1
“Aminat talks to herself.”
“Why is she always sitting in the dark?”
“There’s something not quite right with Aminat.”
Maybe if you asked me instead of whispering amongst yourselves, you would have gotten your answers.
I bit down on the lid of my pen, staring at the scrawled scribblings in my journal. The small book sat on my desk, dog-eared, the cover cracked and browned with age, like old skin.
“Aminat!” My aunt’s voice rang from the living room.
“Maaaaaa,” I groaned, dragging out the syllables like a plea. I didn’t want to get up, my thoughts were still gathering like clouds before a storm. I sighed, closed the journal, and stood up.
The ceiling fan in the living room creaked and whirred above us, a lazy old machine doing the bare minimum. On the TV, a woman screamed at her maid on Africa Magic, drowning out everything else, whilst from the kitchen, the soft, plain aroma of yams and spicy tang of boiling pepper wafted into the room.
My aunt sat on the couch, plaiting my niece’s hair into tight cornrows. Her fingers moved with the rhythm of someone who had done it a thousand times, never once looking down, her eyes were glued to the television.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her gaze still fixed on the screen.
“Nothing, ma,” I replied quickly, subtly folding my ink-stained hands behind my back.
“Ehn, go and buy one crate of eggs, take the money on the table.”
I stepped toward the table, but as I reached for the cash, her voice stopped me.
“Ahn ah, what happened to your wrists?”
Her eyes were finally on me. I snatched the money and tugged down my sleeve. “It’s old. I grazed it against the wall when I fell,” I replied, the words a false tingle in my throat.
She looked at me in a sceptical manner but only for a second, then she turned back to the hair she was plaiting.
“Oya, go and buy what I told you but first, check on the yam in the kitchen.”
I nodded and walked away, her sudden observation creating a swirling storm in the pit of my stomach.
2
The crate of eggs balanced carefully on my hands as I walked the dusty road back home. A motorcycle sped past, nearly flattening a hen that squawked and flapped its wings like it was croaking praises to God for being spared as a group of children played tic-tac-toe nearby.
For a moment, I remembered myself at that age, barefoot, full of giggles, doodling in the sand with a stick. That was before the gas blast, before the fire took my mother, before the cancer snatched my father.
“Aminat!”
I turned towards the voice, squinting against the sun, but didn’t see anyone.
“Over here!”
I looked around again and saw her, Fadila. My classmate from secondary school, whom I hadn’t seen in three years since graduation.
Fadila had gotten into the university to study law, and I was still waiting for admission. Funny how things turned out. Back in school, I was at the top of our class, and she barely scraped through, so what went wrong?
“Oh my Lord, it’s been so long!” she purred, hurrying over to draw me into a hug as I forced a smile. She had the nice scent of vanilla musk, and the faux-gemstones on her white abaya glistened under the scorching sun. I folded under her gaze, suddenly too aware of my faded bubu gown and the hijab on my head that was more grey than black.
“How’s school?” I asked, hoping to steer the attention away from me.
“Oh, school is fine… stressful, but fine,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “Law is hard o, Aminat. But I’m trying, I’m actually going for my internship this holiday. And yes, I got an award during our annual dinner and award night. So yeah, it’s stressful… but worth it.”
I nodded, lips pressed into a thin smile.
“What about you? You’re still awaiting admission into the University?”
I nodded slowly, a plastic smile on my face.
“Oh my,” she gasped. “So that means you wrote JAMB again this year? What was your score?”
I blinked at her. Was she really asking that? But then again, Fadila had always been the same, tone-deaf and insensitive.
“If you don’t want to say, it’s fine. I guess it was that low sha. No wonder you haven’t gotten in, I’m so sorry about that,” she added, batting her lashes like it was sympathy.
“It wasn’t low,” I said quickly, not sure why I felt the need to defend myself. “Last year, I got 295.”
“Oh really? What about this year then? I mean, admission has already started and you’re still waiting… What course do you want to study?”
I exhaled unevenly, “Law,” I said through gritted teeth. “This year I scored 272.”
She gasped again, if I didn’t know her, I wouldn’t have been able tell if it was sincere or not.
