Music of America from My Heart

By Mubo Aderonke Lala

Sarah was born to an unskilled young mother who suddenly finds herself alone with young Sarah when her then live-in boyfriend, which is Sarahs father, decided to leave them both for a tour of the duty, a circumstance that made Sarah separated from her biological parents. Sarah was raised by her maternal grandmother and her auntie in a small town called Opelika. At an appointed time, all people that matter in her life came back to favor her. She fell in love and married a Nigerian student who encouraged her to fine-tune her career as a singer. When the family moved to Nigeria, she was not found of rigidity in Nigerian school system where students just study, do exam, study, and do the test. Nothing excited her; therefore, she suggested a ceremony similar to the American version of homecoming to her daughters school. They not only accepted her idea but also granted her absolute right to coordinate and implement the entire event. The event was so successful that it eventually transformed Sarah from an elite house wife to a well-known socialite in the Nigerian high-class inner circle.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503532816

Mubo Aderonke Lala

MUBO ADERONKE LALA was born in Nigeria, West of Africa. She earned her Bachelor of Science in Professional Studies with minor in Health Services Administration from Barry University, Miami Shore, Florida. This book is her second project. She currently lives in Miami, Fort Lauderdale area with her families.

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CHAPTER 1

The Early Childhood

I remember crying like a baby that I was, asking my mother if she loves me or not.

Honey, I love you more than you ever know, but I have to do this so you can have a stable life.

I heard what she was saying, but I could not fathom it at once.

Ma, why do I have to go to Grandma? I asked.

She answered, Because your grandmother and my sister are in Opelika, and they are stable. I am not. I still want to travel, meet people.

All this conversation was taking place while we were on our way from the mall to home. That night, my mother’s gentle touch against my skin woke me up from my sleep.

She said, Sarah, dear, I have to talk to you, and I need your undivided attention because I know living with my mother and my sister might not be what you wanted, but it is what you and I need right now.

Even though I was unresponding, she lifted me up to sit me down at the edge of the bed, with my feet dangling freely.

She said, Sarah, in a deep annoying tone, are you wide awake or are you sleeping?

I turned my head to the left side. I guess my seven-year-old self was responding to something I considered to be an unpalatable discussion.

Sarah, she continued, I know our living arrangement will change. Emotionally, it is going to hurt, but believe me, for a little while, things will be back to normal.

Ma, I do not like to go Grandma. I love you. I do not want to leave you. Please, Ma, please.

I hugged my mom from her neck because she was sitting next to me by the bed. She got up from my side. She sat on the floor in front of me.

Sarah, I think that to live with my mom will be good for you. Honey, you have to cooperate with me.

When she repeated the same thing she said to me earlier, I kind of sensed seriousness and determination in her tone of voice.

Therefore, I answered her, Ma, does it mean you do not want me anymore? If you do, why do you want me to go to my grandmother and your sister? Why can’t I stay here with you?

She said, Come here. Come here, I beckon.

I went to her. She urged me then said, Sarah, sometimes adults have to make decisions that might affect their children mentally and emotionally. Honey, dear, I know you are too young to understand. If you are of age, you will understand.

She was packing my clothing in a medium duffy bag, the type that you can find in the cornerstore on the far end where it has collected dust for several months. She even packed my shoes in a grocery bag and dumped it all in the duffy bag. She kept on talking.

By this time tomorrow, you will be at my mother’s place at Opelika.

When are we leaving? I started bagaining.

At this time, I felt there was nothing to be done but to accept my mother’s wishes. I was nervous because I did not know what to expect. I threw up all over the back of my stepfather’s truck. Nobody knows if my vomit is as result of panic, anxiety, or motion sickness. I remember my mother lifted me up from the truck and handed me to Auntie Maggie. My grandmother came out later to greet my mother and my stepfather. My mother responded to her mother so well, but her boyfriend was preoccupied with cleaning my vomit. Twenty minutes later, they left. I can still see the back of that truck playing in my head until today. That is how I became a resident of Opelika, Alabama. The next morning, Auntie Maggie took me to school to register me in a class where most students were not good in terms of looks.

