reading

Contents

Imprint

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 1

‘I name her Iyobosa,’ said Ogidi, at the traditional Izomo naming Bini tribe ceremony of mid-western Nigeria. The new-born baby struggled aimlessly and unconsciously for freedom from the two massive hands of the adult male that held her high.

‘She will be Iyobo for short, a name meaning “help”. She will live out her name. Through her, the entire Ogidi family will shine. She will not die prematurely. She will be great. She will be the best among many. She will be a present help to her parents, brothers and sisters in times of trouble and with her help, our family standing will rise.’

The man held the baby up, showing her off to family and assembled guests. Everyone answered “isẹ” to mean “Amen” at each breath of the prayer made by Ogidi, the child’s father.

‘I have made my ancestors proud again by producing this twelfth child. I am really happy because the newly arrived is the only daughter amid three sons of my third and last wife,’ Ogidi breathed out, taking a shy look at the woman sitting close to him at his left hand side. All the guests laughed and briefly teased Itota, the baby’s mother, whom many knew was Ogidi’s favourite wife.

The naming ceremony lasted the whole evening. Pieces of kola nuts and carefully chopped coconuts all muddled up in a deep clay bowl was served first. There was plenty of palm wine and “native gin”. These fruits and drinks were used to offer special prayers to the god of fertility who had at that point been faithful twelve times in Ogidi’s household. Holding up the bowl of fruits with eyes wide open and staring into the heavens, the elder of the group offered prayers to the gods appealing for more fruitfulness both in their homes and their farms.

‘May we never know barrenness in our homes and in our farms,’ he concluded his prayers to which they all answered “isẹ”.

Men took broken kola nuts while women went for finely chopped coconut, which they all gently and skilfully scraped, using their right thumbnail and gathering tiny pieces in the palm of the same hand. They then scraped the crumbs on the front part of their heads and said a prayer for the baby and then for themselves. This ritual was their part of the blessing. The men drank the alcohol while the women drank Coke and Fanta. Afterwards, pounded yam and egusi soup was served to the men and a few of the elderly women. The others ate rice with tomato stew. For this occasion, Ogidi had ordered the slaughter of a goat which was a very rare treat as before he had slaughtered only chicken for naming ceremonies. While eating, they told jokes, laughed and sang, before eventually drifting happily to their own homes. Ogidi hoped that this occasion would not stir up more of the jealousy that already existed among his wives. What was important was that the naming ceremony was complete and baby could now legally bear the name her father called her, Iyobosa.

***

After the ceremony, Itota was filled with mixed feelings. Baby Iyobo was her fourth child and her only girl. Her other three were six, four and two years old. The three boys were named according to their parents’ situations at that time. Moses, the oldest, was named after the great biblical leader. The Jehovah’s Witnesses who came every week for Bible study spoke most highly of him. Sunday was named so because he was born on a Sunday. For Imaduoyi, it was a response to people’s malicious comments when they saw that the first two sons of Itota couldn’t walk and were lame on both legs. To these unkind words, Itota responded with “Imaduoyi” meaning, “I have not faulted.” She begged Ogidi to please let her third son bear this name and he agreed.

The entire village perceived Itota to be an evil woman. This was because it was believed that her first three children, all boys, were struck by the god called “Esuu” the spirit that devoured limbs, leaving the children unable to walk after being attacked. Moses was struck down when he was two years old, while Sunday suffered at the age of four. Imaduoyi was only a year old when the spirit struck again without warning.

‘Why would such evil befall only one individual?’ they all asked in the village. Ogidi had been summoned many times to the “Oguedion” the local palace of the traditional ruling council. He was invited to explain to the elders what they thought was a result of a sin committed by his wife, Itota. Ogidi loved his wife too much to even think she had any spiritual problem. The case had been lingering for years.

Before Itota conceived Iyobo, she had visited at least seven native doctors. She had made all the sacrifices required. The only one she found hard to comply with was when the seventh sorcerer asked to have sex with her as a way to effect a permanent cure of the disease. On that day, the mother of three had been seen leaping out of the native doctor’s hut like a gazelle being chased by a cheetah. Some girls talked about it while fetching water from the village river, they said that Itota was furious and full of rage. They wondered what must have set her on such an emotional blaze.

Itota knew well that adultery was a crime against Erimwionwa, the family god that ensured fidelity to whom she had sworn to at the time of her marriage to Ogidi. She had knelt before this fearsome looking god and vowed fidelity to her husband. If she was unfaithful, she would be provoking the wrath of the god against herself and her children. She refused to tell anyone exactly what the native doctor had demanded of her. Her decision to be quiet was born out of a desire not to be misconstrued rather than fear. Any sloppy move could bring a curse on me and my children even up to a couple of generations to come, she thought.

