That time of year came again. I could see that everyone was happy except me. I dreaded Christmas because it no longer brought happiness and jingles but had memories that dug deep into my heart. Sometimes I wonder why we can remember.
Flashback to last year's Christmas. It was always a tradition for my family to visit Pa Josef's (my husband's eldest brother) home at Abagana, Anambra State. He had quite the mansion, and it was the reunion spot for the extended family.
On the 22nd of September 1988, we set off for the usual journey a few minutes shy from 11 am in Oche's (my husband's) truck. Oche had to beg me to travel that year. Being heavily pregnant with our second child and nursing a toddler; traveling and faking smiles especially with ndi 'nwunye dim' was one I found very exhausting. Those women had too much bravado and always left me out of their conversations. As per the youngest wife and the naive jobless girl, I had to spend my life in the kitchen. Imagine!
Ijele my first child, being a very bubbly and smart kid held on to my wrapper a few days before the travel as I made dinner. It was a beautiful day. The evening sun cast long shadows on the ground. The slanting rays of the setting sun gave a warm orange tinge to the sky.
“Mummy, Christmas is next week. My teacher said so. Is it true?” He asked still holding on to me and with the most innocent eyes which always melted my heart. I soon picked him up and placed him on the thighs and his little head soon rested on my shoulder. I had mastered the craft of carrying two at once, don't worry about my baby bump.
“Yes it's true” I answered while pounding the crayfish and pepper which laid at the mercy of my pestle.
“Are we going to the village?” He asked again and I noticed the bored voice. I bent to look at him as he got down from my carelessly got down from the comfort of my thighs.
I furrowed my eyebrows as I watched him dash into the house. With quickened steps, he got out his blue little chair and placed it to sit beside me.
“You were pushing me” He muttered pointing at my bump and folded his arms in feigned anger. I let out a good laugh and got up to adjust the nku (firewood) while my soup cooked.
“Go in and meet dad. Will you?” I said with my eyes fixed on the soup I stirred.
“Dad keeps reading. He told me to not disturb him”
From the corner of my eyes, I saw him fold his arms again. This son of mine eh!
“Okay, If you want to be with me, you have to stop being angry” I let out a stiff smile and was relieved when he smiled too.
If only I knew.
The rest of the evening was uneventful, and the days went by with me getting the foodstuff, clothes, and other things we needed to keep us throughout our stay at the village. Oche has gotten his truck serviced and ensured there was enough petrol.
I tried to convince myself that all was good in my world even though a part of my heart ached that something was wrong.
Still, on the journey to Abagana with Oche driving and the ofe nsala I made as a courtesy to Pa Josef in between my laps. We were okay with Ijele in the care of other children who stayed at the open bonnet with our luggage. The children being 12 and 14 years old respectively we're old enough to be there and take care of Ijele. Besides, Ijele always enjoyed the breeze and sightseeing. Especially with masquerades entertaining the crowd.
But I guess I should stop the story here because I still don't know how to explain how I lost Ijele to motion sickness.
I remember Chika, one of the elder kids hit the car furiously while hot tears streamed down her face. While Emeka has hit the windscreen at the driver's side.
I jolted from my sleep when Oche halted the car suddenly.
That day, I received the shock of my life.
My child had broken into cold sweats, had abdominal discomfort, nausea, and vomited all over his clothes. It was a highway and no hospital was on site, we were helpless.
After minutes of fighting for his life, Ijele Nwam gave up the ghost.
Looking back now, it's been a year and I know I'm yet to recover.
Ekene who arrived a month after the incident was Ijele's replica. He was the only consolation I had that Ijele was still close to me. Even as a baby, I never took his mood or my instincts for a joke.
Never again.
Benecca's Tales
2021
All Rights Reserved.
Author's Note
Motion sickness is real. It happens to anyone but especially in children between the ages of 2 – 12, and it does kill.
Please educate yourself more.
Writing “Ijele Nwam” was quite stressful because I've not written for a while and I experienced writer's block, but I'm glad I conveyed this message the best way I could.
All Characters are virtual but inspired by the song “Egwu Ndi Nne” by Umu Obiligbo.
Thank you for reading.
Do not forget to share and leave a comment🙏
Wow... I have always wondered if I would ever outgrow this motion sickness of a thing, mine comes with fever and headache with the nausea that accompanies it, although I have found means to hold myself from vomiting, my journeys still can't be called enjoyable
ReplyDeleteAww. I'm sending you love, you'll be fine.
ReplyDelete🥺🥺🥺I think dis is very educative on how motion sickness can affect people can also mothers should be aware of there babies while in car. Thank u Miss vanessa for a beautiful tale.
ReplyDeleteSo, I get motion sickness every time I travel. Didn't know it was deadly. Vanessa, you have succeeded in scaring me ��... But it's all good. The story is beautiful.
ReplyDelete