Walking Back Into The Future

INTO THE FUTURE

"Come closer, Nneoma I have things I must say to you," my mother said as she laboured to breathe in the ICU of the state general hospital. I was already sitting on the bed but I leaned in closer so I could hear her whisper of words.

"Yes mum," I replied, very proud that she couldn't tell I have been crying for the better part of the day.

"I thought I would have more time with you. I thought we had our whole lives ahead of us. I still have so much to teach you, so much you still have to learn. But we are not God and he had decided it's my time." she paused to use the oxygen mask for a few seconds before speaking.

"I am sorry mum," I apologised as if her dying of lungs cancer was somehow my fault. I was only twelve years old. What could I have done? And she knew that too.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. I don't want to waste my breath saying things that won't benefit your life so listen very carefully to these five things I have to tell you. I want you to keep them close to your heart. Always make sure one of them applied in the things you do."

She dragged in more oxygen. I took the oxygen mask from her to do it myself. I had tried to do it before but she refused but I could tell she didn't want to spend energy rejecting my help.

"Tell me, mum," I prompted, opening my memory recorder.

"Being the daughter of a widow who was accused of killing her husband is already a stain against you. Everything and everyone in this town will work against you. Therefore, you must be selfish and greedy to get what you want. Life has already humbled your gentle soul to my miserable home so be greedy. Do things for yourself first and second and third before you consider another person. I have lived my life trying to please and appease a lot of people and it got me nothing extra in life, not even personal satisfaction. Be greedy, it's not a crime to want, to desire, are you listening?" she whispered.

I placed the mask over her face as I absorbed her words into my very skin. "Yes. I am. I will be greedy and selfish."

"Secondly, always forgive yourself, no matter what you have done. Always forgive yourself. Forgiveness will help you move on and no matter what you do, you can never become the greatest sinner in the world. I never forgave myself for a lot of things, including driving your father to his death so don't be like me. It held me down, stained my soul and made me sick even though he deserved it for touching my child," she finished before she started coughing.

I gave her the oxygen. I had always suspected my mother had something to do with my father's demise. I remembered it had been one week after he had tried to get me to touch his members when I was only six years old and had asked me to keep it a secret from my mother, but I could never lie to my mother so I had told her and one week later, he simply went missing. I never knew what happened but I knew mum had done something. He wasn't really my father. My mother was married off to him after the person who got her pregnant skipped town.

"Third, the third one is, you must try to leave this country anyway you can. Nigeria is sitting on a mountain of gun powder and everyone has a lighter. No one knows who will light it up or when it will blow. Nneka, you are poor, you have no one. That’s why you need to be greedy in order to escape this country. Greedy, selfish and efficient. Are you paying attention?"

"I am mother," I said as I finally allowed the tears to start flowing again. I couldn't hold it any longer. What was I going to do without my mother? I wondered as I placed the oxygen mask on her.

"Fourth one," she said, using her hand to wipe away the mask from her face. "Fourth one. Be very suspicious of all human beings, especially men. The world is not moving forward today, and it is mostly because of men. They are a different breed of humans. If I had been careful of men, I would have had a better life. Seeing as I am leaving you so young, a lot of people, mostly men will try to take advantage of you. You will have to guard your back and front, so suspect everyone and question everything. It will help you a lot."

"Yes, mum. I will. Can you stop now? You need to rest," I begged her.

"I will have all my rest when I die. It won't take long. Last one, education. I didn't have any education but I can see the difference it makes in people's lives. That’s why I did everything I could to make sure you went to school and got good grades. Don’t stop when I am gone. Education will lift you. There are free education and scholarships you can get. You are smart and beautiful, don't waste it. As God is my witness, if you waste it, I will come and haunt you," she added with a smile.

"I won't waste it," I promised. "That’s the last one. You should sleep now. I will get the nurse to...”

She shook her head from side to side.

"If I sleep, I will not wake up again. The last word I have for you is a favour. Nneka, since the day you were born, you were my world and I was your world. We were each other's everything. You breathed me and I inhaled you. But we are separating now."

"Oh, mum. Please don't say that." I cried, placing my head on her shoulder,

"But I must. It’s not easy for me, leaving you behind. When I found out I was dying, I thought about taking you with me because I couldn't bear leaving you behind. My little angel, my visible soul," mum said, running her hand over my face and wiping my tears away. I cried harder as if that was possible.

"That’s it, my love. My last favour is for you to cry for me here. Mourn me right here where I can console you and wipe away your tears. Let your tears be my first embalming fluid. Wail for me right now when I am alive to console you," she said with tears spilling out the side of her eyes.

I felt like a dam had broken in my chest, I could almost hear an audible crack as if something came loose inside me. I cried, and cried and wailed without regard for others in the hospital, I balled my eyes out while my mother patted my hair and did her best to wipe the tears that won't stop flowing.

"You are wicked mum. You are very wicked. How can you leave me? Why didn't you take me with you? I would have come. What will I do without you? You are very wicked," I repeated as I shook her slightly with frustration and curdled agony.

"I am sorry, Nnem. I am very sorry. You will do everything. I will always be with you. I told you before," she assured me as she took the oxygen mask beside the bed to place on her face as if she was trying to prolong her life.

"Liar. Liar. You are lying. You are dying," I shouted on top of my voice, refusing to be consoled.

A nurse came in and tried to talk to me.

"Please leave us alone. You can come back and take my body," she told the nurse who turned and left the room.

"I will hate you, you know. I will never forgive you for leaving me."

"Don’t forgive me. I don't want my soul to rest in peace," she said, wiping more tears from my face.

