WRECKED 15 14

Anaya was admiring herself in the mirror. "Madam…" Eni looked at her. "I think you are putting on some weight."

"Shut up, Eni. Of course I'm not."

"If you say so, ma. But you look very nice."

"Thank you, Eni. You should have said that instead."

Eni had been four months with them and now Anaya could not do without her. Life had become varied for her because it was full of activities for her mistress. "What shall I wear today?" was a regular question.

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But I'm right, Eni insisted. She is putting on weight. That dress isn't as loose as it should be. She stopped, halfway through the door. Of course. Of course, that was it. She ought to know, seeing she looked after Anaya's underwear and washed everything delicate herself. She had not had her period for nearly two months now.

****

A week later, Anaya started feeling sick. Aleruchi came around.

"Oh my! Chukwu, da'alu. God, I thank you. I am going to be a grandmother. Why didn't you tell me? How long is it?"

"Mama, please leave me alone. I didn't know." Anaya said impatiently.

Aleruchi said gently, "Aren't you pleased? Isn't Jubril delighted?"

"He doesn't know, and he wouldn't until I'm sure. With any luck it may just be very late."

"Anaya, you sound as if you don't want it to be a baby. What's the mat—"

"Not now mother. I need to rest. Moving and renovating hasn't been easy."

Aleruchi did not argue. She was obviously upset, poor child. Remembering how ill she'd felt herself, Aleruchi sympathised. Nevertheless, there was more to it than that. Her daughter was not pleased at all.

****

"I can't have it," Anaya said. "I can't have it at all! Impossible."

"Mrs Rufai, I'm afraid I don't understand. Why can't you have the baby?" Dr Aliyu was polite but his expression was unfriendly. What was she saying? This rich, spoiled, young woman in perfect health.

Anaya could feel his hostility. "It's too soon and I'm making a major move and most weekends I shuttle between Maiduguri and Abuja. It's time-consuming for me, doctor!"

She was angry and frightened, so her attempt to sound pathetic failed. "There's no higher commitment than motherhood," he said. "If your life was in danger or there was a genuine risk to your health, I might listen to you, but you're extremely healthy and strong, and you should have a very easy pregnancy. All I need you to do is be careful for the next few weeks."

"I don't want it," she said. "Please help me. I want you to help me."

He moved his chair back and got up. He was still very polite. "I'm sorry," he said. "I don't give that kind of help. Do try to look forward to it. I know so many women who'd give anything in the world to be in your place, Mrs Rufai."

Anaya stood up. "I wish they were," she said. "Thank you, doctor."

She cried in the car on the way home as she thought of her cousin, Ndidi.

****

Nothing could hurt the baby. Right up to three months she'd run up and down the stairs, performed rigorous activities, exhausted herself to no end. Yet, nothing went wrong. The morning sickness stopped, the baby remained firmly growing inside and refused to be dislodged. When she told Jubril, he was delighted and drove her mad by fussing. He wanted the child of course. He talked about a boy, as if the sex were not in doubt. They had spent the Christmas holiday in Abuja with his mother, Mustapha and Kuku in that ugly mansion of a house. Everyone gushed over her. She grew larger and ill-proportioned. She was bad-tempered and demanding, and she sacked Eni, who refused to take her seriously, so she sacked one of the cooks, who did.

After the holidays, she returned to Lake Alau. Redecoration began. As she became uglier, the house became more beautiful. In this house, her home, Anaya found a kind of tranquillity. She decided to plan a birthday party for Jubril. She would use the opportunity to show o her home. For weeks, she was busy with preparation, and then a bomb-blast at Maiduguri's police headquarters put an end to her well-planned party. Dignitaries cancelled at the last moment.

"What can I do?" she demanded. "The governor, the rst-lady, the senators, the council chairmen and board of directors – they have all cancelled. This is just bad."

Jubril looked at her. She was twenty-six, mature and as lovely as a young woman, but she seemed no more than a petulant and silly child. Have I done this? He thought, seeing the scowl on her face. Have I turned the intelligent, original girl with all her Igbo air and independence into a spoiled useless creature? He felt angry with himself more than with her.

"They cancelled because of the bomb-blast. They are becoming more frequent, if you noticed. I wish you can understand that."

Anaya stared at him. "You can talk. You did not go through the trouble of planning the party. I did. Stupid bombers. They should have waited till after the party." She sighed.

