S.I.C.K.L.Y

Mama is trying to force the bottle of agbo down my throat but I won't take any more of it. The smell of the fish in the basket near the fire is making me want to vomit. I am tired of being sick in this tiny room without Papa. The last time I asked Mama about him, she told me to go to sleep and burst into tears.The neighbours say that Papa left with the fair lady that made him send me on numerous errands whenever she came to our house.

My classmates do not want to play with me; they say I am a thin sickler with broomstick legs and it worsened when Papa left. I talked to Aunty Rose, my class teacher about it and she told me to ignore them and work hard towards my dream of becoming an engineer. Now I am sick and Mama cannot pay my school fees with the little money Mama makes from selling fish. I want to see Papa and tell him to take me to the hospital. These days I see shadows and dark figures; my body shakes like that of the neighbour's fowl when those mischievous boys pour water on it. The last time I told Mama about it, she shook her head and brought a man who chanted incantations and made some marks on my stomach with a razor blade. The nurse that sells expensive drugs told Mama that I had severe malaria but Mama cannot afford the drugs she sells and a hospital card. I do not want to worry Mama anymore, she is getting thinner daily and the rent is due tomorrow. I am still seeing the shadows and I am trying now to accept the agbo but my hands do not feel anything. Mama is crying and calling out for help. The old woman is plugging my ears and nose with cotton wool.Papa came back two weeks later after the fair lady left him to marry someone else and exactly a month after I died.

By
Galadima Gambiya
300l MBBS,
UNIBEN.