The well was still there by the gate, forever makeshift, with scraps of zinc that Uncle Samuel had found at a nearby construction site sixteen years ago still at its mouth. Shekinah never forgot how often she had almost fallen in, and Mama would come rushing, pulling her into her arms before repeatedly smacking her till she cried, as if that would release the fear of losing another child. Shekinah vividly recalled how she would ride her bicycle to the envy of the neighbor's girls who would run behind her, imitating the zoom zoom sound of her father's car.
Why she had never come home all these years, who did not know? Who did not know that Pastor Eze's daughter was running around with a big belly in the big city, selling food in the market? Shekinah had heard that her parents fell ill because of this but she did not dare to come back. Then again, it was less of a choice than one thought. Bayo would have struck her with another punch if she had requested to go see them. He would say that she was the cause of his misfortune, that she was the reason his life was going downhill. Shekinah wouldn't dare to reply to those words because they seemed valid. Her in-laws hated her to death because of this. It had been twelve years since the first day that she met Bayo. He was from southwest Nigeria, farther than she had ever been to, and was preparing to sit for the senior certificate exam. Bayo was handsome and lanky, with a waist that made one sit up straight. And she had run with him, in love, and away from the exam. So, it was okay to hate her, the bitch who pushed him to his demise so that he could only work as a driver for others that he was better than. No one knew for sure if he was better than anybody. She didn't believe he would have passed that exam. If he were as diligent as he claimed, the bastard wouldn't have been messing up with the principal's daughter and gotten expelled. What crazy senior certificate exam was that? But Shekinah never pointed out his lies all these years. Why? It was because the bastard had given her three daughters that had a face exactly like his.
Shekinah was resentful. She knew that it was improper to have those thoughts, that these were the reasons why Papa constantly quarreled with her when she was younger. He said that she was too pedantic and had a stubborn mind. According to him, she should roll with the times like the zoom zoom of his car. But she didn't want to. It was hard to where she came from. Whenever she looked at her daughters, she hated that she didn't have a son and wanted to beat them hard and starve them that day – and she did, once. Bayo had come back to find his three children crying with bruises on their hands. He had beaten her heavily that night till her ears rang, and her mother-in-law had come with a cab to pick up the three girls. The last time she had heard, the three money-losing goods were going to school, and she had gone to check, only to have her eyes straight at their fancy-looking uniform. Shekinah had gone back home to quarrel with Bayo, who was smoking a pipe in the courtyard. She had asked him why she spent money on the three bastards when they could have saved all the money for their son, her hands caressing her bump. Her husband looked at her with disgust for the first time in years. He asked if she was crazy and why her thoughts were too stupid. Who preferred sons to daughters now? That the country was opening up to new ideas and that she should open her eyes! And then he said that she wanted to divorce her. Shekinah had fainted as soon as she heard those words, and she could only hear her husband running over to her, yelling her name.