IF THEY WOULD LISTEN
I cannot and will not come to terms with the fact that this happened after sleeping with the man just once, of course no one would believe me that it was only once, they would look at his fine, yellow skin, his beard that is so smooth and black, the way he puts one hand on his waist and leans forward before smiling, and they would say that there is no way I could resist sleeping with him multiple times, that in this town of Ogoja, everyone wants to sleep with him multiple times, that is what they would say, even my boyfriend, especially my boyfriend, he would be hurt of course, but I wish it wasn’t so, I wish I could tell him that yes I found the man very attractive and that yes there is no defense for what I have done, but that it happened without me thinking much about it at the time, without me making it into a big thing; it wasn’t and isn’t a big thing even now, just that I noticed a strange taste in my mouth three days ago, before my roommate took one look at my urine in the toilet bowl and dragged me to the hospital for the test that confirmed that a fetus I didn’t want was inside me, so that I then had to go and tell the man about this misfortune, which of course wasn’t a misfortune to him since he was looking for a wife and a child, the two major trappings of an adulthood he had desired since being orphaned as a boy, one of the stories he had told me at the restaurant where music by Prince Niko was playing, and the sweet aroma of roasted goat meat mingled with that of coconut rice to set me in a glorious mood, make me willing to accept the world of this yellow man with the endearing smile, who would later tell me I had to have the baby, who would track down my mother in my hometown to conscript her to his cause, both of them arriving at my dormitory with a priest, all three gathered to tell me I had to have the baby or my sins would never be forgiven, not pausing even a millisecond to ask if I had anything to say, not imagining in any way that I might want to have a say in the organization of my own future, and now I wake every day to my growing belly and wonder if I would ever be able to speak again, no, if I would ever be able to speak again and have anyone listen to me, or if I would have to shout, climb to the top of the tallest steeple with a megaphone, rip open my dress at the front, strain all the muscles in my neck and shout them all into finally listening.