ROUGH PAST
The
entire arena was so moody and tranquil not unlike a graveyard that even the
domestic birds within felt it. Though the 43-year-old Andrew was used to a
quiet and lonely atmosphere, this very one that emerged unannounced was so
intense for his liking.
He just returned from Blazing Hospital
in Ojota, Lagos State, Nigeria where he lost his third wife to the monstrous
death. The deceased, Chidinma who tied the connubial knot with him barely a
year back, gave up the ghost while in labour; she had pushed for the umpteenth
time in the labour room as instructed by the nurses, yet all efforts proved
abortive, perhaps the unborn baby had vowed never to behold the planet, Earth.
It was an unspeakable disaster, to assert the least.
As the poor Andrew lay in his
magnificent bed, facing the ceiling, engulfed by thoughtful feelings, he
abruptly recalled his second wife, Christy. He equally lost her to the cold
hand of death – three years back – barely eight months after they got married.
She was dastardly crushed by a fully loaded trailer along a federal highway in
the city of Lagos when the driver derailed from his lane having lost his brake.
Intriguingly, Christy also passed on in pregnancy; she was to put to bed in
about six weeks time based on the result of the scan diagnosis she underwent.
As he remembered with deep sorrow how
the news of Christy’s sudden departure came to his hearing on that fateful day,
he fiercely rose from the bed, gushed out fathomless tears uncontrollably and
eventually sat on the room’s tiled floor, felt so rejected. What else could he
think of as he furiously sat on the floor than to recall the beautiful face of
Adanna, his beloved first wife? Adanna died in his hand six years back right in
their house lounge when he was 37.
“Oh, Adanna!” he roared at the top of
his voice, still sitting on the floor.
Adanna who was heavily pregnant of
triplets, had fell ill a few days back owing to cold weather. The wicked
pneumonia penetrated her sensitive hormones that she was left with no choice
than to wave farewell to mother Earth despite the medication she was placed on
by her gynaecologist. She passed away while lying on her hubby’s laps as they
were seated in the parlour in that forsaken evening.
Prior to her exit, she had complained
of a sharp abdominal pain but when her hubby (Andrew) made move to take her to
a near-by clinic, she declined, claiming that it wasn’t as serious as he
presumed. Her claim was not unconnected with the fact that she had a strong
phobia for injections, thus invariably avoided any incident that could make her
caught the sight of a niddle let alone experiencing its pains.
The helpless thought of all these
ordeals kept pounding in his perplexed mind as he sat hopelessly on the tiled
floor. The thorny hands of death had refused to free him, thus making the
ongoing bondage seemed endless. First, it was Adanna followed by Christy, and
now Chidinma. Who was next? That could be the most apt question to be tendered
at that juncture. Notwithstanding, life must ride on.
“God…!” Andrew exclaimed, stood up
calmly. “Why me..?” he added hesitantly, went to his bed again and sat on it.
It was almost night, at about 7:45pm
to be precise. In the absence of Chidinma who left the world some hours ago, he
was the only one who lived in the two-bedroom apartment equally situated in
Ojota, thus he had all chances of embarking on a suicidal mission; and it
appeared that was the only option he could think of at the moment as he got his
eyes fixed towards the PVC ceiling hung on the house.
Andrew was undoubtedly a well-to-do
young man who worked with a multinational broadcasting firm as a marketing
officer. Eight years back when he secured the promising job at 35 after several
years of job-hunting, life became so nice and enticing to his person not until
two years later when he thought it wise to tie the knot having successfully
found Adanna who could be best described as an angel considering both her
outward and inward idiosyncrasies; surely, little did he realize that he was on
his way to a cursed land.
How would he communicate to his parents,
relatives, friends, and of course colleagues, that he was about to bury the
third woman that willingly came into his life just twelve months ago, having
entombed two in the past? Based on his feelings, the best thing that could
happen to him at this point was nothing but death; he wished he could just lie
in the bed and become lifeless rather than resorting to suicide, which had
already occupied his thoughts.
A
few minutes later at about some seconds to eight O’clock, a knock was heard at
his main entrance. He managed to walk to the metal door and let it open, never
bothered to ascertain who was there.
It was Dube, his childhood friend who
equally resided in Lagos but in a different locality. He presumed he was the
one at the door because he had earlier in the day called him on phone, asking
him to endeavour to come to his place as soon as possible. When the invitee
made effort to find out during the phone conversation what actually the problem
was, Andrew declined.
Prior to Dube’s arrival, all his
neighbours who lived in the other neighbouring apartments that were built
alongside his, had come to sympathize with his person on hearing the ugly news.
Dube walked in majestically though preoccupied
with fear of the unknown, and closed the door behind him.
On sighting the guest, he only managed
to offer him a handshake, and then gushed out tears again, indicating that all
wasn’t at ease. He calmly walked to one of the single cushion chairs in the
sitting room and confusedly sat down.
Dube followed him but remained
standing. “Andrew,” he called. “What is it?’
There was no response.
Dube stepped closer to him, and squatted
right before him as he was seated. “Andrew, I said what is it?” he reiterated.
“By the way, where is your wife?” He supplemented.
“I lost her….!” He hinted noisily.
“You did what..?” Dube roared,
frantically stood up. “Did I hear you clearly?”
Andrew
nodded. “She died in labour.” He eventually cleared the air, sobbing.
“Oh my Go…d; not again!” exclaimed
Dube, stood still. “You mean, Chidinma is no more?”
Andrew nodded again, took a deep
breath and exhaled accordingly.
Dube shook his head continuously,
managed to sit on the other seat sited closely to Andrew’s, and abruptly became
mute.
To be continued, please!
FDN Nwaozor
Executive
Director, Docfred Resource Clinic - Owerri
__________________________________
frednwaozor@gmail.com
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http://facebook.com/theMediaAmbassador
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