When I came from school, my grandmother showed me a tiny room with outdated dressers and a floor-length narrow mirror. I quickly grabbed a doll that was on top of the dresser. I love this doll, and it became my friend. I talked to the doll as if I am talking to a friend. My grandmother told me that the room belonged to Auntie Maggie’s last daughter. At my grandmother’s place, her food is something I am learning to adjust to because it is not like my mother’s cooking.

One afternoon, I was gazing out of the window of the tiny little room that I had been residing in since I was nine years and three months. I was thinking about my mother and our life in Tennessee, e. It was weird because I have never gazed out of window like that before ever since I have resided here. It seems the sadness of missing my mother touched my soul. I started singing while still gazing our the window. What was in the window that channeled my musical ability was really beyond me. Since then, I will find things to sing about every time I am thinking about my mom. It seems as if my mind is yearning for my mother musically. Everything I find on the floor, flower seeds, anything, I will put it in a little bag that was in my little room, in an attempt to give it to my mother whenever she shows up to take me back to Chatanogga, Tennessee. Even though I was extremely quiet, I internalize a lot of things, but I was a different girl immediately after I step out of my room.

I will check how much my breast is growing and walk like sophiscated ladies walk. Sometimes I look through the mirror at how bushy my pubic hair is. Then I will put my dress on and start performing in front of the mirror, imagining that I am performing in front of ten thousand audience. The only two television sets in the house are in the living room, and only one of the two works. Everyone likes to go to their room. What they do there, I do not know. My auntie loves to read novels. She recycles novel in the only thrift store in Opelika. She told me that novels often her take out of Opelika and beyond, that they always keep her imaginary senses alive. But what my grandmother do in her room, I do not know.

As soon as I reached fourth grade, I began to socialize with my friends from school. I ease my boredom by visiting my friends’ houses. Sometimes they welcome me; sometimes they do not.

Sometimes my auntie takes me for shopping or walking in the park, but the level of my interaction with her is not close to that of my mother. And I miss that, my mother’s interaction. I get bored easily. It is as if something in me is larger than Opelika. It is quiet, bored, and sleepy for my liking.

I see myself pass through Opelika like a speedy truck; therefore, I am determined to relocate to the city after my high school. I do not know where exactly nature will land me. I just know that Opelika is not part of that plan. I do not know up until today the reason why I gazed out of window so much. The food, my friends, and my surroundings all bore me to death. But I managed to hold on until my graduation. My auntie and Granny knew my intention because I was not hiding the fact that I am planning to leave immediately after my graduation. The passion that I used to have to socialize with my friends disappeared like polen during a windy storm. I am determined to attend community college at Tennessee, e instead of attending a nearby college. My feeling to leave Opelika was so much that I refused to participate in high school activities. I do know why the urge was so intense, especially toward my final year. I stopped going to my friends’ houses because looking at them and their mothers always bring the painful memory of my mother’s absence.

I always admired my friends who have their mothers in their life. Part of me always dreams of how wonderful it would have been to grow up with my mother. Auntie Maggie shopped for my first bra. She never used makeup; therefore, she did not bothered to buy one for me.

My mother left me at age nine and never looked back. I internalized anger; therefore, I always frown. I heard from my grandmother that my mother had moved to New Jersey with her new husband. I never knew how to shop for a bra. No one was there to talk about my first menstrual period and what to do about it. I have no idea about women hygiene. I never knew how to shave and did not have anyone to talk to about what products to use. My grandmother took care of me, with Auntie Maggie’s support. The caring and support they gave me never allowed me to criticize my mother for abandoning me. One day, I believe I must be thirteen years old, when I went to my grandmother to ask for the reason why my mom never came to visit us.

She said, Sarah, your mother misses you.

But if she does, why she did not make an effort to visit me, even if it is for a day?

