I hate my name. The ndidi part of it. Ndidi means patience, patience means endurance, endurance means suffering and more suffering and more suffering.
I suspect that my name has cursed me or my Chi woke up with diarrhoea today because if not, I wouldn't be sitting here on this damp floor, hungry, tired and shivering.
I hear footsteps and kneel down again. I knew she was coming. Her scent filled the humid morning breeze and gave an announcement of her arrival even before she walked through the rusty balcony door. She stuck her head out first and smiled. I want to spit on her, but I don't because I can't. She would kill me. Not that I mind very much. Being alive has been anything than thrilling.
"So you dropped your hands?"
Oh no, I forgot that she had asked me to raise my hands while I knelt down. I lift my hands immediately. I am tired. This woman hadn't let me eat or drink anything since yesterday afternoon when I started serving this punishment.
She is sauntering around the tiny backyard and I hear a cock crow in a distance. I imagine her turning into a chicken. A fat ugly chicken, or thin ugly one. Ugly either way...
I hear the slap before I feel it. A heavy one on my back.
"Are you laughing! You idiot! Who do you think you are laughing at!"
I didn't realise I had been laughing at the image of my aunty as a chicken aloud. She is lunging at me now and twacking every part of my body with her slippers. My head, my face, my back, I'm hungry. I hear myself muttering that I am hungry. I don't think she hears me or maybe she heard and chose to ignore. I can hear footsteps, my uncle, I think. I hear his voice, or is it a neighbour's voice? He is asking her to leave me alone. She doesn't. She is tearing my hair and slapping my left cheek now. I want to beg her to stop but my face is swollen and I can't talk. I taste blood. A lot of blood. I even spit some out but she doesn't stop.
The last time she beat me like this was about three months ago. That beating was punishment for eating one of the meats in the soup pot. Immediately I had healed enough to move around, I ran to my mother's house to tell her what happened.
My mother had consoled me, cried with me and cursed at my aunty, but she said I could not come back home because there was no money for my fees. I was the best graduating student in primary 6 and it wouldn't have been fair for my education to come to an abrupt end as smart as I was. I had to work for my aunty to earn some money. It was the best way, the only way. Following her to the market to sell egusi would have meant more expenses, transport for two, feeding for two Or do you want to become one of the Kuna girls? The ones that sell their bodies to men in the market? She had asked me. I didn't want to be a kuna girl. I wanted to grow up, be a lawyer and get married to a respectable man. No kuna girl ever got married to a respectable man. I shook my head and told her so. She hugged me and begged me to go back to my aunt's house.
"Nwee ndidi, be patient" was what she said as I walked out of her room.
Nwee ndidi. Ndidi. Patience. Endurance. Suffering.
I feel something hit my head or my head hit something. I'm seeing chickens a lot of them. They are dancing. I want to laugh, but I can't, my throat is clogged, my lips can't move. I can't feel anything now, but I still perceive my aunt's perfume. I hear my mother again, a faint whisper this time;
Nwee Ndidi, be patient.
"I was patient.", I think as I sink into darkness.
Author's note: Hi! Happy 2021!
Oh and first, I'd like to apologise to any Ndidi that might be reading this. Your name is absolutely beautiful; Patience is indeed a virtue and I imagine that it is an honour to be named after a virtue.
I hope we have an amazing year!
2 Comments