Name:Orode Ajuwaghan

Title: Voices of the night

Email : orodeirolobe@gmail.com

I woke to the distressful wailings of a baby. I was about eleven or twelve at this time.

It's cries for help, savagely rented through the cold silent night.

For several minutes, I endured this unusual night time sound.Then my mind could no longer take it ,so I
sat up on the six inch mattress that I had only recently inherited from a distant relative. Half formed
explanations behind the eerie sounds, assaulted my thoughts. I settled for the most viable of these
explanations.

That the eerie wailings , were the lingering echoes of a dream or nightmare , that I had recently
vacated.

But the cries did not abate, as the steady rise and fall of Seun's chest, that accompanied her soft
rhythmic breathing , filled my consciousness .

The bush lantern, that Baba allowed to burn through the night , in spite of the constantly rising cost of
kerosene, glimmered from its position on the wooden stool by the entrance door.Its yellow glow,
casting exaggerated shadows across the walls of the small space we called our home.

The usual familiar night time activities abounded but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was
amiss .

I looked around again, desperate in my search for an assurance that everything was as it should be .

My old reader lay open on the wooden center table. The tale, about two friends, one short and fat and
the other, tall and thin , peeked from its off white pages. I knew the wordings of this story, as I had read
it several times.

A red worn plastic jug,with it's white lid, slightly open, stood precariously at the edge of the table,
despite Baba's directives from earlier, that it be returned to the cupboard that housed our kitchen
utensils .

The warnings in my heart lingered still.

Then it came to me, suddenly, like bright light blazing across pitch blackness , revealing it's once
concealed contents .

It was the silence, from my father's bedroom. Baba was not a quiet sleeper. Silence from his bedroom,
was an aberration of our circumstance and a distortion of our reality.
It was such a major problem that i had required an explanation for it, from Mama..

Her explanation was like several she had given on several other issues..A regurgitation of religious
teachings on the expectations of virtues wives .

'Anire, your Baba works very hard during the day. His snoring at night time,relieves his weariness', she
said gently pulling me into her embrace.

The flaw in her reply was glaring in the ensuing silence . She was a hard worker too. And she did not
snore at night .

My objections, tethered at the tip of my tongue , as my senses geared itself in preparation to counter
her response.

Then I noticed the silent plea in her eye. Her wish for me, to accept things as they were. My budding
protestations and counterarguments, were swiftly abandoned.

I never asked about snoring again. Even on the rare occasion that the throttling sounds emanating from
the inside of my father's body became unusually loud .I just thought of my mother's frightened look and
the sounds became less bothersome.

I rose from my bed and with as much care as I could muster, I made my way to his bedroom.The door
was slightly ajar, so I walked in .

He was lying on his bed, eyes, wide open.

Baba? I called out . My voice, hoarse from sleep.

His slightly glazed eyes, fell on my small awkward frame , blocking the space between the grey door
and Mama's old dressing mirror.

And in slow motion, his index finger fell across his thick lips. It was a warning for me to remain silent .

His iron framed bed creaked as he rose from it. He made his way to my side and gently shepherded
me back to my sleeping area in the parlor..

'Can't you hear it ?'I asked , tilting my head upward, searching his eyes for an acknowledgement of the
tormenting sounds.

'Don't mind the sounds, go to sleep, he said pulling my cover cloth away from the mattress to allow me
settle in'.

'It's just a dream'. He continued

He departed from the living room, after checking the locks on the door .

I closed my eyes tightly amidst my active contemplations if my most recent physical activity belonged
in this dream Baba spoke of .
I thought of mama . I wondered how many more of her all night prayers at the Christ Miracle
Assemblage , was required for her to birth a male child, after three previous miscarriages.

The wailings gradually subsided. And then, it stopped.

I fell asleep soon after.

I didn't dwell too much on the events of the previous night as I went through my morning routine.I was
not sure what of it, was true and what belonged in my over active imagination.

But as we exited the yard at Rumu gorodada, Seun and I, adorned in our neatly pressed check blouses
over pale blue skirts , with Baba following closely behind us , double checking the locks on the doors, we
saw the small crowd gathered around the old catholic church.

'A baby ' a male voice dripping with incredulity said

'Someone just abandoned their newborn baby boy. It died sometime in the night.'Another voice said
tearfully.

'Is it a ritual killing'? another asked ...

'These women have started this again'...another said.

Unanswered questions hung heavily in the air, along with curses for the woman who had dared to
abandon an innocent to the cruel elements.

My gaze drifted from the horrified look on Seun's face to my father's.

'We are running late ,' he said as we walked past the steadily growing crowd of curious bystanders,
leaning over each other, for a better view of the dead baby whose wailings had woken me up ,the
previous night .