“Wow… You’ve been getting excellent scores, and I remember your WAEC results too, our teachers just wouldn’t stop praising you. Meanwhile…” she lowered her voice and scoffed, “I didn’t even get close to that, and I’m in the university now. God bless my dad”. She paused, her eyes flicking to the crate of eggs in my hands, “and you’re here… buying eggs. It’s sad, this country is just a mess.”
For half a second, I imagined smashing the eggs on her head, the satisfying crack, the silence and then the scream that would follow.
But I shook the thought away, “I have to get going,” I said tightly. “You’re on holiday, right? Enjoy your holiday, It was good seeing you.” I turned and began to walk, careful not to drop the eggs as my hands shook tightly.
Regretfully, I turned back as she waved cheerfully, ignoring her, I walked away.
3
The sun was still hot on my back as I reached the front door. I shifted the crate of eggs in my hands, trying to balance it while reaching for the handle of the front door
Then I heard my Aunts’ voice, “I don’t know what is wrong with that girl!” she snapped into the phone. “She acts like an insane person, like someone spiritually hexed. I’m telling you, she needs deliverance.”
My heart sank, and I stood still.
“Ehn, wooo, you are right. I must take her for deliverance. She’s just… strange. Only an imbecile will act the way she does,” she said, laughing along with the person on the other end.
“I don’t know why my sister had to die and leave me with such a burden,” she sighed. “I honestly don’t know what to do with her ooo”.
The words struck like stones, each one heavier than the last, and my vision blurred as tears welled up. I blinked rapidly, then wiped them away with the sleeve of my gown.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. It wasn’t the first time that I overheard enough to memorise the rhythm of her disappointment, the casual gossip she let slip when she thought I wasn’t listening.
And yet, somehow, it still stung.
I waited, standing in silence by the door until I heard the click of the call ending. I let a few minutes pass. Then, as though I had heard nothing, I pushed the door open.
4
Three Years Ago
The smell of mixed tea, Milo and Peak milk wafted through the air as I buttoned my uniform shirt, getting ready for school.
“Aminat, when you come back, boil rice, you hear?” my mother said, counting some wads of cash before stashing them into her wallet.
I nodded, biting into a slice of bread. “Yes, mummy.”
“You will finish your exam by 2 p.m., right?”
I nodded again.
“Good. Once you get back, boil the rice and put it inside the cooler. We need to take it to your grandmother. The doctor said her health is worsening, and she must eat on time. Warm the stew and fry plantain too.”
“Okay, I’ve heard.” I gulped down my tea quickly, wiping my mouth and clearing the dining table.
“Did you switch off the gas cooker?” she asked, already tying her scarf.
I was getting late. I nodded hurriedly. “Yes”.
“You disconnected it from the cylinder itself? You know the switch is faulty”.
Frustrated and already halfway out the door, I sighed. “Yes, yes. I’ve done everything,” I called out, running.
But as I stepped out of the compound, the doubt slithered in.
Abi… did I disconnect it?
I’m already late…. I’ll check it when I get back.
3:30 p.m.
“We are so sorry for the delay,” the principal announced as we wrapped up the theory section of the English WASSCE paper. “We apologise for the inconvenience.”
I exhaled out of exhaustion.
“Aminat”, my friend Kehinde said, “let’s go to that new super mart they just opened.”
I shook my head, already rising from my seat. “I can’t. My mum asked me to handle something, because of the exam delay, I haven’t done it yet.”
“Just call her, explain to her why…”
“I forgot my phone at home this morning.” I was already moving. “She will be mad at me, so I need to get home on time.”
It was her turn to cook for Grandma, who was in the hospital, out of all her siblings. She had told me to help out because she had errands to run.
4:10 p.m.
The bike screeched to a halt in front of our house. I got off, paid the rider and froze in my steps.
Thick black smoke painted the sky, curling violently into the air. I had seen it from afar but prayed that it was not our house.
A crowd was gathered at the front of my house, and an ambulance was parked outside, the red lights still spinning.
My heart dropped, and the bag in my hand slid to the ground as I started to run home.
5
Present
I lay on my bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling fan as it rotated lazily, and my thoughts, the usual susceptible chaos.
The light was on, even though I didn’t need it, but I just didn’t want them saying again that I was sitting in the dark, again.
