THE BETRAYAL

It was the mid of August- The atmosphere had gathered a wanton cloud. It is evident that the
mother earth is in expectant of a deluge of downpour. There had not been a prior warning at the
break of the day, as the sunshine had beckon us to wake up. But it is the raining season for a
reason. Not even the meteorologist could forecast accurately the weather condition. Ikunn, the
African renown rain sorcerer bow to defeat to the quivering might of the raining season.
When I was 6, I have read in one of my short play about the mighty Abibade of the Ibonu village.
A rainmaker whose fame was wide spread across the villages like a wild-fire. He was greatly
Reverend for his enormous power spiritual power to control rain fall. The villages contribute
yam and money annually to appreciate his spiritual exploits- for giving them rainfall to sprout
their yield. His pluckiness was however not unconnected to the defeat of the Ibase village - a
sworn enemy of the Ibonu. Ajibade had invoked a heavy downpour and torrent storm that
ravaged the houses and property of the Ibase's. This mysterious act had earned him the title "The
lord of the rain". Despite his adept proficiency and prowess. He met his waterloo at the request
of the king to stop rainfall at the peak of the raining season. This is to honour the king's only
daughter. Ajibade was stricken to death by thunder in the middle of his incantations and rituals.
There had never been a heaver rainfall in Ibonu like they experienced that day.
People are already running heather skeeter, some looking for their children. I quickly grabbed by
hand bag and walked as fast as my leg could carry me. Just in the middle of my scampering, I
collided with another figure." Sorry" she said. I retorted the same, as I placed my gaze at her. She
wore a pale looking butter face - with a narrow eye. "Bimbo" she screamed and rushed to hug me.
she cleaved to my arm- she felt thin, lanky and ripen.
Sarah is a cousin who had lost her both parent at a tender age. My father had brought her to live
with us at the request of grandfather. I can still remember the day she arrived our house from the
village. she wore a black bell sleeve dress which big enough for two people. A slipper of
disparate size. One of the slippers was hold together by a Margot carvin nail. Her hair was
tattered- it seems it had not been treated for months. Her 'Ghana must go' handle was thorn and
fade. she wore a sad look to match her appearances. She is a bit taller than I’m and 2 years older
too. I feel I was cursed when Papa asked me to take her to my room. I fought hard to imagine I
will be sharing a room with such creature. I immediately feel like nauseating. what was Papa
thinking? How will I share a room with such an unkept smelly creature?
I reluctantly took her to my room. I never spoke a word to her and she does neither. When it was
time for sleep, I heard her muttered some prayer inaudibly to herself. I kept imagining how I will
sleep beside such an ugly creature. will she not cause me night- mare? Why had papa decided to
punish me this way? I reluctantly slung into the edge of the bed while I focus my gaze at the
ceiling. I can't explain how mother nature had lured me to rest. The following morning, Mom
had called both of us to the parlour - she told Sarah she will be joining me in doing the house
chores and she instructed me to show her around the house. House chores is one of the exercise I
detest so much. I don't know whether to be happy I'm sharing the work with someone or feel sad,
mom is bringing us together. I felt indifferent. I dragged my feet leading the way to the kitchen. I
brought the plates and detergents from the basket and leave her to do the washing. while I sat
down at the cabin and watch her like a mistress. I don't know what she should say but, I'm hating
her silence already. She did the washing and rinsing without asking any question.
I never thought I could make friend with her as I considered her a bush girl but one day. I had a
mathematics assignment on the topic I dreaded most- Algebra. I don't need a soothsayer to
understand my lot if I failed to do Mr. Bello's assignment. He wasn't nicknamed Mr. Blala for no
reason. I had tried severally using the previous class examples as guild without headway. My
eyes are red - I'm already feeling headache. I shudder myself to bed and slept off. I woke up
lately the next day- I hasten my bath and rush to school without taking my breakfast. at school,
we had Mr. Bello for the first session. After the teaching, He ordered us to submit our
assignment.
