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By Madeline Ileleji
I still remember it, that void night when I conceived my daughter. I guess motherhood after all is an abyss of joy and pain. I remember the weather that had this cold tremor beating through the walls of our very old bungalow house. The air inside hazy and cold, and I so full of self-pity stood beside the window like a deranged figure, my dark frizzy eyes burning through the dimness of the mysterious black sky. Something about stars was always comforting to me, their great numbers on some nights and their scarce appearances on other nights. I always thought they made quite a fool of me blinding me to their eternal dreamer’s tale. I felt their radiance was far better than my reality. I often thought of myself as beautiful though, I had the height for it and my eyes lit like lightning that once bewitched my husband. But as a married woman, I guess it meant nothing when you’ve put in eight years and you’ve got nothing to show for it. I suppose that was the misery I saw in my husband’s eyes every night. To ease the pain, I stood by the window and watched the stars burn in the night sky without a fever like they were warming up for a parade. The stars after all were an even deception that I marred up to protect the insanity that I would be accused of. Why would anyone understand why a sensible woman like me with a dual degree in law and history and a master’s degree in African Studies be intoxicated by the sound of the night drum wherever it came from. Then it would be confirmed that I was a witch after all, my mother-in-law had accused me of consuming my children in my womb before they ever really formed into beings. I can’t blame her after all; I suppose it’s a kind of norm that I was supposed to give her first son a child. To me the woman was a despicable thing but she made the man I love and she made six others of his kind so in a way I envy her. The night drums slowly turned into a ritual for me; night after night I listened to the sound of it slowly drowning all of my sorrow into that ritual of madness. Whoever beat
the drums so hard at that time of the night, kept me sober, I felt one with the music of it, as though we were bonded. As a girl when they cut off a part of me to protect my innocence they said, it was the sound of the drums that kept me still while I bled in a water melon fashion on a wooden table at the back of our compound in old Bakau. So night after night since then, I listened to the wildness of that unbroken madness reminding myself that I was whole after all. Years of insecurity and broken pieces turning into adult depression for me. I was another broken child in an adult body. I never felt the same, what a shameful way to live after all. A part of me had been taken out from my virtue and the flesh around it sewed together. Since then it was the drums for me that somewhat brought healing. They sounded like an incantation almost tranquilizing all my being. I kept it still in my body but in my mind I danced to the music it made night after night ridding myself of all sobriety. I remember that particular night for the gift that came out of it. I remember it because I’ve never considered myself superstitious though I always knew I was into folklore and elements of it. That particular night, a lava sky appeared, it brightened like wildfire and the moon was in its full wits, the boldness of its figure igniting all my senses. Its radiance was like fiery gold burning with all the heavenly bodies. I had to wear a dress for a sky like that. I had to meet it woman to woman in a mood that suited both our elegance. So I wore a dress that made me a sinner and walked down the stairs of my living room like a spinster in action. My husband Kelepha walked in right through the doors of our living room, his tired facing searching for me in all that space before they finally landed on me in a slow motion display. I felt his eyes on me, slowly scrutinising my being with my back faced against him. Then I heard him slowly approaching me, I guess it was the dress after all. My short wine Ankara dress with the falling sleeves had made quite a show for him. In that moment I felt stupid. I had almost forgotten a dress like that would never go unnoticed by him. I didn’t wear it to drag him to bed with me even though we hadn’t been intimate for a year now. Honestly speaking marriage by that time felt like torture. But I saw the moon in its glory and I thought a nice bathe would do and a fancy dress with a glass of wine. Before I snapped out of my self-explanation, Kelepha was standing right in front of me, his eyes half lit with emotions that once
inspired our passion. I hadn’t really thought much of him lately, we did quite well avoiding each other and spending as little time as possible together. Without children, our marriage after all was just that thing couple’s hold together. I wasn’t after all, the wife he needed his mother concluded. Eight years of it and a child I didn’t give him. My mother had advised I give it time; she kind of blamed it on me. Her first advice when I got married was, “get a child Ajankey in that way you will hook your husband for eternity.” Well, I was a radical; I always had a different perspective, I like to have my own way and children needed to be prepared for. So I waited with the pregnancy thing, went for my masters then came back home ready to make a baby. I guess my friend Anne Therese was right ‘God was busy when I was ready to have a baby.’ He has been busy for six years attending to the newlyweds. But that night in the chaos of my failing marriage, the power of the dress I wore ignited a spark that both Kelepha and I couldn’t ignore. He drew nearer to me, I didn’t utter a word, after all I was a big mouth and ruining moments was my specialty. But I kept it cool; I knew the look in his eyes, the devil in them was the genius he made out of several experiments with a couple of other women. So I closed my mouth a little more to allow him get a good look for a moment or so. He was the devil when he wanted to be, the man knew how to make a girl feel special just by staring her down. And oh he didn’t disappoint! His eyes lit like he’d just seen fairy dust beside a heap of gold, the price of two for one. I paused, the pretty little thing i was, startled by his delightful expression yet still entertaining it all the more. I was mesmerized by his gaze. I could picture myself in his mind, what a woman i had become standing there like a Greek goddess, motionless and divine all the same. Then like a man in love, he stroked my hair like he was trying to find my soul in there. The two of us lusting over each other like teenagers. I didn’t know how much I wanted him until he stroked my neck with his palm and just like that, everything else fell into place. Our looks were intertwined and nothing else made more sense than the two of us standing beside an open window, the drums to the wind and the stars basking outside
There with the lights on, pressed against a wall, the wind howling outside and my Afro flying out of proportion, my husband made love to me so much so that I, who was cut as a child, almost came close to having an orgasm. It was as good as it ever gets, so i knew love like that would not go unrewarded. That’s the thing teenagers don’t understand, great sex sometimes means you’ve got a token of the Creator in there. Like a signed memoir, a special edition copy with features of both parties in it. I understood that much for some reason. Kelepha and i were fire that night and I knew that I had birthed a part of him that would stay. A part of him, that i would call mine. So when he was done, brushing himself off me like a stranger, I walked right back to the window and while the drumming went on, I danced naked to the stars with a cigarette in my hand till I heard the sound of the drum fading and my name on my husband’s lips resonated in my ears “Ajankay, Ajankay.” I knew at that moment, we had made something out of all that mess and chaos. And true the little human came, with eyes as wild as the night her father and i made her. She was the spitting image of my madness and I adored her. So Tenneng we called her Tenneng Tobaski Touray after her father’s wishes. This child in all her wits was born of pure love but she also inherited the blind side of that love, all the madness and crazy that came with it. So I understood she was a child even though the world considered her wild, she was a child and a girl who loved to play soccer. After all she was my child and I didn’t conform to all the rules. But her father’s side of the family considered it a little off that my baby girl preferred to play soccer with the boys than sit under the tree to sing songs. It was even more surprising when my husband a die heart Manchester United fan began to make unpopular remarks about it. He who delighted in her remarkable passion and understanding of the game now found it quite irritating that she played soccer. That she liked something her family deemed unfit to be liked by a girl. Their level of ignorance mortified me! As a mother, I didn’t put so much thought of their meddling into my family affairs. She was my child and if she loved playing soccer that was okay with me. It didn’t make her less of a girl, as far as I was concerned she was a sportswoman and that was tremendously beautiful. I was never a sportswoman, my father never allowed it. I was lucky to have gone to school because my mother’s sister took me in at eight and all
her children went to school. So she ensured that i went to school too, which was a privilege to me. I knew most girls whose fathers didn’t allow them go to school. They always felt it was a waste of money. A woman’s’ place after all was in the kitchen not in a classroom meant for Western education. My daughter Tenneng had real talent, she could dribble quite well for a nine year old and some evenings she would juggle the ball while I watched. And when she got twenty five done rightly, she would laugh and jump, raising her hands in the air, then she would shake her tiny little waist. The best part of my evenings with her was when she’d look at me and say “isn’t that quite something for a girl.” It always almost brings me to tears. She was passionate and that was everything. At her age I didn’t know what I liked the most so watching my daughter be passionate about football I felt satisfied and proud of myself because I knew I was doing something right. Summer in Bakau was always something else. One would think the global pandemic would keep the people indoors but even that didn’t humble their spirits. The children were everywhere running, racing and playing football. The girls played twenty five in a box- a game they played throwing rounders ball around in a sizeable box drawn in the street. The older teenage boys sat at the junction in sets brewing attaya- the local tea and experimenting with cigarette and weed. Summer was also the time most of the children were circumcised. Everywhere you looked there was a masquerade named “Kankurang” chasing after the children with a cutlass or two at hand. I hated the sight of them, because it reminded me of the time I was also circumcised. Well Bakau was quite