THE SILENT KILLER

I have lost many things in my life. My grief generally depends on the reason for the loss; but what happened to Maami was such a loss that cracked the very core of my soul.

It happened on one of the happiest days of my life.

I had just returned from classes that day, school was as gruelling as it was intriguing; I had just received a text message confirming that I was awarded a 250k scholarship that would be renewed until I finished school. 

How did it feel? I felt like I was being tickled to death!

Happy as a clam, I rushed back home with the music in my headphones at full blast. Maami hated when I did this but I had never been happier with my decision to school from home as I let the icy chill of H20 swim past the cliff of my throat, sending a cold fritz down my spine and washing my insides. Gulping like a desert nomad, I down the chilled water straight from the bottle; another thing Maami hated. 

I would compensate by giving her a long hug while she squirmed and protested in my arms, especially now that the aroma of my favourite food- Amala ati Abula sifted through my nostrils. The praises of Maami’s culinary skills hung comfortably in the atmosphere. My stomach could read the inscription that the day was going to end as smoothly as it started.

“Mo ti de le o” I said wondering where she’d wandered off to this time. I sauntered into Maami’s room and found her lying by her sides on the big foam and that was all I needed to conclude that her unresponsiveness meant she had fallen asleep.

I would have shaken her awake but I literally could not talk, much less enter her kitchen unless I had had a bathe. That was part of the unspoken rule of the house, all my years as a child that had always been tradition; hence, I trotted happily towards the bathroom.

Hurriedly yet calmly, I allowed the coolness of the water I scooped from the iron bucket _Maami once announced was older than me_ win the war over the heat rising from my chest and temple. I felt my emotions calm and I had such clarity of thought about what I was going to do with the money that I didn’t even notice the suction pressure my slippers made with the wet, slippery bathroom floor, or the noise our neighbour’s inverter made when power was restored.

Lonely streams of water rolled down my head and back as I lazily tossed my pale yellow towel and threw on a purple Lakers T-shirt, sank into a pair of yellow shorts and headed straight to the kitchen. Maami was still asleep, “she must be really tired” I thought; Maami hated being woken from her communion with sleep, she always said I could have spoilt a potential life-changing dream about winning the lottery. 

Yes, Maami dreamt of money every time she closed her eyes... it was all she thought about mostly. She was hell bent on giving me the best education she could afford and swore she wouldn’t allow me suffer like she had suffered especially after my father died and life threw us a heavy punch because she hadn’t completed her education.

Now in the kitchen; my God, the aroma was thickest there. I dished out my Amala from the cooler and from the pots; I dished out my Gbegiri and Ewedu respectively, Eja-kika and stew. Honestly, the way my stomach grumbled loudly in anticipation was enough to produce a diss track mocking western food. Nothing fills me quite like Amala. Armed with my food, I marched to the parlour and dropped my prize on the cold, bare floor. 

“Omooo!” I muttered, as I sat beside my soon-to-be-devoured prey. I whispered a short prayer rather unconsciously as I was already moulding the Amala in my hands and soaking it in my soup.

I don’t know why I was so carried away by the food that I didn’t even look towards Maami’s room. My gaze was carefully shared between the Amala, the soup, and Manga I was so blissfully reading on my small, mobile companion.

By the time I had finished eating and washing my soup-soaked hands...Maami was still sleeping and I wondered for how long. I checked her room; she had neither turned nor so much as made a sound.

“Maami”, I said tapping her shoulder, “wake up, I have good news”.

I wanted to leave her be, but a nagging urge forced me to start shaking her awake, Maami snored when she was in a deep sleep but I didn’t hear anything.

“Maami, wake up nauuu”, my voice got higher “se dada le wa?”

Panic washed over me when I saw her standing B.P instrument. The last reading on it was 160/90. Fear itself glided past me, the hairs on my skin got up. 

I touched her neck to confirm my fear. Maami was no more...

I screamed till my vocal cords felt sore, our neighbours rushed in and carried her limp body inside our landlord’s car to the hospital.

On Investigation the doctor confirmed she was brought-in-dead and that she had a cardiac arrest and died.

I raised eyes red and engorged with tears as to the doctor as he listed the dangers of consistent High Blood Pressure.

My conclusion was that I could have prevented this. I KILLED MAAMI.

“We knew she had hypertension but we didn’t think it was anything serious. I thought her excessive worrying was the cause. We didn’t know it could cause sudden death! How do people die in their sleep?

It truly is a silent killer.”

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