When she got married, she was eighteen years old. That was the average age for girls to get married in her time. She was slim, tall, beautiful and very light skinned. Her mother, Alice, once told some people she was often referred to as “iyebo”, to mean “mother of the white girl”. But it was Itota’s character which gained her the deepest part of Ogidi’s heart. She kept quiet all the time except when she was directly asked a question.

Itota’s parents didn’t bother to send her to school because they believed that sending a female child to school was a complete waste of time and resources. She was from a polygamous home of about eighteen children borne by five wives to a gentleman who was the most skilful bicycle repairer in the village. Itota’s mother was the second wife. She was very hardworking. The piece of farmland allocated to her by her husband was often the best and most cultivated. Bad weeds were hardly seen among the good plants. She planted cassava, maize and yams. She also had a small garden for a continuous supply of vegetables. Her barn of yams was only compared to that of men. None of the women folk could boast of a larger barn than hers. All her children, male and female, were called to the task when it was time to harvest any crop. They barned some for home consumption, saved some seedlings for next planting season and sold the rest. The money they got was used to buy items they couldn’t produce, such as palm oil and clothes. Rumour even had it that Alice set traps for animals, an activity traditionally reserved only for the men folk. When confronted about this sacrilege, she justified her action by saying that she had the right to set traps in her farm to prevent invaders. She further added that if there was any animal caught in the process, she would happily take it home. Her husband had warned her several times to stop hunting, although he never refused to eat the food she cooked with the meat.

Alice, Itota’s mother and Iyobo’s grandmother, raised her five children, three girls and two boys to be very industrious and purposeful. The first wife who was often referred to as her “senior mate” didn’t have a male child. This meant her son was the rightful owner of her father’s business and other possessions. People often told her she sat on a coal of fire bearing a son when the first wife only had daughters, that is to say that she was in a very difficult position. She must therefore know a couple of strong witch doctors in case anyone was planning to harm her son through diabolical means. She also had to do everything within her power to safeguard her position as the mother of the first son as that was an enviable position to be in.

This made her very powerful, not only in her household, but in the entire village. She wanted her boys to attend school in the city. She was strong enough to do the farming in order to raise the money. Unfortunately, each of the boys impregnated the girls next door and settled in the village to raise families through subsistence farming.

‘He! He! Iyobo will be as tall as her grandmother and be as plump as her mother’ a couple of experienced mothers said during the ceremony.

‘She will be as purposeful and strong willed as her grandmother Alice,’ some of them said with a mouthful of laughter.

Chapter 2

‘How will this girl turn out to be?’ Itota often woke up in tears to ask herself.

Sometimes, very early in the morning before anyone woke up, Itota went to the back of the house to face the sky. She took off her blouse except for the wrapper tied around her waist. She knelt down with her two hands smeared with powdered native chalk, lifted to the high heavens. She cried recounting all her sad experiences and all she had been through with her three crippled boys.

‘Some people say there is God,’ she would say, ‘and He lives up there in the sky. Other people say God manifests through the smaller gods. Others say God simply lives in our hearts. I am not even sure. But wherever you are, here are my leaking breasts as evidence that I am a woman who has just gone through the agony of childbirth. Every mother wants to be the mother of a healthy child, whether the child is beautiful or not. This early morning, I see the evidence of your existence through the breeze that freely blows, the river that finely flows and the tree that sweetly sways, all announcing your greatness. I can hear the whistling birds. I can see the evidence of dew by little water droplets formed on the grasses. I can hear the innocent cry of other new-born babies. Though I cannot physically see you, I know you are somewhere. Please let this child walk like a normal child. Give her a good heart to take care of her brothers when I am old or gone to the ancestors. I don’t know if these boys will be able to find good-hearted wives to care for them the way I do now, but make this girl the one who will fill my shoes. Bless my husband Ogidi. Bless his other two wives. Prosper all of us. Let my husband continue to love me more and more no matter the jealousy of the others.’ She completed her prayer by saying “isẹ”.

This wasn’t just prayer time, it was one of the few moments when Itota had time for soul deep peace, no interruptions, no accusation. Perhaps the gods weren’t listening, but she didn’t mind, when the ritual was finished, her burden no longer weighed on her shoulders, she had the strength to carry on for that day.

