A Mother’s Heart Bleeds

By Juliet Chudie

In "A Mother's Heart Bleeds," Oluchukwu shares her family's harrowing stories of abuse, betrayal, and tragedy. From her father's mistreatment of her mother to her own experiences of molestation, the narrative explores the devastating consequences of these actions. The story also delves into her brothers' descent into a life of crime, her sister's shocking revelation about her husband, and the profound impact these events had on her mother's mental health. Ultimately, the book portrays the indomitable strength of a mother's love in the face of unimaginable challenges.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BooxAi
• Release date: Nov 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9789655786309

Book preview

1

It was a heart-wrenching scene to witness mummy in such a vulnerable state, swaddled on her bed like an oversized infant, halfway laid and sobbing. As I entered the room, she quickly wiped away her tears, attempting to conceal her emotional distress. However, the pale and red eyes betrayed her facade, revealing that something was deeply wrong.

Without a doubt, I knew in my heart that it was daddy’s irresponsible actions that were the cause of mummy’s anguish. Mr. Ifeka had been absent from the house for two weeks, neglecting to inform anyone, not even his wife, about his whereabouts. This lack of consideration was compounded by the fact that mummy had no source of income and no means to provide for the family's basic needs.

With a regained composure, I mustered the courage to her what was going on, addressing her with utmost respect as Nne mu (my mummy). Despite her pretense, denying any knowledge of the situation, the tension in the room was palpable. The unspoken truth hung heavily in the air, and I was left to grapple with the weight of daddy’s absence and the impact it had on our family

Crying! Noooo' she said as she touched her eyes probably to feel If tears could still be felt Mom knew I was a child but didn't know as much as how that tangible childhood experience Was wholly torn by them my parents, she comfortably felt telling me or sharing her depressions with me would be of no credit as I won't be able to contribute any reasonable thing, I knew everything, may be not entirely everything but I knew as much as how cruel and irresponsible my daddy was, having carefully observed the countless of time, he has always not been there, the number of time my mummy and Nnenna, my most elder sister has always gone out at the dead of night to carry him home from where he almost dropped dead as a result of his often drunken state and as well as the number of times, two or four men have come to warn my mummy to tell his husband to stay off their wives.

My daddy could have been wealthier than he was and might have even turned out a land lord but he practically lived without a plan, he measures shoulders with the great and might, even as a tenant, he rides the best vehicle in the vicinity and wears just the best clothes.

Mummy! came sister Nne's voice before she showed up, standing just at mummy's door.

What are we eating this morning? she asked with a deep sigh as her shoulders relaxed with her hand nervously rubbing her hair.

Have you warmed the soup? mom asked her

Yes ma'"

"Ok please eh, go and plead mama Kosy to give us four cups of garri on credit' Mom said with a swap in her facial expression. tears.

Eba again I icily gave in grudgingly.

It's well my daughter, it can only get better Mom said.

One remarkable trait you notice in my mummy is her unwavering calm nature. She is someone who refuses to give in to difficult situations and firmly believes that tomorrow will bring better things. It's truly admirable.

As Nnenna swiftly left, I followed her closely, matching her pace. Sensing my uneasiness, I spoke up, Sister, I'm going with you. She responded with a reassuring nod and took hold of my hand as we descended the stairs together.

Mama Kosy, a wonderful and understanding young woman, owns a shop just a few yards away from our house. In times when we have nothing to eat, my mummy often sends us to her to get things on credit. Remarkably, Mama Kosy has never once declined or complained about extending her help. She has shown us immense kindness throughout our visits.

Unfortunately, luck was not on our side as we approached Mama Kosy's shop. Mama Ejike, a notorious troublemaker and gossip, was seated right next to her, deeply engrossed in their discussion. Even from a distance, it was evident that their conversation was intense.

Feeling a surge of fear, I couldn't help but express my concerns to my sister, Sister Nne, let's go back. The presence of Mama Ejike made me apprehensive about proceeding any further.

Perhaps we can wait for a while until Mama Ejike finishes her discussion or consider returning later when the atmosphere has settled

Mama Ejike' I said

Let’s go joor, she can say as much as she wants but we can't deny ourselves food because of her Nnenna said and lightly dragged me along until we nearly entered the shop, then she eased her hold on my fist.

Good morning Ma's" we greeted them both at once.

Umu nne mu ke ka unu me? she asked us in

Igbo (my sisters, how are you?)

Anyi di mma sister Nne replied.

What of your mom and the rest of your siblings?" she asked as she stood up and made to the inner part of her shop.

