“I’ve hated you since the first time you entered our class, Miss Zira”.
Mariam’s words, spoken in broken Hausa, were becoming heavier and her eyes
dropped more by the minute as she struggled through the pain.
Zirachi Jideofor, who was seated right beside her, simply smiled, squeezed the girl’s
hand and urged her to go on, all the while terrified and praying to God that the more
Mariam spoke, the lesser the urge to cry out.
“You were the new NYSC Corper and you were so beautiful that all the other girls
were always talking about you. I never saw why they all looked up to you. Had they
all forgotten that you were just like the other Corpers who would come and then go
back to Lagos?”. She paused in her tirade, clutching at her stomach and moaning
softly.
A sudden scream and loud boom from right outside the dark laboratory made Zirachi
cringe and jump.
As the scream turned into a thud, a chilling sensation ran through her body when she
realized that the sound had come from one of her JSS3 students.
Oh, God. Those terrorists had just killed a little girl.
Oh God
Oh God!
Following that thought was an even more terrifying one. At that very moment, it all
finally dawned on Zirachi.
The fact that heavily armed terrorists had invaded the school in the very middle of
the day. The fact that she’d run for dear life in sheer panic when she’d seen wailing
children being skyrocketed into vans; that she’d suddenly found herself right here with
a 16 year old student who had hated her from the very moment she’d stepped into the
school, hiding beneath a wooden table in the rundown part of the school’s laboratory.
It finally dawned on her that she could die right then and there. And no single person
would know.
Not even her own parents all the way back home in Lagos who had strongly warned
her against taking up her Youth Service in Borno state in the very first place.
It dawned on her that the only way to escape alive was if they both kept as quiet as
possible until the terrorists were all gone, a feat which was going to be highly
impossible at that very moment.
Mariam suddenly cried out loud again. Zirachi immediately jumped into autopilot
mode, squeezing the girl’s hand. Imbibing a false cheerfulness to cover up her own
terrified heartbeat, she said:
“It’s okay. I’m right here. Everything’s going to be okay. Why don’t you tell me more
about why you hate me, eh?. Or tell me about yourself?. What of your family?. What
is your husband like?”.
The next few minutes saw Mariam drowsily talking about her 45 year old husband,
Alhaji Umar, while trying to endure the pain silently.
Through blurry eyes, she told Zirachi about how her parents were poor and the only
way to take care of her family as the eldest child had been to get married to a rich
man. She told her about how much she’d prayed to Allah for several days to give her
a boy, simply so that no daughter of hers would get sold off to any man like she had
been.
She rambled on and on in that dark cocoon while Zirachi listened and simply
encouraged her soothingly.
She patted Mariam’s hands and cleaned her sweaty hair, all the while seething
inwardly; all the while trying to hide the fact that her whole being had shifted right
then and there while listening to a 16 year old girl who had suffered through what no
child her age ever should have.
Zirachi held tight unto her hands throughout each new pain that manifested on her
face.
And then suddenly, water soaked through her sky blue school gown.
When Mariam uttered six new words, Zirachi somehow knew that her life as she
knew it was over.
“Miss Zira, the baby is coming”.
******
Stars. Bountiful, endless stars.
Mariam could count them dancing right underneath her eyelids. They felt so
peaceful and surreal that she wanted to just sleep and never wake up.
But, something seemed very wrong. Someone kept drawing at her shoulders and
nagging at her.
“Wake up, Mariam. Oh God. Please, you have to wake up. You can’t die. You can’t
lose your baby like this”.
At those last words, something snapped and Mariam’s brain woke up.
My baby. My poor son!.
The thought didn’t finish forming in her head before she felt a massive wave of pain
slice through her body.
Her belly literally felt like it was splitting in two. She opened her mouth on a
scream, but that same voice that had awoken her shoved something in between her
lips.
“Bite down, Mariam. Please, I’m begging you!. Bite down. You cannot utter a word.
If you speak, they will kill us. They will kill your son!”.
No!. Not my son!.
With newfound adrenaline, she braced her upper body on her forearms, bit down on
the wood, and pushed with all her might, even as she felt the wood biting painfully
into her mouth.
