The Dream by Akanimo Uwan Akpan  

 

Fiction (Short Story)

 

 

 

Ekaette was in hard labor in the lush lonely forest of her village, Ikot Ndise. She sat with legs wide astride on a heap of fresh banana leaves under the watchful eyes of two elderly midwives who attended to her. They all consoled her whenever she cried out in agony while massaging her sore back with a wet rag. One handed her a calabash of black herbal liquid prepared from the bark of a tree, urging her to drink it to "quicken her labor." Ekaette gulped it in desperation and wailed again as the contraction hit her. She was still wailing louder and louder while pushing with all her might until she felt a weight slid past her body.

 

"It is a girl," the midwives announced in encouragement. 

 

Ekaette gazed with pride at her new born daughter looking puffy in her blood streaked body. The pain vanished. A surge of maternal love so overwhelming consumed her when she was placed in her hands that this time, she began shedding tears of joy. One of the midwives cleaned her up then cut down fresh plantain leaves for her to lie down and discarded the bloodied one. The other midwife got back the baby and cleaned her up. She then held the baby face down and slapped her shriveled buttocks several times. A look of horror overshadowed her wrinkled face.

 

"Mbom mi" she cried out while shaking the baby, "she is no longer breathing!"

 

Ekaette gave out a heartrending cry so loud it startled the still forest like an explosion.

 

She woke up with a start. Her lips moved, uttering incoherent words, her heartbeat pounded like she had finished a marathon, and her eyes were wet with tears. She wiped her eyes and interlaced her fingers together over her baby bump, while her brain worked machine-like to interpret the nightmare. 

 

Immersed in her melancholy, she did not notice the bedroom door open, then closed or a looming shadow hovering over her. A gentle touch then roused her. She looked up to see her husband, Stanley, clad in his white bathrobe, and a white towel slung around his neck. Having finished his morning bath, he was getting ready to leave for work at the Pan-African Bank.

 

"Don't you have an appointment this morning," he asked, surprised to see her still in bed. He toweled his wet hair and loosened the strings of his bathrobe, tossing it inside a nearby hamper. Lavender scent filled their bedroom. 

 

Ekaette sighed as she rose up from their bed and sat at its edge, holding her face in her hands. 

 

"Is everything okay," Stanley asked, worried when he saw her gloomy looks. It was unlike her to be moping around. Normally, she would be chirpy, belting out Gospel hymns in excitement as she prepared for the day. He sat on their bed and wiped her eyes. 

 

"What is the matter?"

 

"I had a terrible dream," she said, wincing as she narrated the nightmare to him. 

 

"Ima-Ima," he addressed her endearingly, patting her back in comfort. "There is no cause for alarm. The dream is meaningless. We are not having our baby in some forsaken forest but at a hospital. Cheer up, a positive mind yields a happy result." 

 

"I wish it were so," Ekaette said sadly, "but I have this weird feeling that this dream is an omen. Also my eyelids won't stop twitching." She gave a heavy sigh.

 

Stanley shook his head. "It is all in your mind because you have been so focused on the pregnancy. Come, get ready to see the doctor." 

 

He tried to lift her up but she resisted. Instead she pored over the dream and then briefly thought of Stanley's remarks. It was true she was so heavily invested in this pregnancy that it became an obsession. 

 

She recorded every single detail of her pregnancy in a journal. A calendar that hung on the pink walls of their bedroom was also filled with details she had inscribed on. She had read and reread "An Encyclopedia of Pregnancy" till the spine broke. But she was unwilling to take any risk to her pregnancy. This was the first time she had carried a pregnancy close to a full term after suffering seven miscarriages in the last ten years of her union.

 

But his reassurances, "Ima-Ima, don't stress yourself, it is just a meaningless dream, we will have this baby at the appointed time so..." fell on deaf ears. Rather, she told him to leave for work. "I will figure this out," she said, though she did not believe it. 

 

Stanley gave her a hug and left reluctantly. He disappeared into their closet and reappeared in his charcoal pinstripe suit and Rolex wristwatch. He went to his drawer and sprayed One Man Show cologne on his suit. Before leaving their bedroom, he stroked her head with encouraging words to boost her spirits, "Everything will be fine ima-ima." He kissed her and departed carrying his leather briefcase to the dining room for breakfast.

 

Seated at the far end of their glass dining table was their six year old adopted son, Kokoete. He was relishing his breakfast of fried ripe plantains and fried egg while periodically sipping a cup of hot ovaltine beverage. A bib hung loosely around his neck to prevent him from soiling his immaculate white and blue school uniform of All Saints Nursery School where he was in first grade. 

 

Stanley helped himself to a flask of Nescafe coffee prepared by their maid, Akon. He took a sip of it from the ornate tea cup and glanced absentmindedly at the headline news in The Mirror Newspaper, 

 

"TWO BROTHERS FIGHT OVER FATHER'S CHIEFTAINCY STOOL IN THE VILLAGE OF IKOT AFIA."

 

But his mind was distracted by his wife's discomfort from her nightmare

 

"Dad, why didn't you put milk and sugar in your coffee," Kokoete said in surprise. Stanley looked up to see their son staring at him perplexed. Kokoete was still observing him until he deposited two cubes of sugar in his cup of coffee and a spoonful of Peak powdered milk. Then he became relaxed and resumed eating. 

 

"Such a caring boy," he muttered warmly.

 

Kokoete resumed eating with gusto. When nearly done, he set aside his silverware and played a drawing game in his leftover tomato stew. He drew circles with his fingertips, drew a line and giggled as he licked his finger. Akon walked in from the kitchen with his lunch box.

 

"What are you doing," she scolded him.

 

"Leave it!" he protested when she wanted to pick up his plate. "I haven't finished eating."  

 

"What's going on?" Stanley asked looking up from the newspaper.

 

"I haven't finished eating and she wants to take my plate away," Kokoete complained.

 

"You were drawing lines in the stew," Akon reproached him.

 

"Leave him alone Akon," Stanley said. "Finish eating so we won't be late Kokoete."

 

Akon grumbled under her breath on her way to the kitchen. Kokoete stuck his tongue at her and resumed playing his game. He drew a circle of a smiley face on his plate of stew continuously until he grew bored, then shoved it aside.

 

"Dad, please will you buy me some malted biscuits when you come back," he asked in a low pleading voice.

 

"I will," his father said, nodding his head as he flipped over to the next page of the paper.  

 

"Thank you, Dad." He gave a wide smile and started swinging his legs under the table in excitement.

 

"Also some toffees and chewing gum," he begged him, again reverting to the same pleading tone.

 

Stanley assented with a slow nod.

 

"I will get it," Kokoete said and made a quick dash to the living room.