My grandmother touched me slightly on my shoulder and said, Sarah, are you angry at your mother?

Yes, I am, I replied.

Never be too angry to know how to forget and forgive because there is where you are going to reap the reward.

Most of things she was saying never made sense to me. I began to feel that no one cares about my emotional needs. They are just taking care of my physical needs. I can honestly say that I was a seriously depressed teenager. I was nonchalant about anything. The more I see my classmates with their parents, the more angry I get. How can a mother throw her child in the middle of nowhere? I did not acknowledge the child and disappeared. One day I entered my room. I went to where clean linen was. I took a bedsheet, spread it, and changed my bedsheet. I sat down thinking how she dropped me off.

My mom was on the phone, wanting to know how I am doing. Auntie Maggie knocked at the door. I came out of room. She handed the phone to me.

How are you?

Fine.

I stayed on the phone until she said, Sarah, give the phone to my mother.

I did. Since that day, she has been calling at least twice in a month. I guess my grandmother relayed my feeling toward her. My grandmother always teaches me not to look back no matter how the circumstances may look forward and to never point a finger at no one. I think my grandmother was teaching me all this so I can shift the blame away from my mother. Her belief is to not judge. She never worshipped but believes in karma. What goes around will come around. She has another motto, that every human being plays the blame game. Blame brings nothing but sadness and hate. Whenever I started questioning my mother inside of me, I would think about my grandmother’s motto Her words always bring me back to my senses, especially when I am about to make a drastic decision. She influenced me in many ways, more than I can admit. All her beliefs, doctrines, and wisdom are subconsciously living inside of me. I can honestly say that I have never pointed a finger of blame to anyone no matter how.

My auntie lived with my grandmother half of her life. She lamented that after her marriage stopped working out, she decided to move back home and has been living with her mother; but she raised three successful children living on their own, Brian, Jaden, and Viola. I have never see any of them coming to visit their mother, but they always send gifts when they feel like it. I guess we have to follow the rule of the family to never point a finger of blame when it comes to certain things.

My auntie is more or less an assistant in raising me. She always does the shopping, reading, and walking with me; while my grandmother does the cooking and cleaning. She is more or less a homebody. I rarely see her with a friend. After coming from her cashiering job, she hardly steps of her bedroom unless she has to. She even referred her bedroom as her sanctuary. Any chance she gets, the only friend she talks to on the phone is Camila, her dear friend from the supermarket where she works. Sometimes I wish my mother followed her sister’s step not to remarry, so she can be available to raise me. Now when I am older, I realized that my wishful thinking is unrealistic. Auntie Margrett (Maggie) is a woman of moderate means. She applies moderation to every aspect of her life. She eats in moderation. The only thing that makes her angry is walking in her bedroom without her permission. A year before I finished high school, I told my auntie and my grandmother to refrain from doing shopping for me because I discovered that I always look like grandmother in whatever I wear, until my friend from school showed me where to shop. After high school, I enrolled in a community college at Mortgomery, Alabama. It was less than two hours by drive to our Opelika. I visit once in a month. I supported myself by money I made waitressing part time.

With emotional support from my Auntie Maggie and financial support from my grandmother, I fulfilled my dream of obtaining my associates in criminal justice. Despite fear of the unknown when I just moved out, I was happy that I did adjust well. I love my independence during my college years, owning my car, getting a makeup, even making friends of my age. Auntie Maggie stood up like a mother during my college years. She will call and leave messages. She will call until she actually talks to me. My mom also called once in a while. I was emotionally dependent on Auntie Maggie because she is the only voice of reason in my life.

As my graduation approached, I was eager to see my mother and my siblings. I pleaded to her to bring my siblings if it pleases her. She said it depends on her schedule and their availability. She said she will get back to me as soon as she discussed my request with her husband. My mom never talked about it until she suprised me one Friday afternoon. One of my landlord’s sons came knocking at my door. He knocked at it so hard as if the ground was burning with open flame.

Who is that? I asked in an angry voice.

Someone is here looking for you.