Even when she felt her eyes rolling to the back of her head, she pushed. Even when
her lips literally began to split in two and dewy red blood gushed through the sides
because she couldn’t cry out, Mariam pushed and pushed.
And then finally, he fell off her stomach.
There was a sudden exhale, a laugh, and then that same voice cried out.
“It’s a girl”.
“What??”.
“Mariam, it’s a girl!”.
Mariam wasn’t listening. A sudden ringing was inside her head. A girl. A girl. A
girl…
All sorts of thoughts ran through her head. A girl.
A girl who Alhaji would have to sell off. A girl who would grow up to be just like
her. And so, Mariam shook her head vigorously.
“No. No. Get her away from me”. She murmured. The pounding in her head was
getting louder and louder. Her vision was blurry.
“Get her away from me”. Louder…
“Mariam, what are you saying?”. Louder…
“Take her away”. And then, just before the darkness took over her, the voice showed
itself and she saw Miss Zira standing over her.
*****
Five years studying Biomedical Engineering had not prepared her for this.
The two additional years ASUU strike had gifted her had not prepared her for this.
These thoughts kept rolling through Zirachi’s head as she administered First Aid to
a 16 year old new mother who had just fainted in her arms.
As she tended to Mariam, her hands visibly shook.
She tried to dispel the memory of Mariam denouncing her own child. She tried to
dispel the fear running through her veins at the fact that this girl was in dire condition
and she had to get them out of that room fast before either of them died.
The baby made a gurgling sound and Zirachi turned to her.
Instantly, her entire being shifted. The wee thing was such a tiny, precious baby. She
had barely made a sound after slipping from Mariam’s womb.
When it happened, Zirachi had feared the worst, but had later on simply been
grateful she hadn’t made a sound.
Suddenly, she carried the baby in her arms. For several minutes, she stared at that
baby. A silent resolution came into her heart. An inner strength that she had never
before felt. Startled at that feeling, she nearly jumped.
This, then, was what Motherhood felt like.
Still in shock over her newfound feelings, she felt a tight tug on her arm. She turned
around to see Mariam’s slight frame holding her shirt in a death grip.
“Please—take care of my daughter, Miss Zira. Please, y-you ha-have to s-save her”.
And then, her grip loosened.
For several minutes, Zirachi looked on in silence.
Then, he finally burst into silent tears. Tears for her life. Tears for Mariam who was
simply a victim of the country’s irresponsibility.
And she cried for the new baby in her arms who was so innocent of everything going
on, but yet, already knew too much. She cried and cried. Even when she put the baby
to Mariam’s naked breast to suckle, the tears kept falling.
A sudden sound made her head snap up. The door to the Lab opened slowly and a
figure appeared.
They’ve caught us…
Zirachi expected a heavy bout of terror to choke her chest again. She thought the
terror would make her tremble and beg for her life. But Zirachi found herself doing
none of those things.
In truth, as she held the baby in her arms, she simply looked up at the young black
boy holding a gun to her face. And she felt nothing. She was numb.
With her eyes, she simply said “Kill me already if you want to”.
With her lips, she kept mute.
The boy looked at the three of them laying on the ground for several minutes, each
minute feeling like a hundred. And then he raised his gun, aimed it at her and said
something that shocked her to her bones, something she’d never expected.
“RUN!”.
Years later
Zirachi’s snarling scream bounced her off the bed with such force that the wall
clock fell to the floor in pieces. Her heart pounded a furious rhythm in her chest that
she feared it would come off her body any minute from then.
Moments later, she was still visibly shaking from the force of her scream. Her
sweaty palms were squeezed so tightly and she looked around in fear.
Where am I?. Where is Mariam??
As her bleary eyes took in the dark room and the lush wardrobe, her arms finally
relaxed and her eyes closed shut. It had been a dream. She wasn’t back in Borno state
any more. She wasn’t—
“Mom!”
Zirachi glanced at the entrance of the room just in time to see a lithe body fall on
hers.
“Oh my God. Are you okay?. I heard you screaming and I was so terrified. What
happened to you?. Are you hurt?”.