When she got back inside the house, she poured some alcoholic drink into the different white-painted pots stacked up amidst other pots representing different gods. She then topped up the water in the clay pots which now stank, because of constant topping up instead of totally renewing the water. She then promised the gods that if the children walked, she would come back to sacrifice a goat to them, as if to bribe them. Everywhere went dead silent after her daily prayer, as if the gods themselves decided to be quiet for a while before responding. Yet none of the gods spoke. None of the three boys walked.

For most people in the village, it was difficult to understand the root of Itota’s strength and drive to move on in life. ‘Living with one crippled child was already a handful but having three of them was a nightmare,’ they often gossiped.

***

After her prayer routine, Itota took the long broom, made of bamboo twigs and branches of bamboo trees, bound together with very strong rope, which was often reserved to sweep the outside part of the house. She swept the entire compound, then went to the kitchen which was situated at the back of the main house. Returning to the building behind the main house, she swept off the ashes and charcoal of the day before and polished the entire kitchen building with the thick milky mud which she applied skillfully, via a piece of cloth set aside for that purpose. As Ogidi’s third and last wife, this task was hers. There would be complaints at Ogidi’s door if it wasn’t done. Itota had been doing this in her own home before she got married, so she considered it no great imposition. She loved to see everywhere looking nice and clean.

After the morning cleaning, she put water in the huge cooking pot meant for only boiling water before proceeding to prepare porridge for her baby.

The hardest part of Itota’s chores was cleaning up her sons. With no help of any type from anybody, Itota looked for ways to simplify the daily emotional and physical task.

The water in the big family pot was now boiling. Itota poured this into a big bucket, which she mixed with cool water in the big basin outside. Itota found no problem about using this water for other purposes in the house, other than drinking. It was rain water gathered for the purpose of washing dishes and taking one’s bath and of course the washing of clothes.

She then boiled some of the water in a clean large cooking pot. She allowed the water to cool, putting a piece of allum in the water to help settle the residues. She then filtered the water with a clean piece of white cloth which she kept for that purpose. This treated water was finally stored in a large round bottom clay pot which sat behind the front door and this water was used for drinking. The lid was a flat aluminium plate on which sat a clean plastic mug which served everybody but was cleaned and replaced every morning.

Itota hated to see her children get up abruptly when they were woken up. To avoid this, while the children still slept, she sang gently without thinking of the meaning of the song:

‘Omọmọ n’ ukeghede, do ọmọ n’ ukeghede, gie era renę u ke ghaviẹ, gie iyuẹ renẹ uke gha viẹ, n’ u ghẹ kha ghi me mwọn gbuẹ omwinmwẹn oo ọmọmọ ne ukeghede,’

She then sang using each of their names depending on the one whose turn it was to take a bath. If it was Moses’ turn, she sang:

‘Moses nu keghede, Moses nu keghede. Gie erha rene’

As she sang softly, she took off the clothes of her first born child as if he would break if she didn’t use that much gentility. She looked into his sleepy eyes with utmost tenderness. She ran her fingers through his hair, a smile tugged her lips. She had allowed his hair to grow a bit. He declared he would like to keep his hair afro style.

‘It seems this is now becoming a bit too hard to comb, my son’ Itota said to her son, when she was sure he had opened his eyes.

‘Those people who have big afro endure pain when combing their hair but you hate the pain,’ she teased him laughing.

‘No Mum, I am alright,’ said the six year old.

‘Moses, my son, you often say you want to be a musician when you grow up. When you start to play your music, I will dance and dance until I get really tired. No, never will I be tired of dancing. I will just keep dancing for as long as you play,’ she said to Moses who was now wide awake.

‘Yes, Mum. I will play like Victor Uwaifo and I K Dairo and Ebenezer Obey and Osadebe and,’ he struggled to continue to name the popular Nigerian artists of the time.

The morning chores for the mother of four continued as she gently pulled her first son out of bed. It was easier when he was much younger. Now, pulling him into the big basin was becoming more and more difficult. Moses had often told his mother to leave him and that he would crawl into the basin by himself. She refused. That was a sight Itota couldn’t cope with. Well, not yet. She repeated this task for all three children. However, when Moses got older, she gave in, as she could no longer lift him up. She prayed and wished that one day, she would get an ikẹkẹ uke, a wooden, specially designed tricycle for the handicapped, which was sold only in the city. She had been told the best ones were brought in from the northern part of the country where there were many cases of the attacks from the wicked god, who shrank the limbs of little children. She would have to stress to Ogidi about the need to buy these tricycles, she concluded within herself.