I came outside. When I saw her, it was as if I am looking at myself at the mirror.

You must be my precious daughter, Sarah Ann Smith.

I hugged her reluctantly. In my mind, I said, Hello, Bozo the Clown.

Jonathan, my landlord’s son, was looking at my demeanor and attitude toward my visitor. I thanked him for leading my visitor home to me. He left. He probably thought that I acted poorly toward my guess, especially for someone who never had a visitor since I have been living in their house. My mother looked at me cheerfully.

Sarah, turn back to the driveway, because your siblings are waiting for you.

I followed her to the driveway. I greeted my siblings. They hugged me as if we have been together for a long period of time.

My mother asked me in a humble voice, Sarah, if you do not mind, will you follow us to our hotel room? We will be here to bond with you for two weeks.

"Good, Ma. by the time. I looked as if I am checking my watch on my wrist. I answered her and told them to wait for me. To secure the house, I closed the door and checked that the iron was not plugged and that the stove has been turned off. I turned all electricity off. Then I suggested following them with my car, because it might be difficult to go to work with the van or it might be inconvenient to ask my mother to drop me off.

I did not want to question my mother for acting as if nothing happened, but she can sense how angry I am. Out of nowhere, she called me in a low tone.

Sarah, I know I owe you an explanation. I do not expect you to understand, but I will do the best I could to tell my side of the story.

I answered her, Ma, at an appropriate time, we will talk, if you care to, but right now, I have to go to work. I will ask for an emergency time off, so I can bond with you guys. But if my boss refuses, I might not be able to bond with you at all.

It is all right. Whatever your boss says, we will take it.

I left for work. I asked for an emergency time off sheet from my boss. He told me that by the time I finished my days off, I will get a feedback. I could not make it to my mother’s hotel room after the end of shift. I went straight to my apartment. I called her that we will see each other next day. The next day, I went to my mom’s hotel room. I was curious how she located me because no one visited nor asked for me casually since I was a student in the school; therefore, I asked her, Ma, I how did you locate me?

Sarah, before I explain myself on how I located you, I would like to draw your attention to the fact that you are free to call me Deborah. You are not required to call me mam, ma, or mother.

I replied, Because you are an absentee mother does not erase the fact that you are my biological mother. Ma, leave that part for me to worry about.

She kept quiet for a little while then said she just followed her faith to my school. And as nature has done it, a young boy who was standing next to her happened to be my landlord’s son, who was excited to bring them home. After the end of her story, she took the liberty of introducing my siblings to me, Jonah, Justin, Joseph, and Jennifer They all huggd me one at a time.

I said it loosely, The only thing I see in here is that you guys are creative with names.

She asked me, Why do you say that?

Because all my siblings’ names start with the letter J, I replied.

She said, Ah! I never paid attention to their names with a letter. I guess we have to ask their dad how he came up with names that start with the letter J.

My mom suggested we go to lunch first because she thinks lunchtime is approaching; therefore, we must be feeling hungry.

Fine, we all agreed with her.

We drove to a deli where we ate bistro and went back to hotel room. The anger I had in me the day before would not let me see her beauty. It was the next day after lunch that I paid attention to her. She looked elegant. Her skin looked perfect, polished, and shiny. Even my siblings’ skin looked shiny and silky. She looked like people on the upper east side that we all dream of. Her looks, dressing, and even the way she talks reflect someone who is well loaded with cash. I was seriously convinced that she is living a comfortable life. I was thinking, With a life like this, who would like to mess it up?

At dinner, I observed my siblings’ body language with my mother. They laugh and giggle like high school children. I was more or less like a stranger in a circus show. My mother saw how quiet I am. She quickly asked me if I wanted to ask my siblings questions.

I said, Yes, Ma.

As soon as I answered yes, all my siblings stopped throwing pranks and sarcastic comments to one another. They were listening to me.

Joseph, how old are you? Justine, how old are you? I asked them to introduce each other and their age.