Jocelyn didn’t wait for her reply. She just continued assessing her body: her arms,
legs, cheeks. Zirachi smiled at her daughter.
“It’s okay, my darling. It was just a bad dream.”
Jocelyn opened her mouth in pure shock. “Just a dream?. Mother, is it—is it because
of Dad?. I heard you and I thought you were hurt.” —tears began to well up in her
eyes “I was so scared something happened, just—just like with dad, and I—“
“Oh no. It’s okay, honey. I’m fine. I’m okay”.
Zirachi dragged her into her arms as Jocelyn burst into tears. She sighed heavily. It
was weird how she was the one with the nightmare, but Jocelyn was the one in her
arms. Not like Zirachi minded. Jocelyn was a fierce young woman most of the time,
but whenever it came to her mother, she could run wild. Especially after the crucial
incident with Charles. But Zirachi closed her mind off Charles at that moment. All she
could do was just keep saying she was okay till Joss heard her loud and clear.
But even as her hands slowly ran down her back time and again, Zirachi found that
her reassuring words were in complete opposite to the worry clogging her brain.
Why, for the first time in 25 years, had the dream resurfaced once again?.
Chibok, Borno State
2016
After the strange boy uttered that single word back then, Zirachi ran the race of her
life and never looked back.
She hadn’t looked back when more sounds of “BOOM!” and bloodcurdling screams
filled her ears. She hadn’t looked back when her ears started ringing from the
knowledge that she’d just left Mariam there. She’d simply let her own student die.
She hadn’t looked back. Just like when Mariam was delivering the baby, her body
and mind shut off completely, working only on autopilot. She held the sleeping babe
tightly in her arms and ran until her slippers tore out and her legs bled painfully.
She ran till the day turned to darkness and she had no choice but to hide underneath
a baobab tree surrounded by a thick bush path, praying to God that no terrorist would
catch her. To this day, Zirachi never forgot that night. It always laid low on her chest
like a cursed talisman of the past: that long night had been the most terrifying moment
of her life. She’d had no water and no food. She’d had to squeeze damp moisture from
the bare leaves into the baby’s mouth when her own dormant breast refused to let out
any milk. She had lain as stiff as a thief, her eyes wide open, her ears turned high as
she scanned for any noise in the grass while also being careful not to wake the baby.
She had been exhausted, dehydrated, overused and on the brink of absolute collapse.
But her eyes somehow stayed open all night.
When the day turned dusty with morning so many hours later; when the road ahead
was so deserted that she could see even the movement of the sand against the wind;
when her own throat became so parched that she knew she’d lost her voice
completely, Zirachi finally got up and walked. Driven with fear that shook her to her
bones, she walked.
Suddenly, a whirling sound interrupted the loud ringing in her ears. She strained her
eyes upward to see a vast helicopter up ahead moving closer to her position.
She nearly squeezed the baby to death. Her worst nightmare had come to pass.
She had failed Mariam. She had failed Mariam’s daughter. And now, she couldn’t
scream even if she wanted to.
They’ve found us. They’ve found us—
Just as she turned around to flee, a hand on her shoulder stopped her abruptly. When
she turned back around and looked into a man’s warm eyes, she just knew.
He’d come to save them.
Two hours later, Zirachi and Jocelyn got on a plane headed for Abuja. It was in that
moment that Zirachi finally broke down and wailed.
Zirachi never stopped running.
For the next few years following the Chibok Girls’ kidnapping, she became a new
person. She was no longer the Zirachi Jideofor who had arrived as a naive Youth
Corper in Borno state. Everything had changed. She had a daughter now.
Her own parents knew this the moment they arrived at the Sunni Hospital the very
next day.
Her mother cast one look at her daughter lying so motionless on the bed and she
fainted in her husband’s arms. The woman on the bed was nothing like their daughter.
She’d seen the world now. She’d felt the horror s beneath the surface.
Time flew by in spades. Just like that, their lives changed.
Zirachi pursued her career in Medicine and Management. Soon enough, she
operated her small medical facility.
She kept her promise to Mariam. She protected Jocelyn from the entire truth.