Itota could not go to farm like the other women because of her children, although she managed a small vegetable garden right at the back of the house. She took delight in clearing the grasses and keeping it clean when the children were playing on their own. She would have loved to go on to full time farming and make some money in order to send her children to school in the city.

The children’s clothes were often washed, arranged and finely laid in a big basket made for that purpose. She put all the trousers in one basket and the shirts in another. Some of these hand-me-down clothes were very old and tattered from being passed from one child to the other, as they had been used by many children before reaching Iyobo’s.

After washing her children with native intertwined sponge and the local soap known as Evbakhu’Edo, she hydrated their skin with Ediangbon, a special oil extracted from palm kernels. She combed their hair with the Oyiyeran wooden comb. The most painful part was when she had to take them from the courtyard to the main house. As they grew bigger, the clean clothes were all soiled so easily as they struggled, mother and children.

The handicap situation of the boys never prevented them from enjoying a good playtime or games among themselves. Their favourite was the “military game”. Moses gave the command to which Sunday and Imaduoyi responded. They all held their limp feet, heads up, chests out, lifting each limb and pushing forward on their bums at the same time. They all chanted in unison, ‘left, right, left, right, left, right,’ until they got to the destination Moses commanded. It depended on his mood. If he was very happy, he could do it up to half of the harem and on some days, they would do the length and breadth of the whole harem. They all ate and drank together there, with the juice of fruits and oil of food soiling their clothes. When they were tired, their mother picked them up one by one and gave them a good wash before tucking them up into their beds.

Chapter 3

The screeching noise of cutlass announced that Ogidi was ready for the day. Ogidi’s daily routine was very different from Itota’s.

Most of the village men left for the farm as early as 4 am, Ogidi went to farm sometimes at 6 am.

A normal day for the other sons of Ogidi who were of school age was very different from that of Itota’s children. For the children of the other two wives, they were at school between 8 am and 2 pm before joining their parents on the farm. After school, they went straight home as soon as they closed from school, to eat. After eating, they took water to top up what their parents took with them to the farm in the morning.

Food was often served at the Okhogbo, a hut built on the farm for eating, drinking and resting. Roasted yams, plantains, cocoyams, bush meat and loads of fruits, were just a few appetising meals the children looked forward to when they joined their parents at the farm. The young girls harvested the vegetables, if they were on holiday. If this was a bounteous harvest, they could sell a few baskets in the village market. They then saved the money to make beautiful clothes or to buy themselves sweeties brought to the market from the city.

The early morning rise of Itota had been a major complaint of the other wives. They thought she did all that to win the heart of their husband. They said that Itota disturbed them with her heap of problems. They often reminded her that she did the crime and should quietly do her time, without laying burdens on other people who wanted to get a good sleep. In other words, they were saying that her sin had paralysed her three sons. Their best way of conveying this was through a cliché:

‘Amarukhọ, Aiwukhọ”,’ to say that she deserved the condition she found herself, to which Itota would also reply in a song.

‘Imara maduoyi o, owẹ ni zẹ vbotỌ (2)

Oreremwẹn ni yeo, owẹ ni zẹ vbotỌ

Owẹ ni zẹ vbotỌ si eghian re o,

owẹ ni zẹ vbotỌ’

With this song, she replied that she had not committed any crime and that people were simply jealous of her. Sometimes, this malicious show down between Ogidi’s wives went on for some time until Ogidi shouted, ‘Keep quiet! I don’t want to hear a word from any of you. Sing your selfish malicious songs to your selves.’ Then everyone went dead silent.

Since Itota had started her early Morning Prayer sessions, she stopped this behaviour which she thought was very childish. She decided to ignore all negative comments addressed to her. This would allow her to concentrate more on caring for her children which was uppermost on her mind.

If a problem was too much for her to bear, she turned to her mother, who had answers ready made for her.

‘Is that why you are like a wet chicken looking for where to roost?’ Alice would say. ‘Sit down and eat. Just look at you. You are beautiful, hardworking, the favourite of your husband. Who wouldn’t be jealous of that?’ she chuckles and then emits a flattering laughter, making mockery of her daughter.

One day when Itota visited her mum, they were both seated, talking about the mockery she’d been experiencing with the other wives.

‘Itota!’ Alice suddenly stood up and shouted, as if she had not been there all along. ‘Listen to me,’ as she pulled the lower part of her own right ear, with neck slightly bent and lowered towards her daughter who was sitting down. She then repositioned herself in a form which denoted she was trying to make the most important point of her life. ‘Itota, how many times did I call you?’

