Dancing in the Rain (Part 2)

Everyone in school looked forward to Fridays. It was the shortest school day in the week and we let out at 1pm after an hour of club activities. I wanted to join the hiking club, but Mother said no, again. “It is a rugged extra-curricular activity for a young lady,” she said. So, I joined the Girls’ Etiquette Club, baking brownies and learning how to curtsy. I smiled and skipped as I exited the activity room that particular day, not because Eku picked me up earlier than her habitual 1:30, but I had seen the gathered clouds darken. It was going to rain and mother and father would not be home until 6pm. My hair was due for a redo on Saturday morning and I would have to loosen my plaits later in the day anyway, so Eku could wash my hair. Nothing could stop me from performing my first rain dance.

I race upstairs to change into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and race back downstairs. “Were u dey run as if fire dey for your bum-bum.” I stop dead in my tracks as Eku calls out from the kitchen. My joy slowly drains out as I struggle to come up with a good reason to give for going outside. She wipes her hands on the dishcloth as she walks into the living room, and stands with her arms akimbo waiting for an answer. “Abi person don cut off your tongue,” she angrily snaps at me. Mrs. Ama my Geography teacher asked us to count the raindrops for a project so we could measure the speed of a rain gauge. I know that made no sense at all, but for Eku who had no form of formal schooling, it would suffice. She gives me a long look that reads disbelief and walks back to the kitchen muttering, “all these things dem dey give small pikin wey dey read book to do, mad person no go do am sef.” I chuckle to myself and savor my tiny victory as I shut the door behind me.

The smell of rain is unforgettable, a mixture of wet cement with fresh leaves, and the sense of calm that sets in with it. The rain drops come down steadily and start pouring. Yes, let it pour. Let the rain wash me clean from all the evil I have come to know at the age of six. Let it purge my ears that ring each night with mother’s screams when she and father quarrel into the night. I hear the sounds of doors slamming as father leaves before the crack of dawn to seek peace and solace elsewhere from mother’s ranting before he heads to work. He says, “Atanka, you should have never happened, you caused your mother to go mad from childbirth.” May the rain remove the ring of bitter truth from my brain, I pray. I sing and dance to the tune I have come to master from my classmates. I spin faster as the rain falls even more. My wet clothes cling to my body and I start to feel dizzy. Why didn’t mother take those pills Eku swallows frequently, she says it kills babies. Then, I would not have brought misery to anyone and would dissolve into non-existence. No! That is an evil thought too. Those unborn babies deserve a chance to live. I pick up my pace again, spinning faster and suddenly everywhere becomes still. No more voices, no screams, just silence. The rain dance worked.

White walls surround me. I try to move, but a wave of pain overcomes me. Figures are moving around and I try to focus. “She really had a bad fall, you know. You should never allow your child to play unattended and on slippery ground too. That is complete negligence.” A man dressed in white is talking really fast to a man and woman. She is crying profusely while he paces the length of the room. “The fall traumatized her brain and she has amnesia. Thankfully, from the tests we have performed, she recognizes colors, shapes, and certain names, but her memory of events has completely been erased. She still does not know who you are.” I shut my eyes tightly so no one would know I have been listening. Was I meant to know who they were? They all look confused. I feel a soft hand clasp over mine and hear a woman say, “Ata everything is going to be just fine.” Oddly, I believe her. A smile spreads across my face slowly and I drift off to sleep.