Joseph introduced himself as twelve years old, Justin as ten years old, Jonah as nine years old, and Jennifer as eight years old. The only thing that made me happy most is when they said my mom always talks about me even if they have never laid their eyes on me, and Joseph confirmed my suspicion when he said, Sarah, you look just my mom.

I answered him, I think so too.

We left the restaurant to go back to the hotel room. I almost jumped out of the van that we were riding on. The behavior of my siblings is so repulsive that it will make a grown-up person scream. They were so restless; they throw tissues, fart, and spit. My mother seems to be their friend rather than their disciplinarian mother she was supposed to be. I knew that, growing up, I would have not stood a chance to display all these behavior my siblings were exhibiting. After we have reached the parking lot of the hotel, I informed my mom that I will not be able to follow them to their hotel room, because I am going to school the next morning. They all hugged me.

My mother whispered in my ear, Sarah, I love you so much.

I did not say I love you simply because I have not reached the conclusion in my heart if I am going to open my mind to let her in or not.

The next morning, my mother called to know if I am okay. I told her that I am all right and quickly told her that I will come straight to the hotel room after my classes because I am off from my job, –thank heaven for the emergency day off my boss granted me.

She quickly suggested, Sarah, why don’t I come to your apartment to talk because I am sensing that you have tons of words or questions you really want to unload?

Ma, I replied, I do not think it is a good idea to come to my apartment without an adult to supervise my siblings.

You are right, but how are we going to talk one on one without these children interfering with our conversation? she said.

I answered her, We will find a way. No matter, what happens, I will see you guys tommorrow.

She replied, Okay, Sarah, all right.

Good night, Ma.

The next morning, my mother told me that she got a solution to the kids problem. She said they will stay with a daycare that the hotel has for their guests. I told her that if she has a solution, then she can come.

CHAPTER 2

Conversation with My Mother

My apartment is at the back of the building, which permits me to see people as they are coming toward my apartment. I can see my mother through the window blind as she was coming from the parking lot. As she was walking toward me, I can see elegance in her steps. She looked more geogeous with that thick bracelet, one you can find for $800 at the department store. Her hair and nails were all made up and perfect. Her clothing hug every angle of her body. As she entered my room, she did not say much, but I can sense uneasiness on her body language, just like a small child searching for words to describe an offense that has been commited against him. I guess she could not express it to me how untidy my place was.

I quickly appologized by saying, I am so sorry for not being able to tidy the place up because I have been busy with work and school.

She just said it casually, Sarah, I am glad that you invited me over.

I answered her, Why would not I?

From her statement, I detected that her conscience is bordering her, almost like she is unworthy to be invited over to my place. I quickly lightened the uneasiness up.

Ma, I said, I do not know how your diet is like. I could have ordered pizza for us to eat while we are talking.

Pizza is okay, she said.

Okay, I will call for pizza to be delivered.

After calling for pizza, I sat on my little black futon couch, the one I normally turn to bed in the night if I am unable to go in the bedroom. I am not comfortable to joke with my mother yet, because our relationship is still in its infancy. Otherwise, I would have told her jokingly that I am a student and my place reflects who I am, a typical American student’s apartment.

While we are waiting for the pizza, Sarah, do you mind if I fold all these clothing you spread in your bedroom floor? she asked.

Ma, be my guest. I opened my bedroom for her.

Okay, she said, after we finish pizza.

She sat by the dining room table. I gave her orange juice. I was watching television. We have not conversed for almost three minutes when my mother decided to start folding all my clothing. I was amazed to see how fast she folded all my clothing that I had chunked on the floor.

Ma, you are fast.

I could not believe how she separated shirt and comforters, shocks, and my uniforms so quickly. She removed the mistery out of her generosity by telling me that she had been working in a well-known department store for three years before the family relocated to Fort Lee in New Jersey from Woolbroke. She said that is where she knew how to fold and tidy the place up so well. As we were talking, the pizza delivery man knocked at the door to deliver two boxes of pizza.

"Sarah,