“She’s the one”, the quiet admission of the elderly mother and grandmother who was serving as a midwife for this birth was met with silence. Those few words were enough to silence the screams of both mother and child. ” Is she really?”, the young woman lying on the bed covered in sweat and blood asked with a shaky voice which spoke of hours of crying and screaming. Without a word, the older woman brought the child to her, turning its hand to show the mark on the wrist. The sight of the mark brought back memories of the burial ceremony. Tears she didn’t know had stopped were streaming down her face again. At the burial, they had said the rituals would keep her from coming back, and if not, the mark would make her think twice about it, yet here she was. She wasn’t sure whether her tears were of joy at the return of her daughter, or of the pain of the departure she knew would come much too soon. She reached for her daughter and her mother handed the bloody child to her wordlessly; she could feel the disapproval oozing from her. She ignored her and took the child. “Aduke”, she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she stroked the child’s cheek.
Aduke stared at her mother. She was sorry to cause her so much pain, but she had to return. She was lucky to have been given another chance. If she had to return again, she would ask to be born to another woman somewhere far away. She had caused this one far too much pain. However, she couldn’t think of that now. She had a task to accomplish and she had been reborn for it.
Read Somewhere New – A Flash Fiction by Josephine O. Attafuah, Ghana
