When Mercy Runs Dry

Chapter 2: The Silence After

The compound was silent.

Not normal silence of afternoon in Amaka Village.

The silence of house where laughter died.

Where Chief Williams Uche laugh used to shake mango tree, now only wind and cough.

I knelt before my father wheelchair, under mango tree where he used to sit with elders.

My father who carried me on his shoulder to Amaka Community School every day. My father who paid my WAEC fees with his bus money, 15,000, even when bus spoil.

He could not say my name.

Mouth twisted to one side. Drool on chin. Good left hand shaking.

Chidi, small houseboy, quickly cleaned drool with small towel, gently.

"Papa don dey like this for 3 weeks now, aunty," Chidi whispered, voice small, eyes down.

I looked at this boy. Barefooted, thin, oversized shirt, my father old slippers too big for his feet. But his eyes not afraid of my father sickness.

"Who are you, Chidi? Who brought you here to Amaka?"

He looked down, afraid.

"Chief Okafor brought me, aunty. He said I go stay with Papa since Mama no fit carry am alone. He said he will pay my mama 15,000 every month from Umueze."

Chief Okafor again. Everything was Chief Okafor in Amaka.

I entered inside small bungalow. Mama Nkechi on floor, wrapper tied anyhow, eyes red, rosary in hand.

She saw me and cried louder, rolling.

"Adaeze! You don come! See what your father turn to! See us! No gate, no money, no drug!"

We hugged. She shaking, thin.

"Mama, since when has Papa been like this? Why you no tell me it is this bad? You told me small stroke?"

"We no get money! We no get money for FMC again! Last time we went to Owerri, doctor said stroke has entered brain well well. He gave drug list — 47,000 naira. Where I wan see 47,000? Your father two buses don spoil since he sick. No income! Chief Okafor said he will help, but he collected papers!"

Heart broke.

In Abuja, my husband Emeka spent 50,000 on weekend beer with friends, suya. And here, mother cannot buy 47,000 drug to save father who paid 14 children school fees.

I went to father small room, wooden box where he kept land papers.

I opened box. Empty. Only wrapper inside.

"Mama! Where are Papa land documents? The one for 3 plots behind community school in Amaka, worth 12,000,000?"

Mama wiped tears with wrapper.

"Chief Okafor collected them. He said he will keep them safe because people wan steal them since your father sick. He came with two boys last month, not police, just his boys. I was afraid, Adaeze. He said if we disturb, he will carry your father to his village and leave us."

I stood up. Hand shaking. So this was plan.

Father gets stroke. They take buses, say spoil. They take land papers, say keep safe. They bring houseboy to watch him die slowly. Then they sell everything, 12,000,000.

"Where is Chief Okafor now? That man with Hilux that removed gate for 80,000?"

Mama held my hand tight.

"Adaeze, no fight am oh! Chief na Chief in Amaka. He has boys, 10 boys. He has Area Command connection. He said if we disturb him, he will carry your father to his village and leave us. Please, Adaeze, we have no gate now, we are open."

I looked outside. Chidi was feeding my father pap, small small, patiently, like nurse, with spoon.

This boy was not bad boy. He was caring for my father more than Chief ever did, more than Emeka.

I went outside, mango tree shade.

"Chidi, come."

He came, head down, barefoot.

"How old are you, Chidi?"

"15 years, aunty."

"Where is your family?"

"My papa don die, aunty, 2 years ago. My mama dey Umueze village. She no get money, she sells akara. Chief Okafor said if I work for Chief Williams house in Amaka, he go pay my mama 15,000 every month. But since 2 months, he never pay my mama. My mama dey call."

15 years old. No shoe. No pay for 2 months. But still cleaning my father mouth, feeding pap.

I gave him my gala from my bag, small gala I bought at Owerri park, 500. He ate it like he had not eaten for days, fast.

I turned to my father in wheelchair, blue paint faded.

"Papa, can you hear me? Can you hear Adaeze?"

My father blinked. Tears rolled from good eye. He tried to lift good left hand. He touched my face, rough hand, shaking.

He tried to say something, mouth twisted.