Itota gazed into her mother’s face not saying a word and wondering what she was up to.

‘I want to tell you one more time,’ she lashed out. ‘You are no equal for those women. Their goal is to drive you out of your matrimonial home. Do not accept it. Fight it with all your strength. If you quit your husband, who is the man that will take care of a woman with three handicapped male children? Your patience is indispensable in this matter. Turn super deaf ears to them and live as if they do not exist.’ She then breathed out profusely, as if she had just won a fight and then continued, ‘Respect them. Kneel and greet them every morning. Help them when they need help. Feed their children if you are in a position to. But, but, do not get weighed down when they try to fight you using songs or actions. I know that one day, justice will prevail. God will hear our prayers. Those who have thrown the arrows that have maimed my three grandsons will have more and sharper arrows thrown back at them.’

‘Isẹ,’ whispered her daughter, agreeing to the prayer, while struggling to bring out baby Iyobo who had been sleeping at her mother’s back.

‘They will not only be lame,’ Alice continued, ‘they will also carry burdens which they will not be able to bear.’ As she said all this, Alice changed her position and this time stood right in front of Itota. Her change of position certainly determined either a recap of what was previously said or a new point was to be made.

The 45 year old grandmother finally took her seat, but this time with her right hand supporting her chin while her little finger made way between the two sets of incisors, as she sobbed like a baby swaying her two limbs right and left.

‘What have I done to my enemies?’ she exclaimed amidst tears. ‘Tell me, what have I done to my enemies? God, you who created the soul, you who made the clouds, the seas, the flora and fauna, you made the god of iron, the god of thunder and all other gods on the surface of the earth. You alone who can see through a man’s heart. Let it be fire for fire and lightning for lightning,’ she spoke out with a lot of energy, clenching her fist as if in a physical fierce fight with an adversary. She increased the volume of her voice as she said that last and then changed her tone, as if restating an already established fact. ‘Children are wealth to mothers.’ She then got up abruptly, made her way towards the main door, but suddenly stopped before getting to the door itself, she screamed out, ‘Anyone who says my grandchildren will not be healthy, will not have healthy children themselves. My grandchildren will get up and walk because I have hurt no one else’s child.’

She walked back to her seat and sat down, swaying her limbs.

She then got up from her seat walked around her finely kept room, hands folded towards her back as in a state of deep reflection. She then sat gently on the mud made bed which was well laid, with a gentle fire glowing at the leg side of the bed, to give some warmth to the otherwise cold room since it was rainy season. This time, she only stared at the burning fire.

To Itota’s dismay, one more time, Alice stood up, looked deep into her daughter’s eyes and said, ‘Go straight home. Remember your husband won’t look after the boys the way you would do. Do not worry. One day, justice will prevail. My prayer is now for Iyobo. I pray they do not descend on her with their evil claws, like they did to the other three. They will not succeed.’ She then brought out a cup of water, prayed in it, put some in her mouth and spat it out vigorously as if to drown the evil beings with the fountain of water she spilled out of her mouth.

Itota had heard these same words since the calamity of her first born child, her second and then the third.

‘God please, do not let this evil repeat itself in the life of my daughter,’ she repeated over and over again. On this visit to her mother’s, Itota’s attention was overtaken by Alice’s speech. While her mother still moved around in the room muttering inaudibly, Itota thought about what one of the Witch Doctors she had consulted told her was the cause of her problems. She had been told it was actually a group act to frustrate her out of her matrimonial home.

‘The two first wives of Ogidi, your husband have ganged up against you. They have tied both legs of your children to a very high tree in the spiritual world. In short, this was done even before you gave birth to them. If you had come to me before you got pregnant, I would have been able to undo the acts. Right now, it’s hard but I will keep trying to see what I can do,’ he assured the frustrated mother of three.

‘Where to?’ Itota said in surprise as she watched her daughter pick up her bag in absolute rage, ready to go.

‘Home,’ she replied sternly, looking at her mother, as if she was ready to go and fight the devil in his own back yard. She took her sleeping baby, who had been fast asleep on grandmother’s bed. She checked if she had wet her nappies made of layers of old pieces of tattered clothes, beneath a plastic pant that hold it all together. She changed the baby, then gently placed her at her back. Grandmum helped to position the baby’s head in a way to allow her sit comfortably on her mum’s back. She then placed the wrapper very skilfully, with utter gentleness to avoid manhandling the baby in any form. She then applied the Oza, a well knitted piece used to secure babies to their mother’s backs. She did this with full dexterity leaving a fanciful bow at the front, just below her breasts. She picked up her purse and then the baby’s bag which she hung loosely on her left shoulder.