My heart skipped - I wish the ground will just opened and swallow me. I reclined back to my
desk - my hand shivered as I ruminated to remove my assignment note. "Failure to submit will
attract a double punishment" he roared. I reluctantly submitted it. I imagined the humiliation. I
slung into my sit and try to stay calm while I expect the worse. I was cold all through the other
lessons. The monitor distributed the assignment note after break. I couldn't bring myself to
opening the note as I'm sure of my lot. Some minute later, Mr. Bello had entered the class -
everywhere was still. "Most of you are hell bent at becoming a disgrace to my stoic acumen and
to this great citadel of learning" He thundered. "I shall show you that I'm Bello today anyway"
He added. I know He was talking about me as He kept looking at me - his eye already piercing
me. I wish I can just disappear.
He instructed all those who score below 6 to fall out. I took my book and dragged my feet toward
the door. " sit down Bimbo" He said. I was shocked. is my ear drum misinforming me? There are
only few students still sitting down and I know I don't belong to that class. " you all must learn
from Bimbo, excellent work she had done " He said. I was perplexed - How many Bimbo do we
have in the class? My class mates are already gazing at me. I quickly opened to the assignment
page. I couldn't believe what I saw. 10 of 10. How? This wasn't my writing. Who could have
done this? Maybe an angel who had heard my pain decided to safe me from the torrent of hell in
the hand of Mr. Bello. I got home and asked Sarah if she had touched my book.
Though I refuse to believe she could solve such Algebra- she is a village girl. Though she is in
the same class as myself. Papa had enrolled her at the Government college close to our house.
Papa had chosen to enrolled her there, since she is new to Ibadan. She was crude and only had
gotten local education. I'm sorry if you are angry- you look worried and tired and I decided to
help" she muttered. "You did what"? I asked bewildered. "I'm sorry please, don't tell mom" she
begged. If only she knew I should be the one thanking her for saving me.
From that day, we became two inseparable pair. The sibling I never had. She taught me Algebra
and other mathematics, more simplified than Mr. Bello had ever. I realizes she is more brilliant
than I ever had imagined. Though she got most of her pronunciation wrongly - she knows the
rules of Concord better than I do, and know most mathematical formula off hand. She is better at
calculation subjects. She had won best in mathematics, physics and biology at her promotion
exam. She seems to know everything better than I do. Weekends and Sundays had always been a
special day for both of us. She knows much of the biblical characters and often recount them to
me with reassuring passion. Though my parent is Christian, they often go to church neither are
they concern about the Christian rituals. We only go to church on special occasion; like festival
or any important ceremony. Sarah had succeeded in winning me over to always follow her to
church. Nothing seems fun without her presence anyway. However, I'm more fascinated about
her folk stories - stories about the tortoise and magic drum, why the lion is king of animals, how
the leopard got it spot, why the tortoise has a cracked shell. I always listen with rapt attention.
My favorite of her stories is the frog competition. The frogs had decided to hold a hike race
competition. The first frog to reach the summit of the mountain will be crown king. As they
embarked on the race; it become tiresome - the animals keep shouting "it is not possible," " don't
weir yourself out", " you can't make it". Little by little, they all give up and throw in to fate. But
like Sylphlike, haggard frog Who refuses to bow to the animals glittering. The frog made it to the
summit- surprise, the animals decided to ask the frog - how she had made it to the summit
despite the clamour. Only then, they discover, the frog was deaf was deaf and mute.
We had sat down under the shade of the guava tree at the back of our house. She recounted her
tale with enthusiasm. Some of them are accompany with a special lyric - she teaches me the song
while we sang it together. She taught me how to dance to the Anuva cultural dance- she sways
her hip while she moved her hand left and right to match the movement of her legs. It had always
leave me in great thought. Maybe the villagers are destined to have fun and bromance with
euphonism, while people in the city are cursed into solitude and life of despair and fear. If I can
choose my script - I will want to be a village girl. Who will listen to the folk stories from elders
at moonlight- who will dance to the rethym of the talking drum? I want to walk barefooted to the
stream without fears of kidnappers? Sarah had experienced the exuberant of the village life and
the solitude of the city stride. She is my savor who had saved me from the life of solitude.