Jubril stopped blaming himself. That last remark was a deliberate provocation. He came up and grabbed her by the arm. "A bomb detonated and killed dozens of people. The situation in the city is worsening. It will continue to deteriorate. Don't you understand? Don't you care? I'm disappointed!"

Anaya wrenched her arm away "Let me go." He stepped away from her, turned and slammed the door as he walked out.

The door opened again. Eni walked in with a glass of kunu.

"Thank you, Eni."

"I think you should cancel the party, ma."

"Oh, shut up!"

"It'll look better, you know. People shouldn't be giving parties at a time like this."

"Who cares what I do, Eni? Who cares?"

"Nobody, most likely. It just looks better, as if you and your husband were serious about it. Like the rest of us."

"Eni, what does it matter to you?" Anaya asked, rolling her eyes.

"I grew up in Nyanya, a small village near Abuja. There was a bomb-blast there last week. I saw it on the news. I mind about it."

"Oh! You never speak about your childhood, Eni."

"There is nothing interesting to speak about, ma. My parents died in an accident and I grew up in a foster home. That's all."

"I'm sorry about that. You have me, anyway. I'll take care of you."

"Thank you, ma."

Anaya did not seem to hear her as she rubbed her arm. Jubril had held on so tightly. Suddenly she did not feel like entertaining people. The motive was gone.

Perhaps Eni was right. She had this straightforward common sense that saw the obvious. Cancelling the party was the right thing to do in the circumstance.

She took a sip of her kunu, found it excellent as usual, and reached for her phone.

There was a report in the press the next morning that the famous Mrs Rufai had cancelled her party as a sign of concern over the Boko-Haram crisis. It was the beginning of her reputation as a patriot.

****

In the first week in April, as her due date approached, a vigorous contraction overwhelmed her as she came out from the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Eni rushed to her side. Anaya was shaking convulsively, unaware of Eni's presence. Little flecks of foam spattered her upper lip. In a few seconds, the attack passed and she lay moaning quietly.

"Madam," Eni said urgently, "what's the matter?"

Anaya opened her eyes and stared wildly at her maid. "Mother, thank God you've come. I need you."

"It's Eni, ma." Her gaze faltered. "I have no more strength left—Ndidi! I can see Ndidi…"

Her voice trailed off to a groan as another powerful contraction started.

"Oh, God! Hang on, ma."

Eni bounded out the door and shouted for help as she ran down the stairs. Two of the male sta ran up, picked Anaya and carried her gently to the car. She was panting and groaning and obviously still in immense pain. Eni ran back for Anaya's phone and called Dr Aliyu as she ran to the car.

"Dr Aliyu, my madam is in labour. She seemed to have had some sort of convulsion, sir."

Eni's words chilled the doctor, who said, "Get her here as quickly as you can."

Eni jumped into the car as she dialled Jubril's number. The driver drove the car in fits, never stopping for anything until they reached the hospital. The driver and Eni carried Anaya who was still mumbling "Ndidi…", and two nurses, running out of the reception, put her on a stretcher and quickly wheeled her through to the maternity ward. Dr Aliyu was standing at the entrance of an operating room, waiting. He took over and asked them to remain at the reception.

Eni sat in silence and waited. Frightening cries and screams, unlike any sound she had ever heard anyone make, came from the delivery room—succeeded by an even more frightening silence. Eni felt very helpless. She sat there for over an hour. Eventually, a tired Dr Aliyu emerged. Eni rose as the doctor looked at her. He put a hand on her shoulder. "Your mistress is fine, but we couldn't save the baby."

Eni's legs gave way and she sank unto the bench.

"Her blood pressure gave me cause to worry, but it was never near danger level. When you brought her in today, for no apparent reason it had soared to the level where eclamspia ensued."

"Eclampsia?"

"Convulsions, like you called it." Eni drew a shuddering breath and let her head fall into her hands.

"Has something been troubling her lately?"

Eni raised her tear-streaked face. "Not something. Someone. The baby. And another someone called Ndidi." Eni thought of the times she heard her mistress scream the name in her sleep. She wondered who she was.

The doctor looked around the waiting room. "Where is her husband?"

"He'd be here soon. I caught him at a meeting in Abuja. He'll be here."

Chapter end