‘Ok Mum, bye, I will see you next market day, only if I can get someone to help me look after the children though,’ Itota said with a stiff throat, as if forcing herself to release the words from her mouth. ‘I am happy Ogidi agreed to stay with them today. Of course, I will pay for it later when the other wives get to know that our husband has been taking care of my children,’ she said very slowly as she walked out through the door.

‘No problem. You know why I can’t come as often as I would like to. I can’t bear seeing all those women who have maimed my lovely grandsons,’ she said in a stern but defeated tone.

‘Sure,’ Itota snapped back, though not rudely.

Alice saw her daughter off through the narrow path at the side of her house. They walked together, mother and daughter without saying a word to each other until they reached the road at the end of the path.

‘Okay my child, I will now go back home. I feel bad you didn’t eat anything. I am sure I blew the whole thing beyond proportion and that was why it was too much for you to carry. Please my daughter, forgive me. Go home and concentrate on your children. God will keep fighting for us.’

‘Bye, Mum,’ Itota said, forcing a hand up, she waved to her mother as she kept going without looking back.

Chapter 4

Iyobo is now twelve years old. She had heard her mother say many times that the gods had been kind to her this time and that it had been her utmost pleasure to watch Iyobo, her only daughter grow up to become a beautiful and intelligent girl.

The day a group of people appeared at the village town hall, all wearing white robes, Iyobo recognised them as doctors sent from Lagos, the capital city. She had been told in school they would be sent to vacinate children in that area against polio.

The only primary school in the area was Agoba primary school with about 200 children, aged 6 to 12. There were eight teachers, comprising of the Headmaster, the Assistant Headmaster and a teacher for each class. There was also the school Administrator, who took care of the office work. All members of staff and pupils had earlier been told about this long awaited visit. They had been told that there’d been an outbreak of a virus called Poliomyelitis.

‘This is very dangerous and we all need to know about it, how to avoid it and how to cure it.’ They were told by the first official who came weeks before to announce how the event would go. Iyobo noticed there was only one woman in a team of twenty who later introduced herself as Mrs Adebayor. Iyobo fixed her eyes on her and noticed that she was small and very dark. She spoke English very slowly so as to allow the Bini male interpreter, introduced as Mr Ogiedo, who came all the way from Lagos with the crew to catch every word she was speaking. He was the only one not wearing a white robe. The group was sent by the Federal Ministry of Health to help villagers learn more about polio in order to prevent children from contracting it. Iyobo learnt, during the presentation, introduced by Mrs Adebayor, that poliomyelitis or polio is a highly infectious viral disease, which mainly affects young children. The virus is transmitted through contaminated food and water, and multiplies in the intestine, from where it can invade the nervous system. Many infected people have no symptoms, but do excrete the virus in their faeces which could infect other people. According to the speaker, initial symptoms of polio included fever, fatigue, headache, vomiting, stiffness in the neck, and pain in the limbs. In a small proportion of cases, Mrs Adebayor expanded, the disease causes paralysis, which is often permanent. Iyobo also learnt that polio could only be prevented by immunization and that was why they came from Lagos.

‘You must therefore feel comfortable and supportive when health officers come from Lagos to vaccinate your children. If you do not cooperate with us or you treat us as enemies, you will continue to have more cases of this disease,’ the lady doctor said as she stopped to clear her throat, picking up a paper which she held in front of her before continuing.

‘Because of the importance of this campaign, I would like to give a brief history of this disease to help you understand better and to do away with superstitious beliefs. No enemy is causing this problem. No evil people are stealing into your bedrooms and rendering the limbs of your loved ones wasted. Before now, you and I didn’t know the cause. People in other countries took time to find out because the same things happening to you now, also happened to them. I will be very brief about this,’ she finally paused, adjusting her small pair of glasses hanging loosely on her flatnose.

‘In 1789, a British physician called Dr Michael Underwood tried the first known clinical description of polio called “debility of the lower extremities”. That was actually the first time the British people recognised the disease. In 1840, in Germany, Dr Jacob von Heine conducted the first systematic investigation of polio and developed the theory that the disease may be contagious. Even though the disease was among them, they weren’t sure how it was being transmitted to someone else. It was not until 1894 that the first significant outbreak of the infantile paralysis subsequently identified as polio, was officially documented in the United States of America. You can imagine how long it all took for each level to unfold. In 1907, Swedish paediatrician Dr Ivar Wickman was able to categorise the different clinical types of polio. This certainly was a great advancement. I am sure they congratulated themselves,’ the polio expert said, looking into as many eyes as possible to ensure they were paying attention to her before continuing.

