1 Chapter 1

The birds chirped happily and the trees clapped their hands as Moriah, a buxom fourteen year old girl, made her way to school that morning. She was overjoyed that it was a new school term. Her mother had had to curtail her from jumping out of the house at the break of dawn.

"Moriah, you still have to fetch water at the river o!" Mama had reminded her that morning.

"Oh, no!" Moriah had wailed in disappointment. "Can't I fetch it when I come back from school? Today shall be a short one since we only just resumed," Moriah had pleaded with her mother.

Not that she was a lazy child like a few of her mates, rather, she was quite a hardworking child and she had overheard many a mother counseling their lazy children to 'borrow a leaf from Moriah!' It had taken her father's explanation of that maxim for Moriah to understand that the mothers only wanted their children to emulate her good and hard working behaviour.

Moriah was not one to balk at an errand. In fact, she relished it and had even helped her neighbours run errands when her mother did not need her.

"No!" her mother's emphatic answer had broken into her reverie. "You have to go early in the morning, Moriah. The water would still be settled and clean at that time ," Mama had explained further as she had begun the preparations for the day's breakfast.

As quickly as possible, Moriah had taken her earthen water pot and had headed for the river. She had met a few girls in her age grade and they had all gone on to the river in a group, already chatting happily and looking forward to the delights of the new day.

As it was only Moriah that was still going to school among them, she got teased to no end by her friends. Truth is that most of them envied Moriah, whose parents, though quite poor, could still afford to send her to school, being their only child. And, though most of the girls were sent to the local primary school in their village, where only two teachers taught from Levels one to five, their parents had flatly refused to send them to the neighbouring village, where the secondary school was, on the excuse of lack of funds. The girls all knew the 'norm' was for them to be married off to prospective grooms, who were supposed to help 'better their lots in life'. Many of the girls accepted this fate resignedly but only a few, like Moriah, fought it with vehemence.

"Baami has no excuse!" Boye, a smallish-looking but very smart girl among them, had argued once during their playtime. "I am an only child like Moriah too, but he has refused to send me to school! And the head master said that I was brilliant!" she had said sadly.

"Maybe your father does not have enough money," one of her friends had offered.

Boye had hissed angrily. "He cannot tell me that, o! He cannot tell me that! He doesn't have enough money, abi?! Yet, he has enough to use in getting drunk and making a fool of himself in the whole village!" she had said spitefully. Her father, 'Ololade, the repairer', as he was fondly called, was the village drunk who always made a nuisance of himself whenever he got drunk with the local palmwine. He never hesitated to buy drinks for whoever was willing to hail him during his drunken stupors. Boye, his daughter and only child, felt his magnanimity was ill-directed.

Boye's friends had comforted her with endearing words that day, but the atmosphere had been soured as each girl had seen the reflection of her own disappointment mirrored in Boye's embittered outburst. Each had sauntered off to their different homes without as much as a goodbye to their mates.

That very morning of the school resumption, after fetching water in their various water pots, the girls had bathed in the river and had left before more people arrived. Back home, Moriah had swept the compound and hurriedly eaten the meal her mother had made while she had been to the river.

Now on her way to the school, she basked lazily in the early morning sun, not caring that she was running late on the first school day. This session, she would be in Form Two! Form Two! She smiled delightfully as her heart soared in joy! She counted the remaining years on her fingertips, One, two! Two more years and she would be done! She would be done with school! Oh, how she would make her parents proud! She would go to Ake township to look for a job, save enough money to help in furthering her education and send some of the money to her parents too. Then, when she becomes a lawyer, she would help establish her parents in a big way. She would build a state-of-the-art foundry for her father, just like the one their Technology teacher had showed the class the previous term in Form One. And her mother, oh, her dear sweet mother.

That selfless angel God had sent her way. She would open a huge shop where her mother would not be the 'onidiri' again but the one supervising those that would be employed to make hair for others. Moriah dreamed on in careless abandon, a happy smile plastered on her face.

"Ouch!" The sudden jolt shattered Moriah's dream world and she crashed back to earth as her eyes flew open and she starred, horrified, at the girl she had bumped into. The girl's books lay scattered on the ground and she was already bending down to retrieve them.

"Sorry, sorry," Moriah mumbled in apology as she bent to help the girl gather some of the scattered books. Their heads collided in the process and the girl, contrary to Moriah's expectation, burst out in laughter. Her voice was rich and inviting.

"Are you normally this clumsy, or is it the jitters of being in school for the first time?" the girl asked as she straightened up and looked at Moriah quizzically, a playful smile hovering on the corner of her lips.

She accepted the books Moriah had helped her retrieve and looked at Moriah in a friendly way. "Is this your first time in a school?" The girl asked kindly. Though they could easily pass for contemporaries, she was much smaller in stature than Moriah, but she was way smarter, as Moriah had guessed. She also spoke the Queen's English with an accent much different from that of their Form teachers.

Moriah was at a loss for words as she gazed into a lovely pair of brown eyes, looking at her with interest.

"My name is Sade," the girl offered. "What's yours?" she asked further, head tilted to one side. The huge stack of books she held in her arms seem to dwarf her. Moriah wondered if she didn't have even a 'poly' bag to put her books in.

"Moriah."

Sade nodded approvingly. "Nice name, Moriah. So, is it your first day in school?" she asked again as she began heading into the school compound, Moriah in tow.

"No. Form Two," Moriah faltered for words.

