea of love.
She got herself two waist beads from Baba Saura’s Shrine. Life was once again predictable, but this time with Egbon. She didn’t sweep him off his feet like he did; she entrapped him in her web. A month later, she got pregnant with him. News got to the university’s management when she slumped during lectures, that one Rosemary, a student of Mass Communication, was tested pregnant in the sick bay.
“How could you be so stupid?” Egbon told her two nights after their expulsion.
“See what movies have done to you,” he added. She was mortified.
“Don’t talk to me like that. I didn’t get myself pregnant…” she broke down. Her father told her never to step foot in his house. He warned her mother not to reach out to her too. The minister had publicly disowned Egbon on air.
After exhausting the options open to him, Egbon decided it was time to meet Baba Saura. He was going to prove to their parents, the university, and the whole of Kaduna that love is a powerful force that cannot be subdued. Baba Saura had asked him to bring a black duck for application.
“In fact, make we just go ahead,” Baba Saura said. The duck was robust. It pleased him.
“When do I start getting money?” Egbon demanded. Baba Saura laughed in bits.
“You never make the main sacrifice,” Egbon was losing his patience. That duck already cost him a week of site work.
“For you to fit earn the money, your girlfriend go die as she wan born but no worry your pikin go dey alright.”
“Never, I cannot do that. I love her. She’s the reason I am doing this. You can go to hell.” He didn’t leave without carrying the duck.
“If you no come back complete the ritual, na three of una go kpai.” Baba Saura informed him.
He resorted to site work with his little to no experience. But he knew how to hand over bricks to the masons. He was tired. She was tired. But love must win, he reminded himself.
“How can you be away the whole day but return with just one-two?” she demanded, obviously offended. The other day she had told him that he was too lazy.
“If you don’t acknowledge my efforts, I will dump you as most men do. I am not the first, and I won’t be the last.”
“I double dare you, Egbon.” She called his name for the first time in her life. He understood what she felt, but she was a child in thoughts. He wouldn’t let her words fuel him to fail love.
“Hey, I am not used to this kind of suffering too, but just be more understanding. We would be fine.” He said. “And, please never call me Egbon, what happened to babe?” He flashed her a smile. Butterflies fluttered in her belly. He was sweet, she acknowledged but their situation wasn’t.
When she was eight months pregnant, she began to nag heavily for his failure in getting her shawarma, chips and egg, every morning before he left home to scavenge for chicken change. Their off-campus rent was expiring in a month. He went back to Baba Saura some days after with two ducks to ask for forgiveness.
“No vex Baba, I don gree.”
Baba Saura had sized him up with disgust.
“Big English don finish for your mouth abi? I cannot do that. I cannot do that.” Baba Saura released a hiss.
“Everything get e consequence. For the time wey you take, your pikin go only get him basic needs. You no dey allowed to give am money carelessly. Na you cause am.”
It was Egbon’s turn to look at him with disgust.
“No problem. Wetin be the next thing?”
“You go come collect any food wey she ask you from my side.”
“Hmm, I hear you Baba.”
Their love life got better. She was happy with him but he was depressed for her. Each time she ate from the shrine, he’d cry and she would hold him, urging him not to cry, that his best was enough. He lost sleep the night she informed him their baby was nine months old.
“Wow, wow. That’s great news. The idea of losing you stings. I won’t lie.”
“Babe just chill, I will be fine. Our baby would be fine,” she said all sprawled on the medium sized mattress. Egbon was seated on the floor, his back against the wall.
“I have a confession to make,” Egbon said. It was clear that he had to open up to her if he would ever feel any peace inside of him. What was the essence of continuance if he would keep a secret from his own person; the only human being that wished him well in life. Unlike the foremen who deducted a thousand naira from his wages, the management of his school condemned him as though what he did wasn’t a common thing—Baba Saura who was not only a medicine man but a wicked man.
“You have gotten another girl pregnant abi?” Rosemary demanded. He looked at her irritated. The other day she had woken him up to get her well water to drink. He stretched his arm to get a sachet of water from underneath the bed.
“I said well water. It is what the baby wants,” she said as she sat up.
“You have suddenly become wicked and annoying,” he said as he got out to fetch water from the well outside.
How he managed to stay with her was surprising to him. On an off chance he pardoned her with the fact that pregnancy was mostly like that.
“What’s your problem? I mean, where are you getting your guts from?”
“So, I don’t have the liberty to ask questions now?”
“I didn’t get any girl pregnant. Forget about it.”
“I won’t beg you to tell me. You’re not the only one with pride.”
He banged the door, unturned a bench at the corner and sat on it, deep in thought for what seemed like an hour.
“Ahhhhhhh,” Rosemary cried. “Ahhhhh.” He ran into the room. Furrows on his forehead, his countenance masked with worry.
“It is our baby. It is our baby. I am coming, baby.” He bolted out.
The women in the neighbourhood were with her. One was boiling water, one was fanning her and reciting verses, and the last one was urging her to push.
“She is tired and if she doesn’t push, we might lose both of them,” the woman announced.
“Baby, please push. Remember Maldives, how you have always yearned to go on a vacation there. Baby, please.”
“I am trying. I want to be alive for you. Mmmmm!” she pushed. The baby cried softly, gracing the room with his presence.
“We made it! Baby, we made it.” Egbon jumped, did some clapping, and then embraced Rosemary, but she had fallen asleep.
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Read – The Purple Jar – A Short Story by Tracy Egbele, Nigeria
