Entry 37 by Oreoluwa Aboluwarin

The pain in my stomach will just not go away. The bulge increases daily now. Sometimes I feel a push, a kick or slight shove from the inside. My unborn child is a fighter. He sure will punish the world for condemning me to madness?

Six months have elapsed now since I was confirmed pregnant. I sense daily the day is approaching for my delivery. Yester night I saw Rosco and a man with flowing white garments in Rosco’s danfo. Rosco referred to him repeatedly as Chief Obafemi. I had seen this man a long while ago. He was the only other man who had buried his ‘member’ inside me. The events of that day are fuzzy now, it seems like ages ago. All I know is from the moment the man spilled his seed in me, Rosco increased my ‘allowance’ to 200 naira. I still get that money every other day just in case you’re wondering. I’ve discovered that even with the growing foetus in my womb, I still can’t go a day without letting Rosco slip in between my thighs. I think I might die if he withdraws ‘my daily bread’

This man’s visit worries me more than my growing problem. I overheard their discussion yester night. I think he believes he’s the father of my unborn child. He plans to take my child away when I put to bed. I will definitely not let go without a fight. If he tries it, he will regret the day he was born. Let me suppress my derisive laughter, lest the growing furor around the madwoman be shifted upon me.

Maybe I need to worry about her afterall. Maybe I need to leave my ‘house’ and feed my eyes now that everyone is drifting towards her like the demon-possessed swine that tripped over the edge at the command of Jesus.

She’s stark naked now. Her full breasts more delicious than ever, rotund and nicely formed. I need to stop this now, else I’d touch myself tonight again. I think the whole world is mad! Nobody makes an attempt to cover her, all I see are kegs of kerosene, numerous match boxes and tyres making their way towards the centre.

I need not wonder why she’s going to be lynched and burnt. She’s sane enough to confess the many evils her witchy hands have perpetrated. The words of her mouth will lead to her demise.

This incidence reminds me of a kid barely fifteen years old that was burnt before my very eyes close to two months ago for stealing one thousand five hundred and ten naira from a woman’s purse. I was sick for days after that occurrence so I dare not watch this.

Like I said, can’t worry about her too much. I have my own growing problems to deal with. I need to take care of my own worries. And besides, this is just another random day in my eventful life.

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21 responses to “Entry 37 by Oreoluwa Aboluwarin

  1. Awesome write-up, not very abstract, one can feel nd see the happenings therein almost immediately.

  2. Gripping! Compact and well crafted…gets the mind struggling to fill the details and trying to second guess what will invariably be a sad ending – an ending that would have brought about by the mixture of lust, poverty, power asymmetries, religious exploitation, superstitition, violence and Harmful traditional practices! A well told tale!

  3. Gripping! Compact and well crafted…gets the mind struggling to fill the details and trying to second guess what will invariably be a sad ending – an ending that would have been brought about by the mixture of lust, poverty, power asymmetries, religious exploitation, superstitition, violence and harmful traditional practices! A well told tale!

  4. Yet another master piece from Oreoluwa. An ingenius writer with excellent use of words. It gives a pictoral depiction of the moral decadence birthed from Poverty, the reward of wickedness, all well crafted and served in the article… Thumbs up.

  5. Her voice myt be fictional bhu er story is a reality of many black women. Her child is her hope its all she lives for.

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