When the Heart Weeps



Munirat held her breath as she snuck into the tiny one room apartment she shared with her husband. She shut the door gently behind her with one hand, while balancing her daughter on the other. The baby wriggled and she patted her back in an attempt to make her calm down. She couldn’t afford to wake her husband, it would only take one wail to rouse him, then she would have to face his wrath after explaining where she was coming from.


She quickly shoved the black polythene bag into the cupboard opposite the bed and kicked her slippers into a corner as her husband woke up. He coughed, a loud and phlegm filled cough and made as if to stand up from the bed. She shifted closer to the bed and as he placed his feet on the floor he spotted her, with the baby in her arms, trying her best to look like she had just woken up.

“Where are you going?” he asked suspiciously

“Baba Tope, I’m going to fetch water downstairs” She said. He glared at her “Together with that child? Munirat moved the baby to her other hip “She was crying, and I didn’t want her to wake you up, so I –“

“Sharrap and go and fetch me water jare”, he growled “that is your problem, you talk too much”

Munirat picked up the black rubber keg behind the door and went out onto the verandah, where she breathed a sigh of relief. She had come in not a moment too soon. As she went down the stairs and past the rooms of the other tenants in the building, she began to go over in her mind, the items the prophet had told her to bring along with her for their next appointment. She would have to go to the market, and somehow find a way to hide the things from her husband when she got back. But hopefully, things would work according to plan this time. Tope would be well, and her husband would finally embrace his daughter and accept her for the loving child that she was.

*

From the moment the nurse had placed Tope in her arms she had known that something was wrong with her child. She had sensed it intuitively; it was her first taste of maternal instinct. She had looked up and seen that the nurse bore an uncomfortable expression on her face. “My sister please is something wrong with my baby?” she had asked. The Nurse avoided her eyes ‘wait for the Matron” She’d said “she will soon be resuming for morning duty” Then she’d moved quickly to the woman in the bed beside her, who was recovering from a cesarean section delivery she’d had two days before.

Munirat looked down at her child, the baby seemed to be unusually still, she didn’t move much and her breath came in small, barely audible gasps. She began to rack her gently, while singing an old song in her native language that she had learnt for her mother.

About half an hour later, the matron showed up, they exchanged greetings and the woman began to examine the baby, she frowned. “Where is your husband?” she asked Munirat. “He went home soon after I delivered, when he found out I had given birth to a girl child. Munirat replied. She added quickly “but I’m sure he’ll be back soon. Please Ma, is everything all right with my child?” The Matron sighed; well I’ll ask the Doctor when he comes for ward inspection to take a look at her. We’ll see what he says.

The Doctor arrived and ordered a series of tests to be done. The next day, the lab technician brought the results and the Matron gently tried to explain to Munirat that her daughter might not live for very long, and would have to be placed on a number of different medications as long as she was alive. It was something about an abnormality in her cells that didn’t allow her body to properly break down oxygen in her bloodstream. Munirat wept profusely. She thought about what her husband would say, he had already made it quite clear that he wasn’t thrilled about the sex of the baby. How would he take the news that she was sickly as well? She thought about her parents and in laws all eagerly waiting to meet the latest addition to the family, and how disappointed they would probably feel when they heard the news. Lastly, and most importantly, she thought about her daughter, the innocent child that would suffer needless pain and agony for God knew how long. There had to be a way out of this surely? She would ask around, she would do all she could, anything to cure her baby from this sickness.

That day marked the beginning of a series of meetings and appointments with different doctors in government hospitals across various states. After the fourth out of state visit to a Teaching hospital, her husband had given up and demanded that she get rid of the child, he wanted nothing more to do with her. Munirat was horrified, she tried to plead with him but he refused to budge. From then onwards, he refused to call Tope by her name and instead referred to her as ‘that child’. It broke Munirat’s heart and made her more determined to find a cure for her daughter’s ailment.

*

Recently, a friend had introduced her to a prophet whom it was said had the power to heal all sicknesses and diseases. She had arranged a meeting for Munirat and taken her up to his hut in the mountains where he held his consultations and sometimes performed mysterious acts of healing. He had informed Munirat that he would have to perform a cleansing ritual for Tope, to drive away the evil spirits that were causing her to be ill, and gave her a list of items she would need to purchase for the ritual to be carried out. He sent her away with instructions on the date, timing and venue of the session which was to hold on the seventh day of the seventh month of the year, at the 11th hour. Before that session however, they were to have a pre-cleansing meeting where he would ‘prepare’ Tope for her healing. The Pre-session had held the night before, had cost her eleven thousand Naira, and almost resulted in her getting caught while sneaking in this morning from the all night session.

The cleansing proper would cost another twenty five thousand naira, and she had the two weeks left to the ceremony to come up with the money. She had about five thousand naira hidden away and planned to loan the remaining from Iya Beji, the woman who owned the shop beside her stall in the market, where she sold green vegetables and okra. She held strongly unto the hope that the Prophet was as powerful as people said he was, and that this time finally, her baby would be healed......