I saw my flow of blood only a few nights ago so stop thinking of the worst. Or is it more than a few nights ago? My thoughts rivet to the woman who had now removed her bra. Now that’s madness. I wish Rosco would understand that I was normal.
The nausea comes to me without warning. I run to the road to throw it all up. Passersby scamper far away, irritated. From the pit of my stomach, vomit rushes to my mouth and I throw it up once more. I feel relieved after this second rage from my stomach and mock irritated passersby. I am still worried though. I move back to my house carefully checking that no one has touched my property.
‘You need a doctor’ one of Rosco’s men say, puffing a cigarette in my face.
I don’t need a doctor. They are murderers. Yes, it is because of them uncle died. Stupid no good doctor!
I am now hungry but I have no money. I have done this before. I walk across the road, looking my vomit in the face, a red colored paste with tiny yellow snakes on it. I overlook it and move as if strolling casually past the sellers. I am going to steal some oranges and run back to my house. Wasn’t it said that if Mohammed didn’t go to the mountain the mountain would come to him—or something like that. I have just sighted a group of freshly sliced oranges when the nausea wells up in me. I wait for the SiSI Eko who has been closing her nose behind me to pass by me and quickly did it in front of the orange seller’s kiosk.
‘Were ni e’ the orange seller screams with disgust written all over her face.
‘Fi le’ another seller says, the same look of disgust in her heart shaped face. ‘She has bitten someone before. Better let her go.’
I ignore them though deeply want to fix my long nails into their flesh, and take three oranges and run.
‘Ole, ole’ I hear her scream and before I can get anywhere a gang of men—young boys I have never seen surround me. My only weapon is my teeth and my fingers but the boys are too much. The oranges slip from my hand as I silently plead that they let me go.
Some police men come out of their car and drag me into the car, alongside the mad woman who didn’t put a fight.
‘Be careful with her, she’s very mad’
‘Leave me’ I scream trying to put up a fight but they are too strong.
‘Fashola’s instructions to take them away’
Vomit forms in my stomach and I throw up on one of them and start to make a run for it. They catch me and when I wake up, I see myself in a hospital bed.
I hear a voice confirming my madness and predicament ‘she’s a mad and far along.’s