TRAPPED...Part 10.

"Bola, will you marry me?"

I was still shaking Bola's hand when without any warning, Dan went down on one knee and popped that life-altering question.

For ten whole seconds, the living room went pin-drop silent as all eyes were fixed on Bola. She was in shock. Her palms were clasped over her mouth as she looked on, dazed. Dan's voice punctured the silence.

"Bolarinwa, will you marry me?"

For a split second, I wished the past eight years had not happened. I felt like going back in time, to my village and embracing the young, shy, twenty year-old version of me. For a split second, I wished Dan's question would go unanswered. Bola's voice interrupted my thoughts.

"Yes! Yes, Dan. I will marry you." She was ecstatic. She hugged Dan and gave him a heart-warming kiss. She turned and gave me a hug and then pecked Uche and Vicky on their foreheads.

"Congratulations, Dan," I said, forcing a smile. "You two will make an amazing couple."

"Thanks, Stella,"he said, embracing me. "Thanks for everything."

As Abdul closed the gate behind us, I wondered what was wrong with myself. "What were you thinking, huh? That you can have your cake and still eat it?" I was amused by my actions and misplaced expectations. I had made my choices. I have to learn to live with them.

"Mummy, come let's bathe Baby." Vicky was tugging my wrapper as I prepared dinner. 

"You. You should get ready to bathe. But we have to eat first. Have you done your homework?"

She shook her head.

"Ok. We will do it after bathing Baby."

She smiled and ran out of the kitchen. 

'Bathing Baby' has become Vicky's most favourite activity. She will stand beside the big plastic basin as I bathed Uche, looking with glee as the water cascaded down the body of the infant. She will then smear her hands with soap and rub it repeatedly on Uche's tummy. The boy will giggle while she laughed. After bathing, she will stroke his soft hair while I apply oil on his skin. Afterwards, I undress her for her own bath with Uche lying in the cot. Dressed up in her pyjamas, I will tell her native folktales till she slept. She usually enjoyed the stories especially the ones about the tortoise. Most times, she falls asleep before the end of the story and I tuck her in. Occasionally, she will be wide awake, forcing me to tell another story. Sometimes, I run out of stories and have to 'invent' new ones with haphazard story lines.

"Your CD4 count is very high and other tests look good." I had gone for my routine medical check-up and to collect my antiretroviral drugs. The doctor was smiling as he gave me the good news.

"Your body is really kicking this virus," he continued, smiling. "Whatever it is you are doing, just keep it up." 

I thanked him and left. I headed towards the Dispensary to collect my drugs.

The HIV Clinic was situated in a separate newly-built bungalow, complete with consulting rooms, laboratories and dispensary. The doctors and nurses working there were exceptionally nice and empathetic. Prior to seeing a doctor, the nurses organise a teaching forum where HIV/AIDS is explained: modes of transmission, symptoms, testing and the importance of taking one's medications regularly. Questions are asked and clarifications are given.

"Your baby is so cute,"a young girl seated beside me, remarked. "How old is he?"

"Eight months,"I replied, smiling. "I am Stella."

"Habiba,"she said, tickling Uche's cheeks. The baby giggled.

She was wearing a multi-coloured hijab over a dress made from yellow native fabric.

"Your dress is amazing," I said. "Where did you have it made?"

"I made it in Kano before coming."

"I am a tailor," I said.

"Oh really? I have been looking for one since I came to Lagos. How good are you?"

We both laughed at the question.

"Very, very good. Believe me," I said. "How long have you been on the drugs?"

"All my life," she said, smiling.

"How come?" I asked, confused. "How old are you?"

"I am twenty-one,"she said. "I got the virus from my Mom when she was pregnant with me. Testing was rare those days and drugs were scarce. She passed on soon after I was born. My dad ensured I started getting the drugs early enough."

"Eeya! Pele," I said, in sympathy.

"For what?" she asked, laughing. "See, having this virus had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I just graduated with a First Class in Law from the University and currently doing my Law School Programme in Lagos. Living with HIV has made me appreciate life the more and make the best use of every given opportunity. So, for me, that is a huge blessing."

I was transfixed. Her wisdom and courage baffled me.

"Habiba Usman!" a voice called from the dispensary. She entered and soon emerged with her drugs. She handed me a designed envelope.

"My wedding invitation. Next month. Promise me you will come."

"Where?" I asked, enthusiastic.

"Here in Lagos," she said, smiling. "Let me have your number. I will check out your shop." We exchanged contacts.

"I will try and attend," I said, standing to go and pick my drugs. "You are an amazing lady."

I left the hospital in high spirits. Habiba's story literarily opened my eyes. There are no limitations. Everything is possible.

©Kelvin Alaneme, 2015.

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