"A... da..."

Adaeze. He remembered me. After 2 years silence, he remembered daughter who left to Abuja.

I started crying. Could not hold. Loud in compound with no blue gate.

For 4 years I ran away from Amaka because I thought village people were witch. Because my husband said village is backward, wretched.

But my father was dying here alone, in silent compound, no gate, no drug 47,000.

And 15-year-old stranger was only one who cared.

At that moment, my phone rang. Loud. Emeka. Husband in Abuja.

I picked, hand shaking.

"Where are you, Adaeze? You packed bag last night and left? You did not tell me? You left my house without permission?"

"I am in Amaka Village. My father is... he has stroke, severe..."

He cut me, shouting, market noise behind him.

"I told you! If you go to that wretched village, don't come back to my house! Don't come back! I have locked the shop! Your hair business, 200,000 goods, I have locked it! Come back now or forget shop!"

He hung up. Phone beep.

Mama looked at me, eyes wide.

"Na Emeka? What he say?"

I cleaned tears with wrapper.

"Mama, from today, I am not going back to Abuja. I will stay here in Amaka. We will save Papa. We will get our land back. We will buy new blue gate."

Mama shook head, afraid.

"How, Adaeze? You are woman. You have no husband money now, shop locked. You have no brother. Who will fight Chief Okafor for us? He has Hilux, he has boys, he has 12,000,000 buyer coming tomorrow."

I looked at Chidi. He was washing my father feet with warm water, gentle.

And I said, voice small but strong...

"We have Chidi."

Chidi raised head, surprised, water in bowl.

"Me, aunty? I be small boy, 15 years, no shoe."

"Yes. You know everything that happened since Papa got sick. You know about gate 80,000, about land 12,000,000, about papers. You will tell me truth."

Chidi was afraid, looking at road where Chief Hilux passed.

"Aunty, if Chief Okafor know say I talk, he go beat me. He go pursue my mama from Umueze. He go say I be thief."

I held his thin shoulder, bone.

"Chidi, did Chief really sell Papa land for 12,000,000? Tell me truth. Did he collect 2,000,000 deposit?"

He kept quiet for long time, 10 seconds, looking at Papa wheelchair.

Then he nodded small, eyes down.

"Yes, aunty. Yesterday, I heard him on phone under mango tree. He said 12,000,000 total, buyer from Owerri will bring remaining 10,000,000 tomorrow Monday. He said they will clear the land tomorrow morning with tractor, 8am. He said they will remove remaining blocks."

Tomorrow morning! Monday 8am! My father 3 plots! Our only hope to pay 47,000 drug and hospital bill! And they will clear it tomorrow with tractor!

Legs shook.

Mama started crying again, loud, inside silent compound.

"Adaeze, what we go do? Tomorrow na Monday! Tractor go clear land! Papers don go! Gate don go 80,000!"

I looked at father wheelchair, at Chidi bare feet, at phone — husband blocked me, shop locked.

I had no money, 20,000 left. No husband. No police connection. No brother.

But I had tonight. One night to stop 12,000,000 stealing in Amaka.

I told Chidi, "Chidi, lock the gate tonight. No one enters this compound."

And Chidi said something that made my blood cold, eyes down.

"Aunty, gate no dey lock again. Chief Okafor removed the blue gate last week. He said he go sell iron gate too, 80,000, to iron condemn. Now compound open, goats dey enter."

He removed our gate. To sell 80,000. This man has sold our dignity, our security.

I stood up. Father tried to hold my hand, good hand shaking.

His eyes saying — Adaeze, leave it. Let them take 12,000,000. I am already gone, I am 67.

But I, Adaeze Williams, who failed in Abuja marriage, who failed in hair business, who left Amaka 4 years ago...

I will not fail my father tonight.

Tomorrow morning Monday 8am, Chief Okafor is coming with tractor to clear 3 plots worth 12,000,000.

I will be waiting for him at land.

With what? I don't know yet. With Chidi? With Mama? With no money?

But I will be waiting.

My name is Adaeze Williams, daughter of most cheerful man in Amaka. And tomorrow, I fight for first time.