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The Joys of Motherhood
Buchi Emecheta
(First published 1979)
She was going to make the best of a day like this, when Oshia was not at home, after feeding the baby, whom she still would not name until her husban arrived, and whose birth she would not announce to her father, lest a name be sent from Ibuza before Nnaife had the chance to see his son. But she knew she could not wait for ever; the child was now six weeks old and everybody simply called him "Baby". She washed him, and with the money she had saved from the rent went out in search of a place to buy cigarette cartons on the black market. She was surprised at what changes had taken place in the year since she had last had enough capital to invest in a whole carton. Now, look as she might, she could only see soldiers in khaki uniforms strolling along the marina. There he was no friendly sailor to ask her if she wanted to buy any surplus from the ship. Unbelieving, she took a ferry and crossed over to Apapa wharf, but the story there was the same. There was a shortage of cigarettes. She had to go home, stopping only at the John Holt's sstore to buy a small carton at the legal price. She would ahve to think of soemthing else to sell. The joy of trading in cigarettes had been that she would buy them at about half the market price and after sales make a huge profit, the profit which went into feeding her family. She felt very sorry for herself now. how was she going to manage? Well, if thing continued as they were, she would have to go back to Ibuza before the rent was due.
Having made up her mind, she walked with confidence carrying her day's purchases on her head. She beamed happily as she saw Abby's mother and Iyawo Itsekiri laughing conspiratorially, for no reason she could see. Perhaps Oshia had behaved badly today, she worried to herself.
Aloud she asked Mama Abby, "How did it go then - the outing, I mean?"
"Oh, that," Mama Abby drawled, as if her question was unimportant. "That went very well, I think."
She suspected that her two friends were trying to hide something from her, some kind of surprise. Whatever it was, it must be something they thought would be good news for her, judging from the way both were smiling.
"Go in," gestured Iyawo Itsekiri, wedging her palm under he chin as usual and pointing with her other hand. "Your son is as pleased with himself as a king. Go in."
"Well, thank you very much. I will go in and feed this one. Then I'll come out and have a chat. Oh, look," she pointed as she approached the wide steps that led into their own veranda. "he has put on the lights all by hsimself. You must have really done something to him today."
But it was not just Oshia who was in the room. She could hear the twanging of the old guitar, which she had brought with her when they moved, just for sentimental reasons, not because she liked it much or because Nnaife was good at playing it at all. Now as she stood outside their door she could hear the sound of that very guitar and, judging by the music coming from it, whoever was playing it was far from an expert; what was more, Oshia was singing with the person. She looked back at the women who had helped her in the past months and she saw the message on their faces. They were happy for her. Nnaife was back and alive! he had polished up his guitar-playing a little, probably indulging himself in the art while working on the ship. It must be true!
Her heart raced with excitement as she walked in into their one-room apartment to say "nnua, welcome home," to her husband Nnaife, and to say to him, "Look, I had another son for you while you were away on the great seas."
