The Dreams Of My Mother – Episode 8

Episode 8

Things never remained the same for the Imam’s family. When he heard that his daughter had died a horrible death, he felt the weight of how his lack of understanding had pushed his daughter to her death. He began to remember Khadijat for what she was before the whole pregnancy saga. She was a loving and caring daughter, the part he should have remembered all along, and held on to, despite the shame he felt from her pregnancy. But now, it was a little too late for him to be remorseful. Nobody cared about his remorse, not even his wife, Khadijat’s mother, who had packed out of his house. His sons and everyone blamed him for his daughter’s death. He blamed himself too. The mosque that he was so concerned about began to abhor him. He stayed away from prayers, because people no longer talked about his daughter’s pregnancy, but about his cruelty that drove his daughter to an early grave.

However, Khadijat did not die. Whether it was the prayers of the people praying for her, or it was sheer luck, Khadijat woke up from coma. But she did not remember anything about herself. Khadijat had lost her memories. Her mind was like a Tabula rasa, blank like the mind of a child.

Khadijat: “Where am I?” she asked, as she looked around her with fear in her eyes. Doctor: “You are in a hospital, you have been in an accident, and you are lucky to be alive. Is there somebody we can call for you?” he asked and watched Khadijat hold her head like she was feeling pain in her head.

Khadijat: “Doctor, why do I feel like… doctor, I cannot remember anything” she said in alarm. The doctor switched on a pen torch and pointed it into her eyes. Doctor: “Young lady, you had a concussion in the head, we are hoping that with time it will reduce, and you would get your memories back” he said.

But, days turned into weeks and weeks into months, and Khadijat did not recover her memories. Nobody knew her name, and where she came from. Nobody knew that her family thought her dead and had given up on her, a burial had even been conducted for her according to the ways of Islam. Madam Lagos took her in and cared for her like she was her own daughter, for she had once been in her shoes when she was pregnant with her son, she had been lucky that the father stood up for her and married her. However, Khadijat had a turbulent pregnancy, she was in and out of the hospital. The doctors said she had preeclampsia, and had to stay in the hospital until her delivery date.

Her condition was so bad that she had become bloated. Every part of her body from her hands, to her legs to her face and eyes were swollen like there was water under her skin. She looked horrific.

Madam Lagos: “Doctor, she is still a young girl, why is she going through so many complications?” she asked. She was so scared of losing the poor girl. In the few months that Khadijat had stayed with her, she has seen how sweet she was, and she made her wish that she had given birth to a daughter.

Doctor: “She seems to have been through a lot. You say she was wearing a hijab

when you found her?”

Madam Lagos: “Yes doctor”

Doctor: “I don’t see any ring mark on her fingers, and she is probably not more than 17 or 18. It could only mean that her Muslim family did not accept the pregnancy. I can only imagine what she has been through.” He said thoughtfully, with a faraway look in his eyes. “I think the amnesia is not because of the head trauma she suffered from the accident, I think her subconscious wanted to forget something really bad” he concluded.

Madam Lagos: “Oh that poor child. Are you saying she might never regain her memories?” she asked anxiously.

Doctor: “I have a psychiatrist I can recommend you to, she is really good. She can help the girl get through the block in her memories. But of course that is after her delivery and recovery”

When Khadijat went into labour, after months in the hospital, she was told to try and have a va.ginal birth. But after hours in labour, her blood pressure was through the roof, and it became imperative for her to have a caesarian birth, to save her life and that of her child.

Khadijat: “Mother, can I call you mother?” she asked holding the hand of Madam Lagos, as she was being wheeled to the theatre.

Madam Lagos: “Yes my child, you have been like a daughter to me” she said as tears gathered in her eyes.

Khadijat: “I only have one wish, that if I don’t make it out of the theatre…” she started to say but Madam Lagos interrupted her.

Madam Lagos: “Don’t talk that way my child, you are going to come back” Khadijat: “Mother, let me talk, I know what I am saying. Please, tell my child, that he or she has to fulfill the dreams that I could not fulfill” she said, using the last strength she had to bring out the words.

Madam Lagos: “Dreams? Have you regained your memories?” she asked, anxiously.

Khadijat: “Yes mother, I am at death’s door, and I remember who I am. I wanted to be a medical doctor, I got admission to study medicine, but I got pregnant and brought shame to my family. My father wanted to kill me, and now he is going to

get his wish. Take care of my child, make sure he fulfills all my dreams, for the curtain has fallen for me, and my time on the stage is ended. I pass the baton to him, help him, this is the cry of a dying soul” she said.

Madam Lagos was dumbfounded, she held her chest and cried for the daughter that fate had brought to her, but death was going to take away. She made a promise to herself, that she would make sure that the child would have only the best and fulfill all its mother’s dreams.

In the theater, the doctors did all they could to save mother and child, but only the child was saved. A baby boy, squealing his lungs out, was brought out of her womb, but Khadijat’s soul had long left her body.

Question: Will the child be able to fulfill his mother’s dream, what does fate have in store for the newborn?

To be continued