TRAPPED...Part 4.

'Out of the depths I cry to You, O Lord...Lord hear my voice.' 

The silence in the empty church contrasted with the turbulence in my heart. Staring blankly at the crucifix, tears streaming down my cheeks, I could not find words to express the storm within. Only David's plea from the one hundred and thirtieth psalm did justice to my anguish: De profundis clamavi ad te Domine...

I had returned to Lagos three days back, a mess. The events of the previous two weeks had shaken the very foundations of my being. Since I returned, I have spent most of the time alone, trying to make sense of it all. I had helped a random person. A very nice, commendable thing to do. And yet, that singular act of kindness was the birth of evil. Is life really fair? And to think that there is a God up there who allowed it all to happen! I let out a howl. And broke into sobs. I looked at the crucifix again, this time seething with anger. 'Injustice!' I muttered, and rose to go. As I stormed out of the church, I checked the time. 9pm.

I decided to walk home. I had left Victory in the care of my younger sister as I sought to get a handle on myself. I had lost interest in everything. In life. A part of me did not see any reason to continue living. But I just could not contemplate the alternative. Jide was my past. But Victory is my future. 'Why fight a lost cause?' a voice asked. 'Because it is only a moron that goes down without a fight,' another voice replied. 

The road was busy. Conductors were reeling off their destinations like a song. I ran across to the other side of the road. My run was ill-timed and was greeted with blaring of horns and screeching of tyres. I could hear the angered drivers hurling expletives. 'Witch!  You wan die?' I paid little attention. I just continued walking. Passing a roundabout, I made a turn into a lonely street.

The street was dark and quiet, except for the din from a few generators some houses away. A few kiosks were still open. My house was at the end of the adjoining street. As I approached the end of the street, I could make out figures of about five persons gathered beside a big LAWMA refuse bin. They were speaking in hushed tones. One had a flashlight which he frequently pointed to a carton on the ground. I have almost passed them when I heard it. A baby's cry.

I approached them. There were four men and one woman. The one with the flashlight, probably in his mid-twenties, pointed it at the carton again. I followed the light.

Inside the carton, wrapped in a piece of cloth, was a baby. Teary-eyed the baby let out another cry. The lower part of the cloth covering the genitals was soaked wet. 'What happened? Where is the mother?' I asked, touching the woman. 'We no know o!' she began, in Pidgin English. ' I just dey close my kiosk when Olarenwaju ran to me saying that he saw one pikin around the refuse dump.'

'E be like say na the mama leave am for here,' said the boy with the flashlight. 'Na me first hear the baby cry na im I go call Mama Iyabo. A bouncing baby boy. Some people can be heartless!'he said shaking his head and walking away. 

The other men soon dispersed. I was left with Mama Iyabo. 'We need to take this child to the Police Station. This baby cannot stay here all night,' I told her. 'Police kè?' she asked sarcastically, clapping her hands. 'Abegi, I no want Police wahala o!' she said, taking her leave. 'Please Madam, since your house is close, take in the baby for the night. Maybe the mother will come for her baby in the morning,' I pleaded. Mama Iyabo glared at me from head to toe. 'You wan make my husband kill me,abi? Me I get eight children. Eight! And we dey stay for one room.' With that, she hurried off in the direction of her kiosk. I was left alone with the baby.

A gust of cold wind swept past me. I suddenly felt a crude sense of loneliness. I bent down and took a closer look. The baby was quiet, as if aware of his predicament. I proceeded to unwrap the wet cloth. His body was hot. As I touched him, he began to cry. 'Shhhhh!' I said, in a bid to quieten him down. Your mother will soon come. I lifted the carton. Supporting it under my left arm, I went into the adjacent compond. 

It was a bungalow with many rooms. I knocked on the first door. A stern-looking woman answered. 'Kilode? Eh? Why you dey disturb person by this time of the night?' 'Madam no vex...'I began, searching for the right words. 'I found this child by the refuse dump and I wanted to know if you had any idea on who the mother is...' 'Hmmm,' the woman said, eyeing the carton suspiciously. Her tone suddenly changed. 'Oloshi! I resemble mumu for your eye, abi? Abegi, Gerrrout!'she said, slamming the door to my face. I stood there, stunned. 'Kafayat, who was that?'I heard a man's voice ask her on the inside. 'Na one mad woman wey carry one pikin dey waka about...' I left the compound in a hurry.

I went straight to my compound. I knocked at the Caretaker's flat. His son, Tunde, answered the door. 'I did not know you were back,'Mama Tunde said after I was seated,all the while looking curiously at the carton. 'I came back three days ago,' I said, forcing a smile. 'Jide is dead,' I continued, stopping short of bursting into tears. 'Eyaa! Pele...'she said, hugging me.'Aani riru e mo,'she continued, snapping her fingers. 'No more deaths!' 'Amen,'I responded. 'Whose pikin be that?'She was pointing to the carton. 'Hmmm,'I sighed. 'I found this baby near the refuse dump at the end of Olaitan street. Abandoned in the cold. Which mother on earth will do that?' I asked, bringing out the baby from the carton. 

The child started crying. He was light-skinned with jet-black curly hair. The umblical stump was still there, tied at the end with a dirty thread. He could not have been more than a week old. His body was still hot. 'Tunde, get me a clean wrapper,'Mama Tunde called out. 'And check the First Aid box for liquid Paracetamol,'she added. Tunde returned with the items. We cleaned up the baby and gave him the liquid drug. Mama Tunde handed the baby over to me. 'We will take him to the police station in the morning. Clean the navel with methylated spirit and cotton wool. And feed the baby.' 'Thank you, Ma,'I said rising. 'Goodnight.'

I was worn-out when I got to my flat. I prepared some milk for the baby which he gulped down hungrily. I brought out Victory's old cot and laid the baby inside. I changed into my pink pyjamas but was too tired to button it. I sleep-walked to my bed. And dozed off.

I saw many people in my room. I tried to make out their faces but they were strange. Then I saw the cot and I remembered. The baby! I ran to the cot. It was empty. 'Where is the baby?' I asked, facing them. They did not seem to hear me. Then I heard a familiar voice and turned. It was Mama Tunde. She was carrying the baby. She did not seem to notice me. I spoke to her but she did not respond. The door opened. Nkechi entered with Victory. 'Vikky Baby!' I beamed, going to hug her. But a force held me back. And Vikky looked past me. Nkechi spoke up,'The Police will be hear any minute. When they are done, we can remove the body.' I noticed they were all looking at the bed. I turned to look. And I froze in horror. Clad in an unbuttoned pyjamas, I was lying there.