‘They were able to establish that there were different types of polio. This certainly would make research easier.’

Iyobo noticed that Mrs Adebayor looked up at her audience, heaving a sigh of accomplishment as if she was there when all these discoveries took place. Iyobo looked up to see reactions of the audience made up of men, women and children. The children who attended were ages 10 – 12 from primaries 5 and 6 as directed by the school headteacher. Even though they couldn’t quite grasp the meaning of all that was said so far, many of them started to understand that the disease which maimed three boys in one family began very long time ago and the reason why this happened in this magnitude was due to a lack of awareness.

Iyobo was pleased that all the teachers and pupils listened carefully to what was being said, although she realized that she was the only one who came with a pen and a note book to jot down the important points.

***

Iyobo would have been bored had this discussion not affected her personally because of her three brothers, especially when Mrs Adebayor started talking about how in 1908, Austrian physicians Karl Landsteiner and Erwin Popper hypothesised that polio might have been caused by a virus. At this point, to Iyobo’s greatest dismay, Ogidi was snoring, a situation which made the speaker stop talking, until people subtly woke him up. The 12 year old wished no one knew he was her father.

‘In 1916, a polio epidemic in New York, USA, heightened concern on both sides of the Atlantic and accelerated research into how the disease was spreading.’

This time, Iyobo wished Mrs Adebayor was done as half of the male folks were either sleeping or simply gazing emptily at the interpreter.

‘By 1948, Thomas Weller and Frederick Robbins were successful in growing poliovirus in live cells. You may find it hard to understand what this means, but it simply says that the disease was tested on something that was alive so as to find out what danger it might pose to it.’

Iyobo smiled at this and wrote something down.

‘Dr Jones Salk developed the first vaccine against polio in 1955. This was an injectable and inactivated polio vaccine. What a breakthrough!’ The female speaker announced with great enthusiasm.

‘These people refused to give up. The more they searched, the more they discovered. I am sure we have boys and girls sitting in this crowd today who will be like these scientists. You will be the ones to bring light and true knowledge to our towns and villages.’

At this point, even though Iyobo was still taking notes, she wished more than ever before, that the visit of the polio officials would be over soon, especially after the embarrassment she had to suffer when Ogidi was snoring loudly.

‘Dear ladies and gentlemen, thank you very much for listening to me. The fact is, that I would like to come to a logical conclusion so that you can fully grasp all we have come to deliver to you. I know that it is most important to deliver to you the cure of the disease, but I know that if you heard and understood how the cure of polio came to be, you would be more involved in dispensing the vaccines. Please bear with me a little longer.’

Iyobo looked round and saw three men yawning. She turned to look at Ogidi. His head was bowed down and so she couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or not.

‘I know it’s past time for some of you to be in your homes relaxing, but please, see this as a sacrifice you are making for life long knowledge, just like those scientists worked to make the world a better place.’

Iyobo sighed and then looked towards Ogidi’s direction.

‘Dr Albert Sabin then developed a “live” oral vaccine against polio, which rapidly became the vaccine of choice for most national immunization programmes across the world. In 1974, The World Health Assembly passed a resolution to create the Expanded Programme on Immunization to bring vaccines to the world’s children and between 1970 and 1980, Lameness surveys demonstrated that polio was widespread in many developing countries, leading to the introduction of routine immunization into almost all national immunization programmes. This was how it was spotted, that there was polio in Nigeria and in many other developing countries. This leads us to conclude that this disease has been all over the world. The first step is to give out vaccines to young people as scientists continue to improve on their research on the polio virus. Eventually, the disease will be cleared off our continent, just like the success story we are beginning to hear about from Europe and America.’

To Iyobo’s delight, Mrs Adebayor finally put her scripts down and put her glasses back into an old wooden case which she placed carefully in her handbag that was on the floor at the side of the chair where she stood. Iyobo watched her as she sat down, adjusting herself on the seat.

Iyobo clapped first and saw primary six teacher, Mr Unugboro clapping too. Then everybody clapped.

Iyobo suddenly noticed a woman wiping tears from her eyes with the side of her wrapper at the far end of the hall; she realized it was Itota, her mother. She had looked several times before in that direction but saw her concentrating on the interpreter. Iyobo fixed her eyes on her mother, hoping she would look in her direction but Itota didn’t.