Zirachi held unto that truth even when, 10 years later, she got married to the very
man that rescued her on that night. His name was Charles Anthony, a respected
delegate in the U.S. Embassy. Even when they shared their eternal vows on the most
beautiful island in South Africa, she’d held that truth like a vice.
Even when Jocelyn would come back home after school and regularly ask her:
“Mom!. The other kids always poke at me and call a black banana. Why don’t I have
fair skin like you and Dad?”, Zirachi held unto that truth by laughing and warning the
boys off.
Over the years, Charles had mastered the art of mentioning it time and again.
His questions always came like little, angelic whispers. They would come after a
long night of passionate love-making, a heated conversation, or simply just cuddling
in bed. He would hold her, caress her tender neck and whisper: “why don’t we just tell
her, my love?. What are you so afraid of?”.
Every single time he asked, Zirachi’s back would go stiff on instinct. She would
move away from his arms and repeat the same thing:
“I can’t”.
Nobody understood. Nobody knew how that night still held a huge fragment of her
soul and refused to let go. How could she ever bring herself to tell Mariam’s daughter
that she’d simply watched her mother die and had done nothing?. She could never
forgive herself for it and could never let go of the constant nightmares that night
brought.
Even though Charles and her therapist were the ones who suffered her trauma the
most, they still could never understand.
15 years after her childless marriage to Charles, her husband died in a fatal car
crash. Jocelyn had become her own woman. With the new wave of grief Charles’
death brought, Zirachi vowed to take her truth to the grave.
*****
Everything changed on one rainy Saturday morning when the doorbell rang so
loudly on their mahogany door.
She was in the kitchen cutting cabbages when the first ring sounded.
“Joss!. Joss, get the door. I’m busy in the kitchen!”.
Just before an excited Jocelyn flew past the kitchen counter, she gave Zirachi a
smug look.
“See, mom?. I told you he would come”.
Zirachi rolled her eyes playfully. Jocelyn had recently been raving on about her
Neurology Professor who helped her out of a crucial moment that would otherwise
have ended her Residency at a renowned General Hospital.
Apparently, he was such a revered “savior” that Jocelyn admired greatly. Zirachi
had had her ears full of all the praises and gratitude. Finally resigned, she simply
sighed one day and instructed Jocelyn to invite the man to dinner.
However unserious she had been in making that decision, Zirachi couldn’t deny her
curiosity about meeting the 39 year old man who, according to Jocelyn, was already a
Professor and Head Neurosurgeon. She also really needed to meet the man her
hard-headed daughter had somehow fallen in love with—even though Jocelyn would
never admit to it.
Zirachi smiled a small, knowing smile as her hand sliced through another cabbage.
“Oh. Dr Sagir!. Come in quickly. The rain will drench your coat!”.
“Thank you very much, Jocelyn”.
Zirachi quickly wiped her hands on a napkin, smoothed the countertop and removed
the “MAGGI” apron from her neck.
“Mom!. Mom, he’s here!”
“I know. I’m coming!”.
At that point, she was nearly running. She laughed at the silliness of it all. Here she
was, behaving like a naive schoolgirl about to meet her lover. When she finally lifted
her head to greet her guest, Zirachi stopped short.
For several seconds, time stood still. Her eyes did a hypnotic stilt. Her ears rang. Her
heart pounded, full of blood, as fast as the strings on a pendulum.
That face.
No. It couldn’t be. It was so long ago. It couldn’t be…
“Mom?”, a concerned voice asked.
Zirachi knew her daughter was calling to her, but her mind was not hers at that
moment. Her brain was struggling to process how she could recognize a face from 25
years ago, a face whose one word had been their salvation.
No no no no no!
Did I just say that out loud?. She thought.
“Mom?”, the voice whispered again, moving closer.
Zirachi’s fingers where shaking now. She wanted to say, “I’m fine”, but the instant her
lips moved, the man before her took a step back. She looked up into his eyes again.
They were different this time.
Where they had shown astute confusion just moments before, a new tingling
emotion shone in them: Conviction.
He knew.
Just like that, Zirachi’s past came back to feast. This time, there would be no turning
back ever again.