I want to tell her that I can't pull her down. I want to tell her that she has to let go of my hand in order to swim. I want to tell her that she must live her own life. But I sense she already knows that these options are open to her. And that she, too, has made her choice. - Tabitha Suzuma, Forbidden.
Read Part One of No Man’s Land Here.
If the sins of the father don’t visit the child, then the sins of the child will visit the father. There was truly only one woman that I have ever loved. And she was Haniya’s mother. Is there anything I wouldn’t have done for her? Including renouncing my religion and tribe for her sake. But that wasn’t enough, the love we shared wasn’t even enough, although it was strong enough to light up the hearts of a million people, it was strained and wrought under the consistent influence of the differences we shared – tribe and religion. The shame that I hadn’t done enough to protect and stand with the woman, I loved is ultimately what drove me to silence. Even when Haniya constantly pressured me about her mother from childhood to adulthood, my shame had kept my mouth shut. Afterall, what sort of father tells his daughter how he had failed to protect her mother? Not me, Ibrahim Gbadamosi.
(Past: Twenty-One Years Ago)
Amarachi was beautiful. She was a star that lit up a thousand galaxies. Although he had been a married man, with kids at the time, she had almost drove him insane with her beauty. He wasn’t ashamed to say he had not loved his wife or any other person at the time. But with Amarachi he felt genuine love and affection for the first time. She worked as the secretary to a friend his, the Late Fred Buchi. Since the first day he saw her sitting by her desk, head bent, her delicate hands rapturously fiddling with the keys of the typewriter; he knew there was something unique about her. Since then, he always found reasons to visit Fred’s office, although it didn’t take Fred long to discover his true mission. Fred introduced them one evening at the club house, and they immediately became inseparable. She was everything that complimented him; smart, opinionated, athletic, soft-spoken, and cool headed. At the time he was scared about their relationship. It was fear that made him hide his marital status. The fear that he was going to lose her once she knew, he was married.
But she knew. The day he eventually told her, she looked at him, and spoke softly as she always did, dragging his first name, Ibra---him I am aware, that you are a married man with kids. He felt choked, he couldn’t understand why she never confronted him about it all the months they were together. But that was Amarachi, her ways were totally different from the ways of anyone else. Well after the confession, their romance blossomed. Although they never spoke about marriage, they enjoyed the sort of arrangement they shared. She had his heart and he had hers. They practically lived together.
The day she told him she was pregnant was one of the happiest days of his life. He was finally ready to get out of his marriage. He just needed to file for a divorce and leave his wife. His kids were his kids, and he would take care of them, but he wanted to leave the marriage he was trapped in. The marriage that was thrust upon him by his relatives. This marriage had obstructed a few things in his life, and right now it was obstructing him from the most important aspect—being with the love of his life. So, he concluded, the marriage had to go. The pregnancy only sealed the deal. Although, Amarachi had warned him about leaving his wife due to their affair and told him that it was impossible for them to be together officially, he had been naïve enough to assume that somehow it would be possible. He was wrong.
Divorcing his wife wasn’t only tougher than he had anticipated, it was a full-blown war. Both his family and his wife’s family had simply rejected his offer. They had threatened him and by extension threatened Amarachi. She was constantly caught in between the fights and on many occasions some relatives had gone to her home and office to threaten and insult her. The entire family had reached a consensus that they’d rather he married a second wife who was a Yoruba/Hausa Muslim than an Igbo lady. He was heartbroken and worse still, Amarachi blamed him, she had warned him, but he was too stubborn to believe her. Eventually she vanished. No one knew where she had gone, not even Fred.
For the next months after she vanished, he lived in agony. He couldn’t eat nor sleep, just consistently drenched in alcohol. Then one day he received a long-distance call from an acquittance informing him to come to the east, that Amarachi was spotted there. Like a mad horse he raced out of the house, jumped into his car and with great hope, drove to the east in search of his true love.
He stood outside her apartment for hours, pleading with her to allow him enter. She bluntly refused telling him to forget about her and the baby. Then a terrible downpour began, and the door opened. Drenched and shaking from the cold, she pulled him towards her warm embrace, they spent seconds crying into each other’s arms. The next morning, they became inseparable again. Since she refused to travel back with him, he remained with her in the east. He was proudly under her spell.
Life in the east was amazing. The smell of the red soil when the first rain drops touched the ground was exhilarating. The food, the culture, the people, they all represented the cluster of eccentricities that couldn’t be explained but instead be felt and experienced. The happiest days of his life were those months he spent in the east. He also met everyone that meant anything to Amarachi, and they all treated him with love and respect which contrasted with how his entire family treated her. There was an Igbo proverb her father always said to him; Mmiri mara ugo sara ugo ahụ (The rain fell on the eagle and also bathed the eagle). That phrase gave him great insights of how blessed he was. He became a part of their family at that moment.
The day Amarachi went into labour rain fell terribly. The kind of rain that brought darkness with it. Even with the flood and fallen trees dividing the road, they managed to make it to the hospital in one piece. Immediately Amarachi was taken to the delivery room, he was with her. The labour was torturous, he couldn’t bear see her in so much pain and difficulty. She was fragile, seeing her that way made him weak and sick. After six hours of extreme labour, Haniya came forth. A beautiful child. She took all the attributes of her mother. At this time Amarachi was already too weak, she had slipped into a doze. When she opened her eyes, he gave her their daughter, she held to her weakly, kissing her before passing her back to him and beckoned for him to come closer, he did. She whispered to his ears; Gba--damo-si, love her, our daughter more than you’ve ever loved me.
A few minutes later, Amarachi closed her eyes for the last time.
Heartbroken as he was by her passing. He received a phone call from home. His wife and kids were involved in a car accident, and none survived.
He immediately travelled back home to bury what was left of his family. A few weeks after he came back east to get Haniya. Together they started a new life.
(Present Day: Twenty-One years After)
Alahji Gbadamosi woke up from the coma. He found himself in a hospital, saddled with different lines piercing both hands. Haniya was with him, a worried look scrambled across her face. Although he couldn’t speak or talk because of the stroke, the coma had given his mind some time to recalibrate. He knew what he had to do once he got his voice and motion back. He knew that it was time to fulfil the promise he made to Amarachi when she was dying twenty-one years ago. For the sake of the love, he had for their daughter, he must love and accept whoever she loved.
To Be Continued.
Great read, as always!