I had wanted to study literature as i have an unwavering passion for stories but my parent had
insisted, I study nursing. Being the only child of my parent - they had wanted me to live the
dream the never could live. Sarah had often advised me to give my best to science since I had no
choice. " there is no limit to what you can do" she often say to me. She is my friend, sister and
confider. She covers for me any time I offend at home. Sometimes, she accepts being responsible
for my misdeed. I often wonder how she could take the pain and scold for offences she never
commits. " love covered all sin" she often told me.
I have a boyfriend in my sss2, then I was just 14. I couldn't hide my amorous affair and
excitement from Sarah. Though, I wasn't sure what her reaction will be. Michael was a sss3
student of the art incline course. He is slim, tall, fair - his eyes like a raving dove are always
doting. He is eloquent and have a high sense of humour. He is a bewitching sight to behold. I
have answered without a second thought when He had asked me to be his girlfriend. Sarah had
rebuked my decision- " you're too young for this, it will only distract you. Besides, boyfriend is
an unholy thing" she cautioned. But I was never ready to yield to any Counsel, not even that of
an angel. I was intoxicated with my paramour of swoon. We've both sworn to love each other
forever. We often stay behind after school in other to have a quiet time together. It was heaven. I
have watched several love episodes on Korea film and I’m ready to act the character.
Sarah had always cover for me - washes my dishes. Though this is not without scolding me to
jettison from my love dream. Fast forward - Michael had started demanding for money. It all
started from money for card. " I need #5000 urgently" He say to me. I have told him, there is no
way I can get such huge amount of money. He asked me to take it from my Dad. "Are you
asking me to steal?" I have queried, " it your Dad money and not stealing" he responded. When I
refuse to oblige, Michael had avoided me like plague. I no longer see him after closing and when
I do, he ignores me like I don't exist. I was heartbroken, and so pained. "You don't love me
enough" his voice echoed on my head.
It go was Sunday afternoon, papa had left home to see a friend. Sarah and I were with mom in
the chicken when her phone rang from the room. She asked me to get it for her. I walked into her
room and the first thing that came to my mind was the waded rope close to the bed. I pulled the
handle and my eye fell on the bundle of #1000 notes. I was confused on what to do. This is
stealing, my mind tells me. But it is my Dad money, I rebutted. I was startled by the ringing tone
of my mom phone as it rang again. I quickly remove five of the notes and hide them on my part,
while I quickly rush to give mom her phone.
When I returned from school the next day. I met a hostile atmosphere. I know it wasn't a good
day. Papa called I and Sarah to the parlour. I was scared to the bone. Who took my money, Papa
had thundered with so much vituperating venom. I shuddered. I don't know Dad, I manage to
respond. " I saw Sarah checking the waded rope yesterday- I added. I don't how I say that- I
looked away to avoid her quizzing gaze. Sarah had denied that outrightly - she started crying.
Her tears broke my heart. I wish I to tell Dad that I'm the thief but I lost the strength. I couldn't
form the word.
Papa had ordered her to pack her things. "I cannot harbour a thief under my roof, - I feed and
send you to school and all you could pay me back with is stealing my money. You must leave
before you infect my daughter " He added. I never thought it would be that serious. I never saw
this coming. By evening, she is gone. I betrayed her love and sacrifice.
She always takes responsibility for my offence, why not now? doesn't love cover all sin? Doesn't
love cover all sins. I tried to console myself. "What are you doing in Kogi state"? Her voice
jotted me out of my thought. I'm posted here for my NYSC, I muttered in response. " why are
you here " I asked in same manner. " my husband is from here, He worked as a welder
- I hawk vegetables " she responded. I can see the trail in her hand. She looks battered,
malnourished and scraggy. " I want to get my kid from school before rain fall" she said and
hurried away. I couldn't take my gaze away from her. She had wanted to be a mechanical
engineer. Maybe if I had not stolen the money. If I had not betrayed her love and sacrifice. If I
had stand for her just as she always did for me. If I had been true. If I was strong enough to
accept responsibility for my actions. If only I love like she loves.