Come in here she said signaling us.

What do you want?" she asked lowering her

Mummy asked you should please give us four cups of garri on credit, that she would pay back as soon as our Daddy returns, sister Nne said pleadingly.

No problems she said then reached for a black nylon and without a cup measure filled garri for Us.

Have it she handed the nylon to Nnenna.

Ah! Aunty thank you so much, God bless you sister Nnenna said as she took the garri from the Woman.

I stood there, speechless and unable to find the right words to respond to the woman's remarks. My expression must have revealed a mix of surprise and shock, but I couldn't articulate my emotions at that moment.

Mama Ejike, with an air of superiority, raised her voice and accused us, Hope, you people paid for those things in that nylon, right? I know you people very well. You're always buying things on credit, acting like you're rich but hungry. She punctuated her words with a dismissive snap of her fingers, as if rejecting our presence.

In contrast, Mama Kosy bravely stood up for us, rebuking Mama Ejike, That's not fair!

Ignoring the troublesome woman, we walked out of the shop. Tears streamed down my face, and I allowed myself to feel the weight of the hurtful words that echoed in my mind, Rich hungry people. It struck a nerve deep within me, making me feel terrible about our situation.

Sister Nne, understanding my pain, expressed her frustration, May God forgive that gossip of a woman, who parades herself gossiping from pillar to post. God will punish her. We didn't come to her to beg, after all, she said with a hint of anger.

As we entered our house, I noticed that Nonso, my immediate elder brother, had already prepared water for the eba and was waiting for us in the kitchen. He swiftly took the garri from my hands and placed it on the kitchen table, which our mummy had made me wash thoroughly just three days ago. Then, he reached for the big blue bowl we often used to make eba.

Unable to resist teasing him, I quickly said, Nonso, you really love food, and playfully ran away.

From my mummy's room, I could hear Sister Nnenna informing her about Mama Ejike's disrespectful behavior at the shop. She insulted us without even flinching, Sister Nne's voice conveyed her disbelief and frustration.

I found myself standing on tiptoe, trying to eavesdrop on their conversation, eager to understand how my mummy would respond to such an insult.

2

The Ifeka family, led by Mr. Dennis Ifeka, is a home blessed with six nearly grown children. Currently, our eldest sister, Nnenna, is in her final year at the prestigious University of Nsukka, studying Education Management and Policy. She possesses a heart of gold and is a shining example to us all.

Chukwurah, the second child and first son, made a bold decision to stop pursuing higher education. He firmly believed that university graduates end up working for secondary school dropouts, deeming further studies unnecessary. Without informing anyone of his whereabouts, he left home one afternoon, and for nearly two years now, we have not heard or seen him. This absence has left our mummy's heart shattered into pieces.

Amaka, our vivacious third child, recently completed her SSCE and moved to stay with a friend who is a Reverend daddy. Surprisingly, she recently sent us a message expressing her intention to soon join the convent and become a Reverend Sister. My initial thought upon hearing this news was that Amaka, with her mischievous nature, would find it incredibly challenging to adapt to the disciplined life of a convent. She has always been a troublemaker, constantly causing chaos wherever she goes.

Emeka, our incredibly adorable brother, is the fourth child in the family. His passion for football led him to neglect his studies, causing our daddy to cease his educational sponsorship. Despite our daddy's pleas for Emeka to stop sneaking out to play ball or risk losing his school fees, Emeka couldn't resist his love for the game. As a result, our daddy officially stopped paying for his education and resorted to calling him derogatory names like efulefu (good for nothing).

Nonso, the fifth child, is currently in his fourth year at the Community Secondary School, just like me, although we are in different classes.

Personally, school has never been as enjoyable for me as it is for other children. I am deprived of the basic necessities required for learning. While our daddy ensures our school fees are paid, he neglects to provide us with books or any other essential materials. Our mummy, unfortunately, cannot contribute due to her lack of income, as our daddy restricts her from engaging in any form of work. According to our daddy, a woman's role is solely to attend to domestic needs. My mummy, being ignorant and submissive, never argues or disrespects her husband's decisions.

My peers often tease me about witnessing my daddy spending time with some of our female teachers at bars and guest houses. If my memory serves me right, I distinctly remember overhearing a conversation between my mummy and Nnenna one day. They discussed how my daddy had abandoned my mummy in the village after paying her dowry and impregnating her. He left under the pretense of securing a contract and promised to return for her. Weeks turned into months, and my mummy's pregnancy progressed, but no word came from him. It was only two weeks after she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy that he reappeared, laden with gifts for my mummy and the newborn. He offered apologies and stayed in the village for just two days before pleading to leave, promising to return and move them to Onitsha by the weekend.

