Excerpt from The Lulam Blues (A short story)

I completely forgot about this story and found it this morning as I was looking for what to publish. I often use my friend’s names when I write, simply because they are the names I know. The coincidence of the names I used are slightly scary because my friend recently lost her mum. I wrote this two years ago for my application to the creative writing program. This is now dedicated to the Oriola family.

THE LULAM BLUES

When Lucy was five, she suffered a loss that seemed to penetrate through her juvenile soul. “Mama won’t be coming back”, her papa said to her firmly. Papa and mama were what Lucy liked to call her parents as a child. She was so fond of her mother, and when she noticed mama spent a lot more time in the hospital than playing dolls with her at home, she started to become restless.

“I don’t understand Papa”

“Mama won’t be coming back, she’s gone… she didn’t make it”

Those last four words must have struck a nerve in her brain because she collapsed, alarming her solemn father. Even when she regained consciousness, she never said a word, never shed a tear; she blatantly refused to accept her mother was gone. At the funeral, she smiled at her aunties, whispering to her grandmother, “mama will return, don’t worry, Oluwa will bring her back to us.”

Soon, Lulam’s papa grew tired of her behavior, and who can blame him he had lost his wife to breast cancer, and here his daughter was, driving him insane with her hope. Everyone called her Lulam; it was a nickname her mama had given her when she was born. A fine nickname too, mostly because it combined her English and Yoruba name, and because it compared her innocent, calm nature to that of a lamb.

Three months after her mother’s death, one dark evening, as they sat for dinner, Lulam arranged a place for her mother on the dining table, in her usual manner.

“Lulam, dear what are you doing?” her father questioned exhaustingly, He had had a particularly strenuous day at work, and was not in the mood for his daughters troubles at all.

“Mama may come back and think we forgot about her. What if she’s hungry? She’ll need a place to sit papa”

“Lulam I explained to you, mama is not coming back”

“Yes she is Papa. I prayed, I prayed like mama taught me. Oluwa is powerful papa, he can bring her back”

“Lulam… Lulam please stop acting silly”

“Papa, praying to Oluwa is not silly. I must pray for mama”

Hearing those words provoked such anger in papa. He stood up from the table so abruptly that he knocked his chair to the floor.

“All Sefunmi did was pray to her Oluwa! Oluwa this! Oluwa that! Did Oluwa save her when she prayed?! Did Oluwa save her when she was dying?!

“Papa”

“Don’t Papa me please!”

He walked violently to the place Lulam had prepared for her mama, threw the plates off the table, spilling food and splattering glass all over the tiled floors.

Lulam looked at her father bewilderedly. She could not believe that he was so upset simply because she had faith that her mama would return. Lulam could not understand that her papa was in pain; her faith only tormented his grieving process. Tears welled in her eyes as she watched the plates shatter. Like the plates that night, the relationship with her father crashed to pieces. Her papa became a different man, a man she could no longer recognize. “And here you are! Believing in the rubbish that could not save her! Olamide…! Lucy Olamide Oriola! Enough of this nonsense, you hear me?! Enough! Oluwa didn’t save Sefunmi then, he will not save her now and he will never save her! Not another word about your mama coming! Ìranu! Clean up this mess kiakia!”

He stormed out of the dining room, leaving the place and his daughter in such disarray. Lulam’s heart sank. She knelt slowly in front of the dislodged food and the plate fragments. She looked up at the ceiling, her eyes pregnant with hot tears,

“Papa is right, Oluwa you have failed me, failed us. Mama is gone forever, she is never coming back; and because of you, I lost papa today. I pray and pray but you have made me an orphan. This is the last time I will pray to you.”

***

Two years later, Papa brought aunty Jumoke to the house, and this marked the beginning of a permanent detachment. Lulam watched as aunty Jumoke moved into her mama’s room, her life and her father’s heart. She became pregnant within the first year of their marriage, and as the babies rolled in, mama’s memory rolled out. Lulam felt like a stranger in her own home and sought refuge with her maids and nannies. Papa noticed this difference in his daughter, but unconsciously ignored it. He had tried his best to give her a new mother, to him, that was enough.

Till next week my teacups :) Feel free to leave me comments.

-A-Cup-of-Theo

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