“…Sorry ma’am, call for you…”
“….wondering if you’re a certain Mrs
Otedola-Benson…”
“… Our hospital for identification…”
The voices resonating in her head were as loud
as rain, yet the woman was hearing them only
in snippets. She didn’t understand how the
voices could come from different people, first
– a man, a child, then a woman. They were
repeating to her, conversations of the past hour
which totally made no sense. One thing
however was clear from the firm but
comforting voice over the phone.
“… Your daughter is dead… ”
***
This is her second hour in the waiting entrance
of St. Charles Hospital and i can tell from the
impatient albeit silent tap of her heel on the tile
that she isn’t used to being kept waiting.
Her charcoal gray suit gives her away as a very
important person, probably someone in
government. I am studying the sullen
expression on her face, tracing the lines on her
forehead down to her cheeks, slowly shrinking
with age and i can tell that something has gone
wrong – very wrong.
“Lekwa this girl oo, since i left you on this
bench, you haven’t moved? ”
My very loud best friend, Ifeoma exclaimed,
settling noisily on the chair beside me. The
hospital receptionist turned from the television
set she had been glued to for the past hour and
gave us a very disapproving glare. I turned and
rolled my eyes at Ifeoma but she shrugged it
off. I concluded that Obiora was fine then, her
boyfriend of two years that we had come to
visit, he was involved in an auto crash on his
way to school from Lagos, and i turned my
attention back to the woman i had been
studying. Ifeoma followed my eyes and shook
her head in rapid succession.
“Don’t think of it! I hope it’s not this woman
you’re studying for your thesis… ”
Now, Ifeoma has the loudest whisper i have
ever heard and she never runs out of things to
say. The receptionist is now watching us fully,
disapproving glare still stamped on her terrible
make-up smeared face. Ifeoma was
unrelenting.
“You see, i never quite understood those
lecturers in that your English department. How
will Afam tell you to write a thesis on real-life
experience, i don’t even… ”
I smiled. We can’t be having this discussion.
” That’s why I’m English and you’re Law. In our
world it’s very complex but beautiful to create…
”
” Ehn! Ehn! Biko don’t start! If anyone should
be blowing grammar here, it should be me, not
you. Anyways, even if they tell you to write
about God it’s not my business, just don’t write
about this woman. I mean, the Otedola-
Bensons? , it just doesn’t feel right. Mhn-Mhn.
Don’t try it. ”
” Wait! You know who she is? Otedola? Asin
the Otedola we know? As per Dj cuppy? ”
I could feel my excitement forming, the birth of
a new story. Trust Ifeoma to notice my hope
and kill it before i can bask in its joy. There
goes my best friend for you.
” Yeye girl! That’s how you’ll go outside now
and say you met Dj cuppy’s mother because
that woman resemble dj cuppy for your eye.
After everything I’ve been teaching you”
She hissed,pretending to be busy with her
phone, and that’s one thing with my best friend
i call push and pull. It’s just like Ifeoma to give
me a good story, and once i show the slightest
hint of interest, she withdraws and pretends
she didn’t say anything. She mistakes
everywhere for a law court- nothing i can’t deal
with anyway.
“Oya, ejorr. Tell me na. Who is she? Why are
you doing like this sef? You dey like make i dey
beg you o. Odiro nma. It’s not good oo”
She eyed me from the corner of her eye, you
know those ones that can annoy the most?
That was when i knew she was ready to talk.
“That’s Ada’s mother, i heard her full name is
Tiwatope, before the Otedola thing”
At my look of confusion, she rolled her eyes
and added.
“Ada, now! Former lodgemate. Ada Benson,
that won Miss Unizik in our year two, she’s in
your faculty sef, in history or something, but
how will you know? ”
She did her signature mock shrug and i kept
my mouth shut so she wouldn’t find a reason
to end her tale so soon.
” Her father is Chief of army staff, her mother
works for UBA bank, the one in Ikoyi,she just
flew in from Lagos this morning ”
” So, that explains why she’s here? ”
Silence.
Then Ifeoma turned around in her seat, facing
me, and giving the corner eye to the nosy
receptionist who had been eavesdropping.
” What I’ll tell you now, if you like ehn go and
put it on unizik blog or write it and give your
lecturer so you’ll get A, then see if I’ll not kill
you”
My pinky promise earned guiness record for
speed.
“You know the bus Obiora entered yesterday
from Lagos? , some of our Unizik students were
in the bus, Ada was there too, but she died
sha… ”
The voices in my head were ringing and talking
loudly, all at once, my heart probably wasn’t
beating anymore. The shock was
overwhelming. I was looking at my best friend
but not seeing her. How could she be so calm,
announcing someone’s death like that.
Sometimes i find it hard to believe she’s
human.