The haunting words of my mummy still send chills down my spine, just as they did the first time I overheard her say, Just exactly one week after your daddy left to Onitsha without showing up the weekend as he promised, the lovely baby of mine convulsed and passed on. The grief in her voice was palpable, and I believe she even broke down sobbing.

Even after receiving the news of the baby's tragic demise, my daddy showed no remorse or made any effort to come to her , according to my mummy. Weeks passed, and she waited in vain for him to come back to the village. It was only after the intervention of his relative (Umunna) that my mummy, accompanied by my daddy's younger brother, Boska, decided to go to Onitsha and seek his opinion on the future of their marriage. On the second day of their visit, they arrived at my daddy's apartment in Onitsha. This marked her first visit to a township, as my mummy had mentioned.

Upon knocking on the door, a fair-skinned lady, wearing a wrapper around her chest, answered. She asked who they were, but Boska ignored her and pushed the door open, with me anxiously following behind. Boska immediately asked the fair-skinned lady, Where is Dennis? His voice carried a hint of anger, but she simply ignored him, chewing her gum and remaining silent. A few minutes later, my daddy emerged and shouted at Boska for bringing her to Onitsha.

I will only allow you people the grace to spend the night here, and tomorrow you had better start going back to the village, Dennis declared. Boska, however, stood his ground and insisted that my daddy tell Ifeyinwa, my mummy, her position in the marriage. He wanted to know if my daddy was still interested or if they should break away. After a heated argument, Boska left for the village the next morning, refusing to take her along. She felt a sense of sadness, but there was nothing she could do.

Each daybreak brought a new woman into your daddy's life. He introduced my mummy to everyone as his younger sister, and she never objected. She cleaned, washed, and prepared meals for him and his various girlfriends. Every night, she endured the pain of another woman sharing his bed, moaning sweetly while she slept on a mat on the floor. In the morning, after the woman left, my daddy would come to her and have his way with her as well. She later convinced herself that this was how city people married their wives, and she never dared to complain. This went on , until one day when she declined his request due to the fatigue that comes with early pregnancy. He became furious, accusing her of being tired because she had already satisfied herself with the young boys in the neighborhood. He beat her, tied her to the bed, and forced himself on her.

The weight of these experiences, the pain, and the abuse inflicted upon my mummy cannot be easily expressed. It has been a dark chapter in her life that she still struggles to overcome.

After I overheard that conversation she had with sister Nne, each time I looked at her and imagined her tied to a bed, she often appeared as the strangest thing I have ever set my eyes on in the world. She went on again

It wasn't until I started bearing kids that people found out, the truth about us and many of them expressed pity for me cause initially the married woman in the neighborhood had me go errands for them without knowing am someone's wife too. I often did whatever they asked of me without complaining. Mummy said again

You left us hungry for days daddy sister Nnenna's voice came from the sitting room. I moved towards the sitting room to know whom she was talking to, and behold it was daddy, he is back.

Sister Nne stood there, clutching daddy's briefcase, and whispered something to him. She was the only person who could talk to daddy and have him listen. As the family accountant, daddy trusted her with money, giving it to her instead of mummy.

OMALICHA mu o, biko gbahara, daddy apologized, it escaped my mind, my trip wasn't planned, and it needed urgent attention. He looked genuinely sorry.

What about your mummy? he asked. I watched them from a corner, hidden from their view. As daddy started walking towards the corridor, I quietly tiptoed back to our room and sat on the bed, my eyes fixed on sister Nne's body lotion, which stood out among the other items on the table.

Sister Nnenna and daddy entered mummy's room together, and I observed from our room. I heard snippets of their conversation, but I was tired of eavesdropping on them, so I closed my eyes and waited for daddy to call Nonso, as he often did. But this time, he didn't. I opened my eyes and glanced out of the window.

Our compound was spacious, capable of accommodating a long queue of a hundred people. Evening was approaching, and soon school children would start coming back, ending the calmness that enveloped the compound. I despised the sight of spirogyra on the walls, especially during the rainy season. Unfortunately, our old two-story building wasn't immune to it.

Olii! sister Nne called out, and I noticed her feet entering the room as my eyes shifted to the floor.

Yes, sister, I replied, looking up at her. She held a large bundle of money in her hand.

I want you to go to mama Kosy's shop and use this money to settle our debts, she instructed, extending the money towards me. Count it, she added, studying me curiously.

Three thousand two hundred, I stated,