Sade turned back to look at Moriah and let out a rich laughter. "Why, that is something else! My mom was right after all!" she replied after her laughter had subsided. "Baby, see this move as God's appointment, and make the best of it," Sade mimicked, speaking in a matronly tone that made Moriah laugh. She decided already that she liked this witty and funny girl and wanted her as a friend. "You see, Moriah, incidentally, I am in Form Two as well." She stopped in her tracks and faced Moriah. "But don't be deceived, Moriah, cos I'm twelve!"

Moriah opened her mouth in wonder. "Twelve?!" she squeaked.

"Yes, twelve!" Sade affirmed. She turned around and continued walking, Moriah, still following. They were heading toward the classrooms now. "Don't let my stature deceive you o!" Sade warned as she entered the Form Two class.

Moriah also entered and was warmly hailed by her contemporaries who were in Form One with her. They had all been promoted to Form Two as well . The boys had been rounded up for work on the school farm while a few of the girls had gone to the river to get water to wash the desks and benches and also to mop the floors of the classes. The handful of girls who remained now clustered around Moriah, eagerly telling her the latest news.

"Salewa has been taken!" someone among the girls announced sadly.

"What?!" All intimidation left Moriah as she charged into the class and dropped her bag on the nearest desk. She glared around her at the girls, suddenly angry. "When?!" she quizzed, looking round the girls as they shook their heads.

"Just last week o!" Ajoke, a classmate, replied.

"That's so wicked!" another girl wailed.

"They better not try it with me, or I'll run away!" one girl threatened.

"Wait, wait, what are you all talking about?" Sade asked.

Everyone turned to the newcomer. Moriah quickly made the introductions.

"This is Sade. She just came today." Moriah said. The girls all nodded their welcome as Moriah introduced them one by one.

"So, what were you talking about?" Sade asked after the introductions. "What does it mean to be taken?" she asked further, her head cocked to one side as she looked round the girls.

Ajoke sighed sadly. "She was taken forcefully to her husband's house!"

"Àsánte!" another girl spat in derision.

"Husband's house?! At what age?!" Sade asked in incredulity. She noticed fear plastered on each girl's eyes as she searched them for answers.

"That is what they do here," Moriah quipped bitterly.

Salewa was by far the biggest girl in Moriah's set. She towered over some of their teachers. The boys used to tease her and Moriah a lot because of their large size. And, their teacher had said Salewa 'has good prospects'. Whatever that meant.

They were distracted from their discussion by the entrance of one of their teachers who came in and rounded them all up to assign chores to them. It was the first school week, anyway, and students did nothing but clean the compound and classes, gone dusty by weeks of disuse owing to the holidays.

It was a tired Moriah who trudged home later at mid day. It had been a hectic but fulfilling day for her. She remembered how Sade had regaled them with tales of her travels and escapades in other regions, even as far away as Sokoto! Her father was a lecturer with the Federal government and as a result of his knowledge and expertise in his field, was always in high demand in the nation's higher institutions of learning. Moriah smiled as she recalled some of Sade's extraordinary tales of her escapades. Sade's tales had kept all her mates enraptured and sharpened Moriah's resolve to be well-learned in the nearest future.

Moriah got to her father's compound and as she moved closer to the main entrance, placing her hand to open the 'aganrandi' that protected the entrance door from the unwelcome intrusion of the domestic animals in her surroundings, mostly the goats, which were stubborn animals, she overheard her father's voice.

"You don't have much longer to wait, Agbekoya. Moriah has only two more years to go. I spoke with the 'edimosta' today," she heard her father say.

Moriah crouched low and snuck up to the side window, steering clear of the main entrance door. She quietly peeped in through the window to have a clear view of the room. Her father sat, facing Agbekoya, the renowned farmer in their village. A gourd of palmwine was on the floor between them. On the floor beside Agbekoya, who was smiling from ear to ear, were some hefty tubers of yam.

She instinctively knew what they were up to and the very idea repulsed her. Agbekoya was almost her father's age mate! How could her father even think of this! Moriah thought in bewilderment. What was her father thinking?! That she would abandon her studies and be married to a village celebrity old enough to be her father?! And be kept in obscurity without the pursuit of her dreams?

And to think she had been really nice to this Agbekoya, running unending errands for him! So the lewd man had meant it all those times he had teasingly called her 'my wife'?! No more! She vowed as she straightened up and made her way quietly to the backyard, avoiding the main entrance. She found her mother in the makeshift kitchen, turning the soup. She beamed in reply to Moriah's greetings as she wiped the beads of sweat off her face with the edge of her wrapper.

"Kaabo! Welcome! Agbekoya has asked after you o," she reported, all smiles.

"Hmmm," Moriah answered back without interest. She picked up her earthenware water pot that was still half-filled with water and looked for a large basin to pour the water into. She made her 'osuka '(cloth pad) and balanced her water pot on her head and made to leave through the back entrance.

Her mother looked up from her cooking, puzzled. "Nibo lo da? Where to, Moriah?"

"To the stream," the latter retorted.

Her mother was taken aback at the curtness of her tone. "You and who, Moriah?! Who quarreled with you?" she asked in surprise. Moriah was always a peace-loving child.

"No one, ma'mi," Moriah answered, a bit mollified. "I need to get to the stream," she persisted.

"But I told you that Agbekoya was around. Won't you even go and greet him? He is eager to see you," her mother pressed further.

"I have no business with him, ma'mi!" Moriah answered coldly as she headed out of the compound.

"Enn...remove your uniform ke!" she called but Moriah had long gone from their compound.

Mama only starred at Moriah's departing form in wonder. She shook her head slowly as she continued with her cooking.