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Ade's Journal Part 6

Ade's Journal Part 6
My Valentine & The Elegance Of A Clean Breakup

Ade's Journal Part 5

Ade's Journal Part 5
My Scrumptious Valentine Kiss

Ade's Journal Part 4

Ade's Journal Part 4
A Scorpion is not a Lobster

Ade's Journal Part 3

Ade's Journal Part 3
My Insane Week Before Valentine

Ade's Journal Part 2

Ade's Journal Part 2
He Had The Guts To Come Back

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Wednesday, 21 December 2016

64 Babies Stolen And The Truth Is Still Fuzzy


  The spurs of life, aim to regenerate and duplicate itself for better or for worse, right? And as it travels through time and space, the obstacles in its way and vehicles conveying it, collide, until one outweighs the other. Such is the need to survive to keep the specie alive and to replicate ourselves. Man is unique in this sense, we don’t just try, we strive to do this with ease. In my case, I did it easy, well like they say.. I chop clean mouth, as in. We were both teenagers in love, in hidden corners praying we won't get caught. For where? All my friends did it too, but my own frolicking, my own journey yields twins. The first since my great grandmother on my mother’s side. Did I set out to procreate, no. I am in the family way with no source of income, the father is a distant cousin fortunate to be sent to school by generous relatives. And just as I believe I am doomed to be stuck here in a forgotten village, my uncle has a solution. Yes, go with him to a unique church. Not the one I attend in the village ooo. They must not know that I have lost my virginity. I am after all, choir mistress and my mother, mummy church. This my sin, I must hide and disguise under education. I am going to Lagos to further my education, that’s what I tell everyone. But in reality, I am going to have my babies. I have not been to any hospital, but I have missed my period and my belly is perfectly round. They kick at different times. And move and play in my womb, last night everything changed. I stopped feeling one of them and the village midwife says she recognized the problem. I have to have them immediately. Luckily, my uncle from Lagos attends a unique church. With seventeen thousand Naira I can have them, easily. My mother has because of me, done the unthinkable. She has dipped her hand and borrowed from people who trust her. The total amount is fifty thousand Naira, my transport and feeding and health center, unique church money. To hide my shame, which is her shame, she has stolen money and I can tell she is devastated. Just before we got to the motor park, she insists we go and confess to our head pastor. I beg her not too, I have lied to everyone already and her confession would expose me. Did she hear me? No. What do you think was the outcome? It was not good, at all at all. My mother had lied and stolen for the first time in her life because of me, a lustful daughter of Eve. Her punishment was that, she will forfeit six months salary and must go on a dry fast for two weeks. You see why, my secondary school boyfriend easily deceived me. I am surrounded by confused, controlling brainwashing tyrants. My mother is too skinny and fragile to fast. Do I have the guts to challenge them? No. Is this the worse of my troubles? No. I leave the village and get to Sango Ota in Lagos and cannot walk again. My uncle carries me into the old dilapidated building. Two women received me, a nurse and the head pastor. They have a stove with hot water and scissors and all sorts in It, there is a glove box and plenty cotton wool. It feels like there are two stones inside me, none of them are moving and I want my mother’s voice to console me. I shut both legs tight and refuse to push any further. Not as if I was actually pushing, I’m so exhausted. My uncle knows I will do nothing until I hear her voice. Instead of my mother's voice, I hear my village pastor. He is talking and praying, I am grateful but I just need to hear her voice. As I do, I feel better and energy surges into my teenage body. I choose to survive and I place gentle hands over my belly and declared that they will be fine. I hear the first baby cry and then the second. Tears of joy escape from my mouth and I stretched to hold them. I see it’s a boy and a girl and vow to work and be a good example to my children. Only, the nurse runs out with my daughter and my uncle follows her. I try to stand, but the owner of the makeshift health center and pastor stops me. Hold your son and be grateful, were words she told me. I do not understand the gravity of what she is saying. Your daughter is dead, it was not a laughing matter. Yet I laughed, then show me her body, I declared. Their answer, the one they gave me, is unsatisfactory to me. So I get bullied, cleaned up and warned not to say a word. I stare hard at the man my mother, handed me over to. The man, my uncle who is supposed to protect me. I stand when they least expect it and see money change hand’s. They have sold my daughter and I will not be silent. My own baby is the last they will try to steal. it is a struggle and I have cried to police stations, media houses and people are listening. I have no money, but the will to reunite my children fuels me, sympathizers have helped. Mother's whose babies have been stolen have come out to support me. And in all, 64 Babies Stolen And The Truth Is Still Fuzzy. So the truth isn't as clear cut as it seems, there are signs of cracks and jaggers in between. It is bitter sweet, but I will not be silenced and neither should you.