The door creaked open as I sat up quickly, and my aunt stepped into the room, holding a cup in her hand.
“Were you talking to yourself?”
My eyes widened as I shook my head.
“Take, drink this,” she said, and I looked at the cup in hesitation.
“It’s prayer water. I got it from church, it is very powerful, and it will cast out all those things inside your body.” Her eyes dropped to my scars.
I placed my hand over my chest, almost like protection and stretched the other to take the cup and swallowed the contents in one gulp.
She nodded, satisfied. Then turned and left, shutting the door behind her.
After which I stood up and moved to stand in front of the mirror.
And stared at my reflection.
I stared at the mirror.
At me.
6
10 Years Ago
“I have cancer,” my father wheezed as he lay on the sofa in our living room.
“Cancer?” I repeated the foreign word in my mouth. How could my father have cancer? What even was cancer? Did it mean he would die?
My father had always been a large and lively man. The moment I heard his car pull up, I would squeal and run to him, and he would lift me high, spinning me in the air. How could a strong man like him be sick?
He gave me a faint smile as he held my tiny hands. “You’re a big girl now, aren’t you?”
I nodded, tears blurring my vision. I wanted to tell him that I planned to become a lawyer like him one day, but fear glued my tongue. I thought it wasn’t the right time, and I’ve regretted that silence ever since because I never got the chance to tell him.
He squeezed my hands. “Be good to your mom,” he whispered.
I nodded again, this time fiercely, but I was terrified. I couldn’t even imagine life without him.
“Can’t you… can’t you go to the hospital?” I sniffled.
He chuckled weakly. “It’s too late for me…”
7
Present Day
“Aminat! Should I be the one waiting for you when I’m doing you a favour?” My aunt’s shrill voice rang out from the living room.
She was supposed to drop me off at my boss’ shop, where I was learning to sew clothes while waiting for my admission letter.
I gave the room a final glance, hoping I hadn’t forgotten anything, then emerged.
She had just picked up her bag when her eyes fell on me, and she halted. “Aminat… what are you wearing? Are you okay?” She let out a short laugh.
Confused, I looked down at my dress, and a dreaded sigh escaped my lips.
“Why are you wearing your dress backwards?” She chuckled, giving me a disapproving look.
My tongue stumbled over excuses I couldn’t form. I didn’t want to give her more material for gossip.
“Uhm… I… it was dark when I dressed… I didn’t see…”
“Dark?” She repeated incredulously. “Even a blind person wears their clothes properly. I can’t wait for you, I have some money with you, right? Go to work yourself and remember… we’re going to the mountain top this Saturday. There’s a deliverance program.”
“Yes, ma,” I mumbled as she left.
I retreated into my room and flopped onto the bed, my thoughts spiralling into shambles. I didn’t need deliverance, I just wanted to be left alone. What did she think was wrong with me? I was fine. She was the one overreacting, the one always gossiping about me.
How did my life get here? I hated it… I hated everything. Why was I stuck, unable to move forward? Why did the past cling to me like chains? I was in a well of abyss, and what I needed was a rope to climb out… not anointing oil and endless prayers.
I just wanted …
“Aminat!” My aunt’s voice jolted me upright.
“What are you still doing here? You haven’t gone to work?”
“Work?… uhm… I… I was going to change my clothes…”
She gave me a long, hard look. “Since two hours ago? I’ve dropped Morayo at school and gone to the market!” she yelled.
Two hours?
I gasped, clutching my head as a slicing headache pulsed through me. My aunt hesitated, as if she wanted to say something, but shook her head and left.
Two hours. It had only felt like minutes.
What was happening to me? I turned toward the mirror in my room and froze.
My reflection was grinning.
I blinked.
She grinned again.
Olaore Raheemat Adebola aspires to be a full-time author. But for now, she balances the demands of studying law while steadily working toward that dream. Her writing includes a few short stories published in literary magazines, as well as a hybrid essay longlisted for the Narrative Against Poverty in Africa Prize (2025). When she’s not buried in law textbooks or writing, she’s watching films, reading, or indulging her love for cats and rainy weather. Instagram: olaore raheemat @raimyreads. X : raimyreads is writing. Tiktok: raimy.reads
Cover photo credit: Mihman Duğanlı