Then Iyoba saw another official, Mr Kokobi, who got up to speak about the symptoms of the disease, giving examples of some people in his own area where children had the disease and their thinking that the gods of the land were against them. ‘Some even thought it to be the evil work of witches and wizards. You must allow your children take the vaccines which the government has invested millions of naira in.’

Iyobo heard him stress this importance.

A specialist doctor of the poliomyelitis then took to the floor.

‘I am Dr Coker, and I work with the Federal Ministry of Health in Lagos. In recent years, a lot has been discovered about the polio virus and we are all doing the best we possibly can to get rid of it. Like many other infectious diseases, polio tends to affect some of the most vulnerable members of the population. These are the very young, pregnant women and people with immune systems that are substantially weakened by other medical conditions. Anyone who has not been immunised against polio is especially susceptible to contracting the infection. That is why it is very important to be immunised. In areas with poor sanitation, the virus easily spreads through the fecal-oral route, via contaminated water or food. That is why it is advisable to always wash your hands with soap after defecating,’ he said, puffing out a light laughter from the corner of his mouth. The interpreter smiled while relating this in Bini language.

‘There are two vaccines available to fight polio – inactivated poliovirus, the IPV, and oral polio vaccine, OPV. This is a success story everyone must take on board. All hands must be on deck to ensure complete eradication of this disease from Nigeria. We are a big population and we can’t afford to play with this important information. Nobody is causing it. You must stop pointing accusing fingers at each other. If there are people who already have it, you must support them. It is a very challenging situation to be in,’ Dr Coker finally concluded.

Iyobo noticed her mother adjust herself several times and wondered what she might have been thinking about, after hearing all these facts about polio.

After the explanation from the specialists, Iyobo understood that the plight of her mother being castigated as a witch was the result of pure ignorance. She kept glancing at her mother trying to read her body language. When they had a chance for questions, Iyobo asked the doctor what she needed to do to become a doctor, in order to join the team fighting against the dreary disease.

Dr Coker simply smiled and kept smiling as he admired the courage and sincerity this 12 year old put into that question.

Chapter 5

Moses was now 18 and almost a full grown man. His father had suggested Moses learn how to mend shoes, and do so in front of the house since going to work the farm was impossibile because of his disability. Ogidi’s inspiration for this was from Chike, an Ibo man from Umuofia, in the eastern part of the country, who had settled in the village almost two decades ago. Chike had a special machine for fixing the shoes right. People with broken shoes came to him and Chike fixed them with ease. His talent had impressed Ogidi and he wanted one of his sons to learn the trade.

Ogidi was disappointed when he learnt that Moses didn’t want to become a shoe repairer, his dream was to become a musician like Victor Uwaifo, one of the most famous musicians of their time. Ogidi had records of Victor Uwaifo, who was gifted at playing several instruments, and had seen Moses listen to him over and over again and wish he could just see the man one day.

Ogidi realized that his second child, Sunday, loved to sit in his wooden wheel chair in front of their house, teasing every passer-by, laughing out loud; this he did everyday, except market days, when he wheeled his wooden tricycle to the market place, where he would sit beneath the big iroko tree and beg for alms. When the day was done, he simply pushed himself to the harem. He came out of his chair and went straight into the room he shared with his brothers. Itota had been worried about Sunday, wondering what he could do to avoid begging all his life. Ogidi had been told by family and friends that of the three boys, Imaduoyi, who was now 14, looked most like him in terms of facial features. Ogidi knew that Imaduoyi’s dream had been to become a footballer. Ogidi recalled that he had started playing ball at the age of 2 with the neighbours’ children and stopped when he got infected by polio at the age of 4. Ogidi also noticed that, like Sunday, Imaduoyi often sat in front of the house wearing sport T-shirts with “Eguavoen” or “Oduah” printed on it. These were bought by his mother from the second hand piled clothes brought to the village market from Benin. These names were football heroes of Bini origin. They were Imaduoyi’s people, his stars. He heard about them from city dwellers who visited the village every now and then. Some had even gone to the stadium to watch them play. This was one of Imaduoyi’s dreams; to watch professional players play live.

Ogidi however, noticed that Itota’s attention was more on Iyobo, as the mother saw the daughter as very intelligent, with potential for achievement at school. Ogidi himself, didn’t see it that way, afterall, Iyobo was just a girl. ‘A girl could be described as beautiful, hardworking and good material for marriage,’ Ogidi often told his wife, ‘but no more.’ There were, therefore, no plans made for Iyobo’s schooling in Ogidi’s mind, as he clearly had intentions to marry her off.