   So, I’m wondering why someone would steal a baby and the worst part is that her uncle is involved. When I read all these crazy child abduction stories, I just don’t get it. Why would her uncle sell his neice, the law must not take it easy with him at all.
‘Why are you upset?’
 I did not know that I was frowning that much.
‘It’s upsetting’, I tell my new close friend.
'You read about the church helping women with pregnancy issues ‘, Opeyemi said. As if I was castigating an innocent woman.
'You think her niece is lying?’
'I think there’s more to the story’
 I got upset and took it very personal.
'What do you mean? If her baby daughter died, then where is the corpse?’
‘The police will investigate and make the correct judgement’
 Somehow, I feel like I’m been blamed for taking sides.
'This is a poor teenager who was tricked to Lagos and one of her kids was stolen’
 Opeyemi still did not empathize with her. The look on Daniel’s face, made me realize there was more going on. So I say nothing more and just let it all go. Opeyemi stepped away from and Daniel joined me.
‘She lost a child the same way’
‘As a teenager and to a fraudulent unregistered nurse?
‘That is deep'
'Not or girl?'
'She never got to know, she was told the baby died and found out the woman running the illegal hospital was selling all the children and lied tgey did'
'And the father?
'Not interested, he relocated to London and could not be bothered'
'Do you think she will ever find the child?'
'Eventually, yes'
'DNA test and a little bit of luck'
'It's sad you know'
'I know'
'Where is Henrik?'
'With his new best friend'
'How is Bala doing it?'
'Doing what?'
 Sometimes, Nigerian English can have a life of its own. Just listen again to the question Daniel Ojora just asked. It's so funny. He ignored me and continued to talk as if he did not hear me.
'He has collected my best friend from me'
'He spends more time with him than with me. And I will not listen to any excuse he has '
'Bala can be very  persuasive'
'And I'm not?'
 I had no answer to his question and i just shake my head.
'Where is your babe?'
'Stop dodging the question'
 My dearest husband walks into our home and I have a sigh of relief.
 Not just that, I dive on him and welcome him. He was not alone, Ajoke was with him and I hugged her too.
 I grab her hand and drag her into my guest room.
'What's up?'
'It's Daniel Ojora, I'm getting fed up'
'Of what?'
'He is always in my space and Henrik is always with Bala'
'Your husband's are the latest best friends'
 Enjoying all of the gist, my friend laughed.
'I am tired of keeping him company'
'Then send him to my house'
'Bala is never there...'
'I mean, lie'
'For peace of mind'
'Henrik knows'
'So he wants you to get fed up with him'
'I've heard all his gist, it's so annoying'
'Then let's hang out more'
'Away from the guys right?'
 We both echo and laugh, it's where I've wanted us to go all year.
'My kids have never been'
'Thats true ooo'
'Tomorrow then, before the Christmas buzz takes over'
 I was deep in thoughts, thinking of how a mother can feel knowing her child is out there.
'Ade, where is your mind?'
'You heard of people stealing and selling babies...'
'Yes, it's sad'
'Opeyemi was a victim'
'My God, God is her strength'
'Na real wa'
'Daniel told you this?'
'Just before you walked in"
'The guy is confused'
'Why do you say that?'
'Ade, you know why'
'He's on his own'
'So beach, here we come'
 We both shriek and hug ourselves and Bala comes in with the babies pram.
'If you wake the twins up, you will rock them back to sleep'
 Laughing, I loved our friendship and can't wait to rock my new beach wear.

What about you, what are your plans this Christmas weekend?

**Season 1, Episode 93**
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Adebusola Ukayat Elegbede is a Playwright and Content creator with a passion for real life challenges. Born in Kaduna state and lives in Lagos Nigeria, she has a passion for story telling from the perspectives of characters in conflicting situations. I started out on the New Writing Project in Nigeria with the British Council Lagos Nigeria and The Royal Court Theatre, Sloane Square U.K. My passion for creating stories led to comic books, television drama's and an online journal on my website (busolaelegbede.com). As part of the WPIC in Stockholm Sweden 2012, the experience has forged life long friends and ignited my passion as a volunteer and advocate for human rights and the United Nations 17 Sustainable Development Goals.

Follow @Busola Elegbede