"Oh, mum. Why must it be you? God knows you are all I have. Why must it be you?" I asked as I gently placed my head on her chest and cried silently. I couldn't even feel her chest rise and fall.

"God is a bastard," she said, making me laugh through my tears. I knew she didn't mean that. Mum loved God and did her best to follow the bible within reason.

"I will not follow God the way you did mother," I informed her.

"I hoped you won't. There my child. No more tears. When I pass on, try to keep your tears at bay. People will want to take advantage of a beautiful grieving child. Let your sorrow rest with me, heart of mine. And know that I love you more than words can say," she said.

"I love you too mum. I do, I do, I do," I repeated but she didn't hear me. She never did.

70 Years Later. Back to the Present

“Did the advice help make your life better?” my daughter, Nnenne asked as she held my hand with tears in her eyes. It has been more than seventy years since my mother died and I was sure I was about to join her. I could almost see her.

I smiled weakly. I wasn’t afraid of dying. Unlike my mother whose death was untimely, I was ready for death.

“Her words provided a guide which I followed. I left Nigeria, I got all the education I could get, I used my body, my beauty and my brains like weapons and bullets to achieve what was best for me. It didn’t always protect me from the horrors that I was dealt but it helped me survive it. Maybe you can answer it for me now you know the full story. Do you think her advice helped me?”

“I think it did mum. It was what you needed and it was the cement your foundation was built on so I think it did,” my daughter replied.

“So why do I feel empty inside? Why do I feel dirty and just exhausted from standing upright? I did my best mother. You know that,” I told my mother, hoping she would understand that I followed her advice as I had promised. I took her strong hands into mine and squeezed tightly, hoping she could feel my love for her.

“I know you did. You are such a brave fighter. I am so sorry you feel empty inside but I am here now. I will feel you up with all the love you need, my love,” mum assured me as she gently rubbed my face with her loving palm.

“You know, I missed you so much, mum. But I was brave. After the hospital took you and said you were dead, I didn’t cry. I didn’t shed a tear. I was strong like you told me, then I went to school the very next day because we had a quiz I couldn’t afford to miss. People thought I was crazy,” I told my mother with a laugh that turned into a cough.

“Of course you did my dear. You were always brave,” my mother said before she stood up and left the room, sobbing very loudly. I didn’t understand. Why was she crying if she thought I was brave? Did I do something wrong?

A tall black man came and sat beside my bed. I didn’t recognize him but he looked familiar. I was always wary of men but this one didn’t put me on edge. Who was he?

“Who are you? Do you know me? Where did my mother go? Why is she crying? Did you make her cry?” I asked all at once.

“Mum, I am your son, Odika and that was your daughter, Nnenneoma. Just give her a moment…”

I cut him off because he wasn’t making sense.

“I don’t have a son. My mother just left the room. Can you ask her to come back? Is she mad at me?” I wanted to know as my eyes blurred up with tears. I must have done something wrong. “Please ask her to come back. I will be good. She can’t leave me again,” I insisted as I started crying. My heart was just tired of staying strong. I wanted my mother.

“Mum, just relax. Nne will be back soon,” the strange young man who was now crying too told me as he tried to hold my hand to calm me.

I beat his hand away. I wanted my mother.

“Mum! Mum! Moooootherrrr! Muuuuuum! Please come back,” I shouted.

Someone I recognised as a nurse came into the room in a big rush.

“Can you please bring my mother back? She was right here,” I told the nurse.

“I am right here, child,” my mother said as she walked back into the room, sat on the bed, lifted my head onto her laps and started rocking me. It was heaven.

“I thought you left again. I will be good. Please don’t leave me,” I pleaded with her.

“Never. I didn’t leave. I just went out for some fresh air.”

“Who is he?” I asked, referring to the young man sobbing in the corner. “Why is he crying?”

Mum made a little sound before clearing her throat to answer.

“here. look at this picture," she said, handing me her tablet. "His story is a very sad story, honey,” mum told me.

“Tell me about it,” I invited as I looked at the red picture of a red own that by all information from the picture, was trapped in a barn. There was something haunting about the picture and the young man. the picture seemed to calm me or it could be that mum was back.

“He is mourning his mother, a great black woman who overcame all obstacles but whose brain is decaying and this makes him so sad. Nneoma, his mother...”

“That’s my name too. What a coincidence,” I interrupted. What were the odds?

“Yes, you have the same name. Despite being an orphan at the age of twelve, his mother grew up to become an outstanding immigration lawyer, helping people from Nigeria to move and settle in other countries. Nneoma followed the advice she got from her mother before she died to become a phenomenal woman and mother. She got married twice to men who valued her but was twice widowed. She is considered a lifesaver by many people including her daughter. She was lonely though, my dear. Everyone could tell she was lonely because she missed her mother. Two years ago, old age and sickness came for her brains and her mind was attacked by dementia. It ate away at her brain until there was little left. His own mother doesn’t remember him anymore and that makes him sad,” my mum explained to me as she rocked me back and forth in her arm. She was crying too. It was indeed a sad story. What an unfortunate woman.

“Oh, dear. Poor child. It would kill me if you couldn’t remember me. Maybe you should tell him the five pieces of advice you gave me. It really helped me a lot. Maybe he will learn from it as I did.”

“Yes. Maybe he will.”

I smiled, then closed my eyes and went to sleep in my mother’s arm. How dearly I have missed her.

“Don’t ever forget me, mum. I will never forget you,” I promised.

“I will never forget you too, mum. I love you, I do,” mum told me and I heard her. She might not have been around all the time for she had to answer the call from her creator but she made me what I was today and I was happiest she heard my final promise.

The end.