National Daily

I Stand Rejected (3)

By AHAOMA KANU

“SHE is no longer a child; they have forced her to become a woman when her breasts have not even grown. You cannot visit her again because she now knows things a child should not know,” my mother explained as her reason for the ban.

“She is still my friend, I promised her,” I objected ready to cry her into changing her mind.
“Aisha, she is no longer a child, she has been forced into womanhood,” she stated. I did not understand, “Tomorrow, we will go back to school and get you registered.”

As I took the test and passed, Amina was betrothed to a man that my father said was older than his own father. I was not to see her again for five years and she was never the same.

I tried to keep my vow of friendship and asked the few friendly boys in my class about Amina.
“She is with her husband at Kafanchan,” I was told; it was a distant town from Gusau. I kept praying to Allah to bring us together one day and it happened in Zaria when I was on holidays in one of my aunts' house. I ran into a woman who recognised me and told me where Aisha was.

“She is now at the place for cursed women,” the woman informed me; it was obvious that the woman liked gossiping going by the way she was voluntarily feeding me with information.
I decided to find out where the centre was and my Aunt's house help gave me directions. I went to the centre for the 'cursed' women and arrived with a queer fear of what to expect. The centre was called St Theresa Centre for VVF; it was sited away from Zaria town and had no fence around it. I saw three long houses and some women sitting under a Guava tree discussing in Hausa. From the way they looked at me, I knew instantly they were not used to having many visitors.

“I am looking for Amina Danladi,” I announced to them after greeting them.
“Amina Teacher?” One of them asked me, I did not know. The one that asked the question took me into what looked like the reception, I could smell an acrid odour of sour urine. Maybe that was the reason they chose to be outside.

“Aisha na our teacher here,” the lady said as she took me through the hall as she brought out a nose mask from her blouse pocket and put it on. As we moved deeper into the dormitory, the stench increased and then I saw them; they were old, young and very young lying down on raffia mats that were soaked with urine and smelt of faeces. The odour was so much that I clasped my hand over my nose and held my breath.
“What the hell is happening here?” I asked myself and briefly acknowledged within me that truly, with that stench, the place was meant for cursed women.

The faces of the women bore the same expression of rejection; they were lost, confused and filled with grief, sorrow and pain. They were there in all sizes and ages; elderly women who had accepted their fate of seclusion; young girls that knew fate no longer had a future and girls that were yet to understand what lay in stock for them. They used to be married and had husbands and families but they had been abandoned and left to the humanitarian hands of the few workers who wore nose masks and hand gloves when dealing with them.

“Who do we have here?” The muffled voice of a white lady with a European accent asked.
I was between running away from the bad smell and understanding what sin the women scattered all over the place in their filth had committed to be passing through what they were facing.
“She come look for teacher,” my guide replied with a countenance that showed she didn't want to be kept inside for a long time.

“She is with her students in the Third Hall,” the white lady directed. My system was on fire, I wanted to vomit.
We passed another hall filled with women the same condition before stepping into another big hall, I regretted coming to see Amina; one of my teachers once said that old friends are better kept in the past only to be remembered. I made up my mind to fulfil my vow and leave Amina forever in the past.
But when I saw her, I knew I should not have had that thought.

Amina was sitting on the floor with three other younger girls, she was reading from a book while the girls listened attentively. Her hair was badly woven and her blouse was loose on her, barely covering her emaciated body. She looked older and very unkempt.

“Teacher you have a visitor,” my guide announced and took the nearest exit immediately on delivering me to her.
When Amina looked up and our eyes met, I saw the glow in her eyes was gone. There was no sign of warmth or expectations that had filled her once beautiful face. She was the picture of a failed dream waiting for the end to come.

“Aisha!” She called out with a quick flicker of surprise registering on her face and vanishing as it came, “You came,” she said and looked away in shame.
She equally smelt of that same unpleasant pungency and from the way she sat down with her supposed students, she had left herself to fate; whatever her predicament was did not leave her with any choice. The stench coming from them was so heavy that I held my breath.

“Let's go outside, it is better there,” she said, understanding my plight.
“We will continue later,” she informed that three girls who kept their faces glued to me; it was evident they were not used to being visited.

We walked towards a Mango tree; Amina led the way and walked behind. The sudden Harmattan breeze that hit me was a relief, I breathed in to fill my lungs and get rid of the stench I had been subjected to the past minutes.
Amina sat down on a bench that was kept under the tree and looked away from me; I knew she was avoiding my face. I had so many questions.

“Amina, what is wrong?” I asked really confused, tears were already filling my eyes. When she turned to face me, tears were running down her cheeks. I felt guilty of not being a true friend; I had stayed away for so long that Amina had become a stranger, a dishevelled woman I could barely recognize.
She slowly shook her head before looking up at me; I saw the pain, the sorrow and the regret. She was trapped without hope.

“Everybody has rejected me,” she stated with her face filled with tears, “they tell me I will be like this forever. Aisha, I cannot do anything again in my life,” She said amidst sobs. I went close to her and hugged her; we both cried.