NYU Black Renaissance Noire Fall 2015 Volume 15.2 | Page 11

Lambedusa

I swing the crying chick around my
head. Prince’s eyes are on my naked
body like the day the psychiatric doctor
pressed my breasts on night duty and
Matron walked in. “Doctor Igbinovia
are you aware Itohan is my daughter
so?” was all she said and Dr. Igbinovia
shrunk like a wool sweater dropped
in hot water. I hope Matron’s eyes are
on Prince now.
The bats are clouding the sky, all black
against the morning sun. The chick is
screaming loudly. I swing for the third
time, counting as if I am in primary
one and learning my 1-2-3 all over
again. At the seventh time, I let go the
chick and it cries all the way to the
middle of the river. I am dizzy and
tears are crowding my eyes like the day
my mother died.

Even when I kept yelling — “Prince,
Prince o! Abeg stop and talk to this
people na, help me tell them say na
school I dey go na!” He just kept
walking as if we did not sit in the plane
and ate that miserable concoction they
call food together.
That day I promised myself that if I
ever get to a phone I will call Matron
and tell her how Prince deserted me.
And also what happened in his house in
Benin. How he gave me brandy and
Fanta the day I went to collect my
traveling documents and took me to
his huge bedroom upstairs to teach me
how to treat white men right. Even
though I was crying he pinned me
down with one hand and covered my
mouth with the other: “Is this how you
will be behaving like a village girl in
Europe when you find a good oyinbo
boyfriend? Don’t go and disgrace me
there or do you want me to cancel your
journey and tell Matron you are not
ready for Italy yet!” And he kept pushing
himself inside me and breathing as if
he was pounding yam. Even the blade
Ohenlen used to cut my back at Ipoba
River was not as painful as his big thing
inside me. And how he teased me and
said he has “opened the door for me”
when he saw the blood stains on his
white bed sheet.

I am trying hard to sleep but Gina’s voice
is getting louder too. Everybody now
knows that Gina has gone completely
mad but the tall security officer still takes
her to the usual corner as if everything
was ok. We can hear Gina’s moans which
will soon end up in cry or song because
the security officers can be merciless.
But yesterday she came out laughing,
boasting and hitting open palms on her
hips: “Work don start for me. I be fine
girl, dem nor fit wait make I comot for
here before dem begin fuck me.” Her
laughter was like the cry of a dying dog.
Because I am the only one who speaks to
Gina, she directed her talk at me all the
time. “You better start learning how to
fuck white people, abi how you wan take
pay your debt wey you leave for Benin?”
I was no longer angry at her; I looked
at her with pity although I wondered
which debt she was referring to. Did her
madness tell her I borrowed money to
come to this place?
Since I came here I have not been able
to sleep well at night, it is one madness
or the other. My mother keeps coming
and asking me “Itohan where are
you going? Itohan I did not send you
this journey o! Itohan, where are
you.” Every night and I would wake
sweating. So I finally asked a security
man what was the name of this place
and he said it was Lambedusa. Where
in Jesus name is Lambedusa — how far
from Italy? The man started laughing
like a goat as he walked of the cell.
Lambedusa is where they treat us as
animals; is how I see this place. There
is one lady that looks like wooden
spoon who keeps coming to me with
stupid questions: “What is the name
of the madam? Who is sending you to
Italy? How much did you pay her? Did
you swear joojoo and how much did
you pay the joojoo man?” Half of the
time I don’t even understand what she
is talking about, with her joojoo mouth.

BLACK RENAISSANCE NOIRE

“Swing the chick round your head
seven times and give it to the river,”
Ohenlen instructs.

My mind is full, I can’t sleep. I don’t
understand why these security people
keep coming to me with questions
about my “Madam” in Nigeria, in such
angry way. I am not afraid of them
anymore, since the day I begged them
at the airport and they refused to let
me go. Why didn’t they stop Prince
too? Stupid Prince that Matron begged
to take care of me abandoned me in
the hands of immigration officers as
soon as he heard “Ma’am, we have
some problems with these documents.”

9

But it was Matron’s bus that Juliana’s
parents used in bringing her coffin
from the airport, when her body
was flown in from Italy after she was
stabbed to death by an unknown
person in a dark street. Matron has a
good heart, and I will never forget her.