the place, it was normal for the boys to be circumcised so no one hid it. The older boys who had already undergone circumcision could visit the new initiates in their boy’s quarters where they were harbored during the period of healing to sing and cheer them up. The funny thing was, the girls were also circumcised but no one spoke of it openly. As I remember it, it was done at first light at the back of the house where the clitoris of a little girl was cut then sewed together. The culture said it was to protect her so she won’t turn out loose. When I went through it, I knew they had taken a great part of me without my permission. Mostly I felt they took out a part of God in me because mythird grade teacher at my Catholic school taught me that I was made in the image of God so therefore, I was a whole being. Well I never spoke of her again; my father ensured I got a scar for it for speaking such to him. “I sounded like a Christian,” he said and that too was forbidden. It was disrespectful to protest even when I knew a part of God was taken from me. I knew that I wasn’t cut because of religious reasons after I confronted my friends who shared my Muslim faith with me. Half of them were not cut. It was for the culture. Most of the Christians I knew where not cut too, they came back to fourth grade happily after receiving their First Holy Communion. There was one however who was as gloomy as me, I figured she was also cut somewhere across the border going towards the region of Casamance in neighboring Senegal. Half of us from old Bakau were circumcised though we never spoke of it. It wasn’t something to be spoken about so we kept it that way. I wasn’t always the best daughter-in-law. My mother-in-law and I never got along. She would have preferred her son Kelepha to wed a second wife but he wouldn’t. Kelepha was grateful to have made a child with me and that was all he cared about. I didn’t like his mother Binta but she loved my daughter Tenneng, and the two of them had quite a remarkable relationship. So she divided her time in the summer between our home in Bakau New Town and her grandparents’ house in old Bakau. The compound was quite big and she had kids her age she could play with. After all, I always felt the woman would not harm her and I guess that was my mistake. I knew enough of pain, so I should have known the people who hurt us the most where the ones we loved and trusted the most. The story gets interesting, it happened in this fashion. I was at home two days after dropping off Tenneng at the family compound. Kelepha had this look in his eyes that was quite unsettling but I could not figure out what it was. He kept his distance most of the day and every time I stared in his way I caught him staring at me with his guilty eyes. Whatever he did, I figured he would come clean eventually. It was Kelepha and the man was terrible at keeping secrets. His charade went on for hours slowly brooding into the night. I was also somewhat moody, something just felt really strange in me. Every space I occupied in my home, the mood trailed behind me like a pleasant companion. I sat in the first sitting room, it was there with me.
I sat in the second sitting room, it was also there. Into my bedroom it was also there as though something followed me through it all trying to whisper but I could not hear. I went to bed that night all alone, Kelepha insisted he’ll join me shortly but he never did. I figured he just wanted to watch some more TV and catch up with the games of the day.
Sometime about 5am in the morning, a powerful wind began to howl almost shaking the roof off our home. The wind had this mysterious aura and since I had trouble sleeping, I got out of bed in my PJ’s, my legs throbbed and my heart felt so heavy, I could barely carry myself on my feet. The night wasn’t quite friendly; I had several dreams that troubled me, dreams of my former ordeals after several miscarriages. I hadn’t had such dreams for quite a while now and that too was unsettling. Either way I got out of bed, made my way to the sitting room where Kelepha sat wide eyed staring at our daughters picture hanged on the wall right above the TV. He barely even noticed me when I walked it. What was wrong with him I wandered? The wind was howling and the window on his right was wide open. In my annoyance, I walked pass him trying hard not to speak to him all. I had a bad night and he wasn’t there to hold me down, so definitely he was going to get some attitude the whole day. However, I couldn’t just take my mind off his face and the look in his eyes when he stared at our daughter’s picture. So I walked pass him and went right for the window and just as I was about to shut it, that wind that howled on the night I made Tenneng was back again. It was strange and it wheezed in my ear like it had a message to deliver to me. Of all the stars that had faded, there was one still in the sky, not so bright but it was awake resting up above the lemon tree my daughter loved to play. At that moment, I could not move my legs, it was as though something in the wind led me to that window and slowly I listened drowning in all the solemnities the wind brought with it. Just like that, I had the first drums of the morning from a neighbors house where newly circumcised boys were harbored. The sound of the drum frightened me so much so that the hairs on my skin rose liked summer grass. I knew that sound, I knew it well enough to understand what it meant. It was as though I was reliving my ordeal on the morning I was circumcised at seven. The stench of blood filled me, the stench of my own blood dripping down my thighs.
