Not Right now, is okay

She was gorgeous. If gorgeousness was packaged, she was the type you had to order from a special organic brand which would be mailed to you in 4 – 5 business days. Those in the village she lived in were lucky to catch so much as a glimpse of her walking past. Her name was Usiku.

Her skin was ebony like freshly made dark chocolate with a glossy finish. Her hair was short and tough but she never bothered to comb it; almost as if to rejoice with it in its African splendor, almost as if to say, “grow, and let nothing, not even me, stop you from reaching your full potential”. Her almond- shaped eyes sparkled with the delight and wonder of a child but if you had the chance to gaze deeply into them, you would see the story of dark times survived. When she walked, she swayed as if she was in an eternal dance with the crisp wind.

Her attitude was as tough as her hair. She wasn’t always like that though. She had grown up in abusive household and was now on her own, free from her past – chains she had to suffer years of psychological turmoil to break. She knew real freedom and was not about to let it out of her sight. Her younger sister, the only other person who lived with her, was her everything. Together the 21 year old and 13 year old nurtured each other in love, strength and vicious determination. It was a bond unlike any other. Usiku and her little sister went to the same school every morning, her as a teacher of the kindergarten class and her sister a devoted student.

They managed to make ends meet. It was a stretch on most months but when Usiku got her end of the year bonus, they would go into the town and buy a small delicate cake, from one of the better known bakeries. This would be the cake to celebrate all birthdays and Christmases but most important of all, their lives that had gone peacefully for yet another year. Their parents had been a complicated part of their lives and to have experienced the loss and the relief from the turmoil was difficult, but this beautiful cake was a reminder that life was like that sometimes, and that they were still here.

One particular morning, in early December, as they were getting to ready to leave for school Usiku heard a knock on her door. It was the postman, Muli, who shyly handed her a letter. “Ah Muli,” Usiku said with a warm smile, “what do you have for me today?” Taken aback by her beauty, Muli was stunned into silence, then, finally remembering his words he replied. “I hope nothing but good news “, he said bashfully as he mounted his bike, “have a wonderful day! “. She examined the sturdy envelope as she closed the door and noticed the curved font of the letters in her address. “Hmm, typed... impressive,” she thought. It did not have a return address; just her name and a few details describing her address. She slipped it into her bag deciding to open it later as she couldn’t afford to be late. She climbed onto her bike while her sister climbed onto the space behind her and they rode off leaving little clouds of red dust rising off into the crisp early morning air.

The day went by quickly, her students were a constant source of joy for her and she felt sorry to see them advance into the next class but excited for the new set of minds coming her way next year. As she packed the thin workbooks away, her sister walked in. “Usi,” she said affectionately, “always the last teacher to leave, eh?” “Ahh, I see you’ve come to make noise for me,” she said grabbing her sister into a tight hug. “Aiii, stop!” she mumbled as she wriggled out of the embrace, “you do your thing, I’ll just read here, let me know when you’re done.” Usiku chuckled as she walked back to her desk, she found it endearing how her sister pretended not to like displays of affection, yet she knew when they got home, she would sneak in a hug or two.

She sat down to mark the books, when she noticed the envelope’s edge peeking out of her bag in the corner. She took it out and tore it open to reveal a neatly folded A4 paper. She unfolded it gingerly as she wondered why anyone would write a letter in this day and age.

Dear Ms. Usiku,

My fingers are trembling but I knew that I had to type this in order for it to be legible. I hope that this letter reaches you safely. I hope you excuse that I did not disclose my information; I promise I have no ulterior motives.

I just wanted to communicate with you somehow since I feel like the chances I had to talk to you, I destroyed on my own. How are you? How is your sister? It has been quite a while since we last saw each other and now I feel like we might not have a chance to do so in the future. As you’ve probably guessed, I can imagine a letter from your mother was the last thing you expected.

I hope the fact that it is from me doesn’t stop you from reading this. I can imagine that you associate me with pain and hurt. I know that no amount of apologies is ever going to be enough but I am so sorry, for all of it. No child should ever have to go through what you two went through and I am immensely grateful to you for taking your sister with you that night when you escaped. You saved her life.

It has been a number of years and you might be wondering, why now? Well, that man is long gone and I have had a good amount of time to reflect on all the bad life decisions I have made as a woman and as a mother to you both. My heart bleeds when I really think of all the pain he subjected you to and my part to play in worsening the situation. I was blinded by the abusive relationship itself but that is no way an excuse for ruining another’s life.

I ask not for forgiveness and writing this letter in no way absolves me from being such a horrible mother to you. I can only hope that God heard my prayers and that you are now doing okay for yourselves. You do not have to write back, of course. When I found out where you lived and that you were doing relatively well, that was all I needed.

Naturally, I was too ashamed to face you. I just thought that you should hear from me at least once. Hear that I love you both because I never got that many chances to express it. I wish you both well and if God allows our paths to cross one day, I can hug my children again and let you know once more how sorry I am.

Love,

Mum.

Usiku’s tears spotted the page. She missed her mother of course. She missed the childhood she never got to have. She remembered how her mother would often shield them from her father’s drunken lashes and other times they weren’t that lucky. The night that they left, their mother woke up and caught them sneaking out into the compound. She silently walked over to them and handed them a bag with clothes, some money and some food. They all silently sobbed as they realized that this might be the last time they saw each other. She hugged and kissed them both; whispering that she would try and look for them after all of it was over. The last thing Usiku saw of her as she turned back for the last time were her teary eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Their hollowness haunted her dreams for many of the cold, hard nights that followed.

They had struggled on the streets for a while until a nice elderly lady in a nearby village took them in, housing them in exchange for their help with labor around the house. The rest of the years were a blur as she aged becoming more dependent on the growing girls. She soon passed away, leaving the girls once again with a feeling of loss. They were able to keep the small house while Usiku attended free teacher training courses being during the night, and small jobs during the day with the help of her sister. She would eventually start her placement at the local school while her sister attended classes for free. It was more than they could have hoped for given the cards they had been dealt in life.

Usiku gently folded the letter and kept it in her bag, quickly wiping away her tears. Her sister looked up at her. “Is everything ok? Why are you crying?” Usiku looked puzzled for a second as she raised her head in response. “Everything is fine baby, ready to go?” as she slung her bag over her shoulder. She knew that it must have also been hard for her mother to lose both her children all in one day. For a while she tried to contact her but after receiving radio silence, she thought that maybe she had lost her, or that she did not want to be contacted. This letter had shaken her to her core; to know that she was still alive. She could not describe most of what she was feeling but she was relieved that her mother had survived him too.

She turned off the classroom lights and locked the door behind them. She observed her sister’s shoulders sagging from fatigue, her face nonchalant as her black shoes dragged gently across the earth. Usiku was thankful that they had gotten this far together. She had done something right. As for what she would do regarding her mother, if anything at all, only time would tell. She didn’t have to worry about that right this second. Her sister turned to her and smiled, melting all her tension away. As the wind ushered them into the evening, Usiku felt the warmth rush back into her body.

“Let’s go home,” she said. They cycled away, leaving the red dust rising with the promise of tomorrow.