Agatha

was dawn and Agatha just clocked 7. She opened her eyes on the ragged foam she slept on in the sitting room. The candle had already burnt out.

The crock had just crowed and she knew it was supposed to be a memorable year.  The birds too were humming and their song sounded similar to “ And she's a very good fellow”. But Agatha had never felt like a good fellow. She knew she was bad at everything. It wasn't that she wasn't too sure. She knew she was one of the worst human beings in the world. She could never do anything right. 

Her heart began to beat fast when she remembered what her last year's birthday looked like. She was scared of what today would look like too.

Her big aunty whom she lived with had been maltreating her since she was a child. Agatha's mother and father were separated when she was four. After the separation which took her father away from home since then, her mother began to expose her to different forms of abuse. At her alcohol shop under a mahogany tree on the street, she would ask her daughter to take dry gin and sometimes hard drugs to the houses of men without bothering about what happened to her. For all she cared, the family needed to alleviate their suffering and Agatha was unfortunate to have been her first daughter. This continued for years until one of the men raped the poor girl and still placated her mother by promising to sponsor her education. 

It was not long after this that the news got to some of Agatha's father's relatives who took her away from the mother and asked her to start living with her father's younger sister.

Her hopes were high that things would turn around but it became worse. Mummy as she fondly calls her would give her own children the best of meals, clothes, and other good things but make Agatha to suffer sometimes going for a day without eating, making her do all the work without her own children doing anything, giving her torn clothes to wear and so on. As if this was not enough, she would call her names and remind her that her parents were destitutes who could not take care of her. 'You good for nothing daughter of destitutes' was the most common word Agatha heard in that house. During her last birthday, she mistakenly broke a glass jug out of fear following a threat from Aunty to send her back to her mother. While serving the water, the glass broke. Aunty came to the kitchen and beat hell out of her. She promised to make tattoos on her face with the broken pieces of the glass cup if not for the intervention of the visitor. Agatha had to suffer this for days as she was not allowed to drink water from the clean water like the other children but from the drum that received rain water which a lizard had died inside days before.

All these were memories Agatha woke up with on her seventh birthday. Her voice began to shake as she soiled her pillow with tears. She loved her mother. She loved her father. She loved her siblings, but wondered why God allowed her to go through those experiences. 

'Agatha' she heard her name from Aunty's room. It was 6:30 am. She was supposed to have brought out the frozen foods from the freezer from 6:00 am but being lost in thoughts, she hurried out of bed and wiped her tears. She looked at herself in a mirror. She also knew she was not good looking. 

She started making the foods even though she knew it was not for her birthday but because Aunty was hosting a party after church for some of her unit members. She was sometimes confused at Aunty's hot prayers and the contrast with her hot temper. 

By 8:15 am, the food was ready and she was to start washing clothes. A basket full of clothes worn by every member of the family for the past two weeks. As at 12 pm she was yet to eat and would have to immediately go to the market. Meat sellers would have started returning from the abattoir by then. Aunty advised her to take a cup of garri so as to have strength to continue her work. Many times she would not have time to read her books or complete her notes because home was a workshop for her after school. Aunty had said she was training her and preparing her to become strong in her future husband's house.

On her way to the market, she became lost in thoughts. A motorcycle almost hit her and the driver slapped her back suddenly to arouse her. She really wished she was dead. She could not make anything good out of life. She had no parent watching over her like the other children. She has no good clothes, could not attend a good school and so on.

On returning around 1:45 pm she ate her breakfast quickly and had to start picking the vegetables. 

It wasn't a bad birthday like last year. But no one wished her a happy birthday. No one hugged her. No one noticed her. And she just knew she was a nuisance to her world.

She slept with a heave of relief that there was no drama this year, but yet with a space seeking for love that no one could fill.