When I closed my eyes it was as though I saw the blade that was used to cut the ten of us that year and I was number eight, and since the woman made a mistake, she had to cut me twice. On a wooden table I bleed in vain, my voice taken from me and a part of me removed. The memory of it at that instant terrified me.
Just like that I felt blood dripping down my thighs like meadow. Then I felt a sharp pain in my groin and my breast felt so heavy on my chest. I felt like a part of me was being ripped out like I was imprisoned in my own body. The pain was compared to the night I had Tenneng, the girl nearly ripped me into two but when I held her, it was worth the pain. She was a beautiful thing and I promised her “mummy will never let anything happen to you.” At that moment, the wind loosened its grip on me; my hands fell to my mouth as I screamed a loud groan, the realization dawning on me like a volcano. Oh no! I screamed again. When I looked back Kelepha was staring at me with eyes so full of regret, I would have stabbed him to death if there was time. He said “I meant to tell you after it were done. Mother said it was better that way. All the women in my house were circumcised, yourself included. I hope you understand Ajankey.” If only there was time, I would have stabbed him to death but there wasn’t. The sun was rising and my daughter without my permission would soon be circumcised and that broke my heart. If anything happens to her, I would never forgive myself. She was the best part of me and God me it that way. I ran to my bedroom quickly changed my clothes, picked up my car keys in a hurry and out the gate I was nearly running over a man who rendered curses at me. Old Bakau was a ten minutes’ drive from my house in New Town. Everything I could think of was “what if I’m late? What if I don’t make it there on time? What if she doesn’t make it out alive like Nyima, Kelepha’s youngest sister?” My tears streamed like a wild ocean bursting into life on my face, by the time I reached the family compound in Old Bakau, I had to run over the door with my car, my hands trembled and my back hurt from the impact. But I didn’t care. Uncle Lamin was screaming at me furiously as though I had gone mad. He didn’t matter. “Where are they?” I yelled at the old man.
The look in my eyes told him I was serious. “At the back of the compound.” He answered in fury directing me with his fingers. I ran as fast as I could barely taking notice of anything else. Touray Kunda was quite big, it housed three generations of the Touray’s- their children and their children’s children. Every generation of the Touray women were circumcised and some felt proud that they were. It was as though if one didn’t undergo circumcision as a woman in the family, you didn’t fully belong. I hated it. I hated them all. When I took the last turn to the left I spotted my daughter in line with five of the other Touray girls standing beside a hut. For some reason Tenneng kept glancing back as though she was searching for me. “Tenneng,” I called out to her racing with all the little strength I had left to embrace my daughter. Her eyes were as red as fire, her goofy cheeks dropped like leaves falling off a tree. “You were almost late mama. Grandma was going to start with me because I told her that we were made in the love of God so girls shouldn’t be cut.” In that moment my eyes filled up with tears again as I gazed down at my little one. I thought our knowledge of the world and our comfortable status would ensure my child was protected, I didn’t know her father thought she needed to be tamed. When I was cut I thought it was because we were poor but looking at my daughter and all the other girls in line, I knew the people who put them there were poor mentally. All the money in the world did not change their ridiculous beliefs. They thought protecting their innocence meant taking out a part of them. Staring at my daughter, I removed the wrapper her grandmother tied around her neck and removing my shirt I clothed her with it and carried her in my bosom. When I looked up, my mother-in-law was staring down at me in fury but she kept her tongue to herself. Just then Kelepha came rushing in in such a disoriented state. “If you take the girl with you, she will never be one of us,” my mother-in-law stated quite boldly. What an arrogant woman! Staring and her and her son I felt pity for them. They were ignorant and that was pretty sad. Taking one more look at them I said, “my daughter was made in the love of God.” Then turning my back at them, I embraced my child with the wind to my back and their stares upon us.
I knew and Kelepha knew too our marriage had ended at that moment. But then, there was something in the wind that said my daughter and I would be okay eventually. After all that was all that mattered. She was my precious and she was whole
