Let The Cat Out Of The Bag.

about 1 month ago

It was one of those quiet Sunday evenings on Aderigbigbe Street, in the megacity of Lagos—Africa's largest city—due to its massive population and economic activities. The sun shone lazily behind the coconut trees that lined our compound, thereby projecting long shadows on the already cracked cement floor. The air was cool and inviting, the kind where time itself seemed to stretch out like a sleepy cat, and the only sounds were the distant voices of our neighbors and the rhythmic chanting of their children in the distance.

I was thirteen and a half years old then; in just a few more months, I would be fourteen. I was at least old enough to surely keep a secret, but definitely not wise enough to know when to actually keep my mouth completely shut.

My cousin, Chidi, came to spend the weekend with us from Abuja. He is my favorite cousin, and we relate pretty well. The spark of communication ignites immediately when we start talking. There are a lot of things I needed to tell him, and there are a lot of things he needed to tell me. Chidi is a year older than me, and he is taller too. He has an overriding confidence that cames from growing up in Abuja, the capital city. His clothes are always neater, his English is more polished and fluent, and what's more, his story telling is more dramatic, filled with gestures. I both admire and envied him.

That evening, we were sitting excitedly under the big almond tree in front of our house, waiting for my mother's boiled corn. As we were still waiting, we decided to sing a few songs with the rhyming tunes from Chidi's guitar, Chidi is a lover of music, just like I am. We could perceive the aroma of the boiled corn, accompanied by the smell of the kerosene from the stove in our kitchen. Suddenly, the corn was ready. My mother served it with Ube(a native pear). The cool breeze tickled our legs as we sat on the huge tree, eating our delicious corn and sharing all the juicy gossips we have kept for each other at every bite, like miniature aunties, so to speak.

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Chidi leaned closer to where I was seated. lowered his voice, and whispered, "Guess what?"

"You know I don't like suspense; I am terrible at guessing. Just spill the beans already" I pleaded in curiosity.

"Alright! Alright! Alright! You lazy bone," he exclaimed quietly, yielding but disappointed.

"Whatever, just spill already," I shrugged, threwing my hands backward with a dismissive face.

"Aunty Oluchi is pregnant," he said quickly while looking around.

"What?" I exclaimed quietly while holding my mouth and blinking.

"Are you sure? How did you find out?" I asked in facination.

"I overheard her talking to Uncle Amos on the phone. She said she was already two months gone," he blurted out, wide-eyed.

My jaw immediately dropped. Aunty Oluchi was my mum's youngest sister; she was barely out of university at the time, what's more, she was not married yet, and in our strictly traditional family, this kind of news was not only sordid and startling—It was definitely unseemly and outrageous.

"But she is not married," I whispered, looking around to see if anyone was approaching or listening nearby.

"Exactly. That is the more serious reason no one knows. You can't tell anyone. Not even a tiny fragment of information should you let out. You have to promise me."

"I crossed my heart," I nodded solemnly. Placing my two hands across my chest.

"Pinky promise?" he pleaded to confirm my pledge, stretching out his pinky finger to link with mine.

"Pinky promise, promise," I confirmed, still linking my finger with his.

And I truly meant it. I really do.

Fast forward three days. It was Wednesday afternoon, and I was back at school. During our lunchtime, I sat with my friends Amaka, Ekaete and Shade, under the mango tree near the school assembly ground. While eating the snacks we bought from the tuck shop lady, Ekaete suddenly showed us in secret the new phone her parents just gave her, flipping through different features of the phone and hiding it so it would not be seized, while also gisting about the new girl in our class who is bragging about having a cousin living in America and a sister in Canada.

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"I do not believe her," Amaka said, licking the chocolate off her fingers in the middle of the biscuit. "Some people just like to brag" she added, frowning.

"Me too," I said with a shrug. " Besides, if anyone should be bragging, it should be Chidi. He told me something really cool and huge."

Amaka's eyes lit up. "Really?"

Ekaete and Shade leaned closer towards Amaka and me to hear the cool, huge gist.

"Yes" My eyes widened, but I felt slightly hesitant for a second.

"You girls can not tell anybody, o," I warned.

"We swear we would not, they said reassuring me.

And then, just like a torrential flood, over pouring and unstoppable, I let the cat out of the bag.

"Aunty Oluchi is pregnant."

Immediately, Amaka and Shade gasped so loudly that I looked around to be sure no teachers or students were nearby. While Ekaete just held her two cheeks keeping her mouth wide open in disbelief.
"Ah! Are you serious?" Amaka asked curiously.

"But she's not married," Shade added.

"I know, right? that's why it must be kept a secret. Remember, girls, it's a serious situation; nobody must hear of it. Pinky promise?" I warned.

"Pinky promise," they all reechoed in unison

"How old is it now?" Ekaete cut the sudden silence.

"She is two months gone." I clarified.

Suddenly, I felt a weird mix of guilt and pride. I'd just shared a forbidden truth. Somehow, that made me feel kind of important in a way—like I was in possession of classified information. But I was not happy, though.

That should have been the end of it.

However, by friday, the news had spread like wildfire.

I immediately noticed the weird look from another classmates, the comments and murmuring of other students passing by. By the time I got home the damage was already done.

As soon as I got home, I gently pushed the door open, as if I was expecting a smooth slap from my mum or from Aunty Oluchi. Chidi was sitting on the sofa, crying, and beside him was Aunty Oluchi with an unreadable expression.

My stomach dropped.

"Come here this minute!" my mother called to me in raging anger. "Mrs. Ekureku, where did you hear that Oluchi is pregnant, eh?"

"I froze. "I...I didn't—" I stuttered.

"Don't lie," Chidi interrupted me. "You told someone. You promised you would not!"

I immediately turned to my mum, making sure she had not gone into the kitchen to get turning garri to lash me. Hopefully, she was still standing by my side. I was really panicking at that moment. " It was a mistake! I sincerely didn't mean to tell anybody. I only told my closest friends, and they—"

My mum immediately calmed the situation. "Enough! That's how rumors begin, and in the process, lives are ruined."

"I am so sorry," I whispered, in tears. "I really am."

However, my apology could not turn back the hands of time—It could not undo the terrible mess that I had made. Aunty Oluchi later left for the village to visit grandma for peace and quiet. I didn't see her again for months.

The shame I felt was intense; for days, I couldn't eat well, I was miserable. I avoided everyone at school, afraid that they might bring it up to mock me. I even stopped sitting with Amaka, Ekaete and Shade until things settled down.

I had learned painfully that secret are called secret for the purposes of confidentiality, kept safely and quietly because they are fragile. Secrets are not toys to be played with.

After a few years, I met Aunty Oluchi at a wedding. She was looking very beautiful and radiant in her black attire, with her little boy standing at her side. She smiled kindly at me as we both walk towards each other; her smile was not the same as from childhood.

"Look at you," she said calmly, hugging me. "All grown up.You are now a big girl, o."

I smiled, the old guilt still persisting in my heart. "I am sorry, Aunty Oluchi," I said, the words just making their way out of my mouth before I could actually stop them.

She drew me closer, hugged me again, and whispered, "it's in the past now; we all make mistakes."

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