OLIKOYE By Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie How softly the rain fell that Monday morning when my water broke. Because I was used to the raging downpours of Lagos, this quiet patter calmed me, filled me with peace. My husband Omoregie was at work and so our neighbor took me to the hospital, my dress slightly damp, my heart full of expectation. My firstborn child. The nurse on duty was Sister Chioma, a woman with an unsmiling face who liked to crack sharp-tongued jokes. During my last check up, when I complained about the backache brought on by my pregnancy, her retort was, “Did you think about backache when you were enjoying it?” She checked my cervix and told me it was early. She encouraged me to walk up and down the ward. “You must be happy that your first is a boy,” she said. I shrugged. “As long as the baby is healthy.” “I know you are supposed to wait until he is born to decide on a name but I’m sure you already have something in mind,” she said. “I will name him Olikoye.” Continue here...achebeliveson.blogspot/2015/01/olikoye.html
Posted on: Thu, 22 Jan 2015 01:19:56 +0000