This is a story about Afuape, a young Nigerian lady. Afuape lived with her mother in Lagos. Her parents were separated, and her brother was away in school in another city far from Lagos.
Afuape was due to travel in August. She had known of this trip several months ahead; after all, she made the visa application and completed the documentation process. However, she kept the knowledge of the trip to herself, only sharing the news with her mother Iya, two weeks before the trip. This was her first time traveling outside the country, and she was unsure how to fully navigate the emotions, the financial and physical demands that came with this new terrain.
On the night predeparture, she laid on the mat on the floor in the one room she shared with her mother. She coiled in fetal position and silently cried as she listened to the sniffs and muffled tears that came from the bed. That moment became one of the most special times of her life. Her mother laid in bed, the lights were off, and they communicated in the silent exchange of affection between each other. Afuape did not know when she slept off, but she remembers the warm liquid that held her chest as she drifted to sleep. She felt loved and comforted.
For the final time in Afuape's life life, that morning, she woke up at dawn in their one room apartment. She tied the wrapper that served as her cover cloth and towel to her chest, and stepped out of the room towards the well that served all the families in the compound. The building has 12 rooms that housed 9 families, complete with two shared bathrooms and toilets detached from the main building. She stepped out into the cold morning with the bucket she had pulled out of its storage space just at the feet of the bed her mother slept in, two feet away from the television set, just behind the pot of soup her mother had made the night before.
You see, Afuape and her mother probably would have had more room to spread their belongings, but Iya had been denied access to a room and parlor she had long pined for. She had rented the single room from the owner who was due to move out of the house. Since the owner was her mother’s friend, they had hoped that they would move into the vacated room and parlor after the owner moved out. Though the upgrade would come at a cost, and they were ready to pay the price. In the end, the owner had instead rented it out to a different family, their hope of an upgrade was shattered.
Since the house had just one kitchen the size of a shoe box, Afuape and her mother cooked in front of their room, carrying the kerosene stove in and out of the house as they cooked. Afupe fetched the water for her bath and for the morning chores and carried the water filled buckets back to the front of the room. As she walked back, she could hear her mother praying, and she knew Iya was awake.
“good morning ma” Afuape said as she walked into the room, opening the net and mesh door. “Good morning dear” Iya responded. Afuape looked at Iya's face, and she saw the dried tears Iya had tried to hide the night before.
Afuape swept the floor, took out the stove to reheat the soup, and it was time for morning devotion. The prayer that morning was exceptionally long. It covered thanksgiving to God of the lives preserved and the opportunity that allowed Afuape to travel abroad. The extra time praying was spent asking for protection, wisdom and provision for the journey ahead. Iya choked on tears a couple of times during the prayer session. At the end of the prayer, they both hugged tightly , and Iya with tears in her eyes said “God bless you”. Afuape tried to voice out a response, but she couldn’t, no matter how hard she tired. Her throat was constricted with tears and emotions she could not describe with words.
Afuape and Iya finally got around to taking their baths. Because they woke up very early, they did not have to queue to use the bathroom.
The taxi was waiting to take them to the airport. As Afuape dragged her travel box through the corridors, their neighbors came out of their rooms one to see what sound woke them up so early in the morning. This was a little dramatic. You see, Iya's one room was at the back of the house, a smaller building detached from the main building. It was as though Afuape was on a runway dragging her heaving luggage with its creaky, loud wheels, and the audience were her peeking neighbors. Afuape imagined being a model on a catwalk and the audience was cheering. It looked as though the moment had been previously rehearsed. Afuape looked back at Iya carrying the second box. Her face was so radiant, beaming with pride and affection. Iya was the supporting character in this runway show.
As they stepped out of the door of the house that led to the main road where the taxi waited, Iya's friend who lived across the street ran towards Afuape to help lift the box into the car trunk. Iya had informed her friendof the planned trip, and she was waiting that morning. Afuape caught Iya's friend wiping her tears with the edge of her wrapper as she spoke to Iya. After their conversation, Iya's friend walked towards Afuape and hugged her. As she hugged Afuape, she said “ko oriire. Emi naa a se iru e fun omo”**. After this, she left Afupe to speak to Iya. After their brief conversation, Afupe and Iya got in the car, ready to depart for the airport.
As Afupe sat in front of the car beside the driver, she took one long final look at the house on Ladega street. She felt exposed. She was leaving the familiar for the unknown. As the car turned out of their street towards Akere road, she heaved a loud sigh. Her eyes connected with my Iya's through the rearview mirror, and Iya smiled. Her smile gave Afuape hope and confidence for the journey ahead.
** Loosely translated as "Congratulations. I will do the same for my children"
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