“… you know that Amansea-Enugu road, where
Holy Family is? , that’s where their bus
crashed…”
“… If you see blood sha…”
“They’re keeping it quiet because of Ada’s
Father. Not as if she’s the only one that died
oo, i heard two final year boys died too, but
you know Ada’s father is a man in government,
if the news gets out, how she died? People will
talk! They’ll blame government for bad roads
and you know they can’t deal with such
negative publicity right now… ”
“… Are you listening to me sef, this girl?…”
“… So, Obiora said… ”
I wasn’t listening, i had constructed the first
three pages of my thesis.
****
” Sorry for keeping you waiting ma’am. I’m Dr.
Francis, resident doctor here. Please follow
me. ”
Silently, the woman followed him down the
hallway,not noticing the two girls chattering on
the bench adjacent to hers, she couldn’t hear
them, even if she wanted to. The only sound
she could hear was her Louboutin on the white
hospital tile and her heart, beating.
Even when they went under the archway
labelled ‘Morgue’, she was hoping silently for a
miracle, something – a sign.
“Ma’am, if this might be difficult for you or if
you have medical issues, you can stand right
here and we’ll get you some of her personal
effects recovered from the crash to enable you
identify.. ”
” I want to see my daughter! ”
Her voice was firm, one used to issuing
commands, but the doctor could hear the slight
tremor, the waver. She was afraid, hoping it not
to be her daughter- Denial. Nothing the good
doctor wasn’t used to.
****
She lay on the plain white slab, as cold as
death, or was it ‘it’ now? How again do they
refer to dead bodies? Her Brazilian weave, the
one that had cost daddy almost a hundred
thousand to buy for her 19th birthday was
matted with blood on one side of her head, the
other side gaping open, dried blood around the
edges. Her eyes were drawn back, in shock?
Pain? Did her daughter die, staring death in the
eye? Was it instant? Was there pain? Did she
feel her life slipping away slowly as the trailer
hit the bus from the side? Or did she cut her
head open when the bus somersaulted? Did
she at any minute cry for Mommy?
“With all due respect ma’am the body hasn’t
been cleaned and taken care of, i will assume
you have identified the body to be your
daughter’s and we are sorry for your loss, but
you’ll have to leave to the waiting room till the
certificate of death is ready, please bear with
us ”
The doctor was talking but she wasn’t
listening. She wondered if he had ever seen
any of his children die. Did he even have kids?
The voices in her head were louder now, slowly
they were overwhelming her, controlling her.
She took off her court heels and flung them
towards the water dispenser at the entrance of
the morgue and laughed out loud, a sound,
hollow and brittle, containing no humor. The
doctor raised a brow.
“Madam, is there a problem? I understand your
grief… ”
Did he?
She laughed again, this time, louder and
resonating. Then she ran for the reception, her
laughter echoing down the hallway.
***
The receptionist was staring at her, as though
she was mad. Those two silly girls were still
seated where she left them, pretending not to
be staring. They were the least of her problems
now, all she she could think of was to
“Dance! ”
” Dance! ”
The voices in her head were screaming loudly
and disjointedly,the command however, was
the same.
” Dance! ”
And dance she did, on and on and on.
****
” on.. and on… and on…. ”
My fingers click-clacked on my laptop keypad.
Ifeoma was peering over my shoulder, literarily
breathing down my neck.
” Shey after everything, you still used this story.
Yeye girl! Shey you wan graduate with first
class, bah? Wait make Ada come pursue you
from grave…”
“… but you try sha o, you can write! , Afam had
better give you an A”
There goes my best friend.
Push, then pull.
I couldn’t hide my smile.
“Ifeoma do you still remember what happened
to Mrs Otedola-Benson, i mean after they
chased everybody from the reception? I need
to close my story ”
” You’re asking me? Am I Channels news?”
“…. Sha, I heard she don ‘ara’ ”
Ifeoma put a finger to her temple, making a
rapid rotating movement.
“Ara? Asin wonders? ”
I asked, still confused.
Ifeoma rolled her eyes and pursed her lips in a
drawn out hiss.
” I wonder why your father is still paying school
fees on your head.
Ara asin mad. She chop craze. She don kolo…
but she dey jand now, Germany or
something,and biko don’t ask me how i know ”
Ifeoma said, and decided she didn’t want to
watch me complete my thesis after all. She
was known for having a short attention span
anyway, and was now focused on the new
Telemundo episode on the T. V in our cramped
up self-contained apartment.
I wanted so badly to remind her of her
commercial law quiz the next morning,and i
don’t know if i wanted to watch her fail or if my
Evil twin took over me, but i said nothing,
instead i stared at her, unseeing, wondering
how i would feel if i had lost my best friend in
an auto accident- hell, any accident at all.
The pain flashed in my head briefly but i knew
that was just my imagination at it’s best.
I thought of Ada. I thought of death.
I needed something, anything, to complete my
thesis.
Then, I thought of pain.
I imagined Mrs Tiwatope Otedola-Benson.
