Page 35 of Cursed Daughters
“Ebun!” cried Kemi.
Ebun did not respond. She walked off, leaving the little pieces of paper in a pile on the floor.
IV
It was a couple of months later and well past midnight, but Ebun was awake and preparing for an exam that would have her promoted to a chartered accountant and hopefully boost her salary. Her current pay just wasn’t cutting it. Eniiyi was growing so fast and school fees were at an all-time high. It was helpful that she didn’t have to pay rent, but she was basically living hand to mouth.
The house was silent. And the generator had broken down, so she was reading by candlelight. These many nights of studying by flame had begun to affect her eyesight.
She heard the sound of a door opening, and stopped reading to listen. Eniiyi’s room was next to hers, but she couldn’t imagine why her daughter would be up at that time of night. Eniiyi wasn’t fond of the dark and she wasn’t allowed to light a candle herself. If she woke up and was afraid, Ebun had told her to close her eyes and imagine all the best things in the world; which for Eniiyi constituted dolls, ice cream, bangles and puppies.
Ebun opened her bedroom door and looked out, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Yes, Eniiyi’s door was open, and there was her four-year-old child walking down the corridor in her pyjamas. And following her, the pointlessly large dog.
“Eniiyi, go back to your bed.”
There was no response. She called her daughter’s name twice more, a little louder, but the girl did not answer, and she did not stop walking. She was about to turn the corner and then she would be heading down the stairs. Ebun grabbed her candle and chased afterher. She easily caught up with her and stood in front of her, blocking her path. That was when she realised Eniiyi was still asleep. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slack. Ebun hesitated for a moment, afraid.
She said her daughter’s name again, then she gently shook her until Eniiyi opened her eyes. She looked startled.
“Mummy?”
“It’s okay. You were sleepwalking.”
“Sleep working?”
“Walking. It’s when you get out of bed but you are still sleeping, so you don’t know you got out of bed.”
Eniiyi blinked. She didn’t really understand, and how could she? Ebun barely understood herself. She had heard of people sleepwalking but had never seen it herself. It was far creepier than she had imagined; her daughter had looked like someone possessed. Ebun carried her back to bed.
But it became a regular occurrence, and there was no pattern to it. They tried making sure Eniiyi didn’t eat past seven; then they tried giving her warm milk at bedtime. They had her sing songs of praise each night, then switched to having her run round the compound to tire herself out. Of course, Aunty Bunmi had suggested consulting Mama G, but Ebun had ended that conversation swiftly. Still, every few nights, Eniiyi would sit up, climb out of bed, open her door and walk down the corridor, which was usually when Ebun intercepted her.
“Maybe you should follow her.”
“Why?”
“See where she is going na.”
Ebun wasn’t sure whether to take her mother’s advice, but she was at a loss for what else to do. So the next time her daughter rose wordlessly from her bed, she followed her, candle in hand, down the stairs, through the hallway to the kitchen and out the door to the iroko tree at the centre of the courtyard. She watched as Eniiyi walked over to the tree, sat down on one of its large exposed roots and stared into the void. Ebun felt her heart plummet.
PART V
Monife
(1994–1995)
I
They were starving, but it was too hot to cook. Mo had used her last bit of energy to pour water into a bowl for Sango, who was lying on the ground beside her with his tongue hanging out; she didn’t even have any left to fan herself.
There were too many of them in there sucking up the air—Ebun across the room from her in a spaghetti top and baggy jeans, Tolu and his uncombed hair seated in front of the TV with Oba, who was dressed as though he was heading for a job interview in a light blue shirt and silver cufflinks. Dele was there trying to get her attention, and Golden Boy, whohadher attention, was presently playing with her foot whilst pretending to be interested in what was on the screen. If Oba and Dele went home, and Tolu and Ebun went…elsewhere, there would be more room to breathe.
“Ebun should go and make food. She is the youngest,” Tolu suggested without peeling his eyes from the screen.
“How is that fair? You people are my ?`gb?´ns. You should be taking care of me.”
“She isn’t wrong, Tolu,” added Golden Boy. Ebun ignored his support. For some reason, she seemed to find his presence distasteful.
“Fine, let’s play for it. Rock, paper, scissors. Loser makes food.”
