Chapter 5: Bola’s Embrace

I was a bit afraid to see Bola.

I sat alone in the gazebo for a long time.

My heart gradually sank.

Until Ngozi said to me, "Madam, Tunde has sent a letter to the Kemi residence; the young lady should be back soon."

Near sunset, Bola returned.

The first thing she did was run to me, skirt lifted, still smelling of ink and—just for a moment—I remembered how her hair used to smell of coconut oil when she was small.

"Mummy!"

I held her tightly in my arms.

She buried her face in my wrapper, tears streaming down her face.

"Mummy, I always thought I was the one who killed you..."

My heart clenched.

I quickly took out a handkerchief, cupped her face, and wiped her tears.

"Bola, don’t cry. It was an armed robber who made me fall from the hill, not you."

That year, during the Olojo Festival, Tunde supported the local chairman, using all sorts of means and making many enemies.

When we went to the church for prayers, we were attacked by armed robbers.

To protect Bola, I wore Tunde’s jacket and lured the robber away.

While escaping, I accidentally fell from the rocky hill, suffered serious injuries and lost my memory, and wandered to Makurdi, where I met Chief Musa.

I comforted Bola for a while.

She took out a sheet of drawing paper to show me.

Though the brushwork was still young, it was clear the painting was of me.

She had just been crying, her voice muffled.

"Aunty Kemi showed me how to paint you, Mummy."

Aunty Kemi, Kemi Adeyemi, was my close friend back then.

Four years ago, when Tunde remarried, Bola became Kemi’s student, learning painting from her and often staying at the Kemi residence.

I looked closely at the painting, tears falling before I realized.

But she said, feeling down, "Mama Morayo said my painting is poor."

"She said as Daddy’s eldest daughter, I don’t need to learn these things. But Aunty Kemi told me that Mummy was the best in writing and painting in the city, so I want to be more like Mummy."

I smiled. "For your age, your painting is already very good."

This wasn’t just to comfort her.

Bola finally smiled, her teary eyes turning into crescents.

I asked carefully, "I’ve remarried. Bola, are you willing to leave the Tunde family and go to Makurdi with me?"

She nodded hard.

I breathed a long sigh of relief, smiling. "Good. I’ll have someone pack your things; we’ll leave in a few days."

Bola hugged me tighter, as if afraid I would vanish again, and for a moment the years lost between us felt smaller.