Relief
Miriam Amoit
Miriam Amoit
Mama says not to keep secrets. She is telling her friend to always find someone to confide in. I don’t know what confide means, and if I ask, Mama will know I have been listening in on their conversation. I am behind the couch. I didn’t mean to listen. I was reading, but that stupid Epale ran away with my book because he wanted to play and hoped I would run after him.
I guess confide has something to do with secrets. I have a secret myself. I have not told anyone—not Mama, Papa, or Epale. Not even Jaja or Aunt Judy. All they know is that Cousin Orone was home when Papa was shot and that he stayed with us while Mama took Papa to hospital, and since then he comes home a lot more than before, and Papa likes him even more than he used to. Mama says I can tell her anything, but she goes to her store early in the morning and comes back late in the evening, and ever since Papa was shot, she spends all her time fussing over him.
I cannot tell my stupid brother Epale. His head is full of games and tricks to pull on me like tickling me just as I have filled my spoon causing rice to pour all over or startling me when my head is stuck in the neck of a sweater and I am really scared. He is also such a loudmouth. He told on me when I stood in the sun to dry after bathing instead of using a towel as Jaja said. He also told on me when I bathed in the rain. We did this together. We both stood on the veranda and soaped ourselves all over then ran out in the rain until all the soap was washed away, but Epale told Mama that I was the only one who did and that he tried to stop me. I swear one day I will cut off his tongue. But until then, all he will ever know is that Cousin Orone likes carrying me on his lap. Epale won’t remember that the day after Papa was shot, when Mama brought him back from the hospital, and many people came to say they were sorry, and the house was so full there were no places for us to sit. Jaja carried him, and Cousin Orone carried me and gave me a lollipop after, and he still gives me a lollipop every time he comes over.
I have thought of telling Njeeri, my best friend at school. Mama says I should not be friends with her because she is always talking about boys, and there was a time she was caught with a boy behind the class. Both were taken to the staffroom and caned properly. But Njeeri sits with me in class, and always picks me first for games, and pulls me along with her everywhere, and shows me her book when the board is rubbed before I have finished copying, and when I was sick and couldn’t go to school she came to see me and brought the other girls.
Njeeri does not giggle when talking about bad manners. Everyone else giggles because we know it is supposed to be a secret for a husband and wife, and that is why they sleep on the same bed. Njeeri says that if people who are not husband and wife do it and are caught they will become stuck together; then when one of them pees, the pee will enter into the other. She says that the brother of her neighbour’s cousin’s friend was caught. They were carried out and taken to hospital and everyone all the way from the neighbourhood to the hospital saw what they were doing. They had to be cut through to be separated, and the wounds took months to heal. I wonder if what we do with Cousin Orone is not bad manners because we do not get stuck, or maybe we do not get stuck because we have not been caught.
But I have not told Njeeri. She can get excited and ask too many questions, and give away a secret without knowing. I told her about the husband and wife who live on the next block, and how every morning when they wake up the husband opens the door while wrapping a towel around his waist, the wife follows while wrapping a leso under her armpits, and together they head for the ablution block. Njeeri reasoned that they only have a leso and towel on because they sleep naked. When she came home she asked me to point out the husband and wife to her and got so excited that I was scared Mama would hear us. I don’t want her to give away my secret.
I cannot even think of telling Aunt Judy. Aunt Judy makes even toilet sound like a very dirty, very shameful word. Instead of saying pee or poo, she says to relieve yourself. When bathing us, she scrubs as if she is punishing us for being dirty. Epale always ends up crying. He has started running away whenever he hears Aunt Judy calling, and when I see Aunt Judy running after him, I hide, and then they cannot find me because they did not see me hiding. One day I hid in the outside toilet. I sat quietly and listened as Aunt Judy chased Epale round and round and cursed and threatened when he climbed up the mango tree ‒ but Epale did not come down. I listened on as she looked for me and cursed some more and threatened even more, but I did not even giggle.
Aunt Judy calls pee areas private parts and says they must never be touched or played with. I can never tell her that I touched Cousin Orone’s and that the first time I did it was in a house full of people. Whenever Cousin Orone comes over, Aunt Judy always stays in the kitchen. Even that day after Papa was shot and Mama was bringing him back home and the house was full of people, Aunt Judy stayed in the kitchen. She has never seen Cousin Orone carrying me on his lap and has never asked where I get all those lollipops.
I think I can tell Jaja. Jaja is not like Aunt Judy; she announces her visits to the toilet the same way Aunt Judy says she is getting a plate from the kitchen. “Wait here, I need to go poopoo.” We protest every time. I turn up my nose and Epale covers his ears while singing loudly, and every time Jaja replies that it is a natural body process and everyone does it. Aunt Judy frowns at her, but Jaja does not mind. When Aunt Judy told us to say, “private parts,” Jaja asked if there were any public parts. Epale and I burst out laughing, and Aunt Judy became so angry that she sent us out of the kitchen.
Jaja has taught us to call our pee areas dondon and dindin. "Boys have dondon and girls have dindin," she says while bathing us. We always giggle. Of course, we know that those are not just pee areas, they are used for doing bad manners, but we don't know if Jaja knows that we know. Aunt Judy says they are not supposed to be touched, but Jaja says we are supposed to wash them properly. "Boys wash with soap and water, girls wash with water only," she says.
Aunt Judy says she is teaching us bad manners. Jaja says she is teaching us hygiene. But we still cannot say those words out loud. Every big person we know frowns at any mention of it, except Jaja, who says they are normal body parts, like head, shoulders, knees and toes. When she makes us say it, we whisper with covered mouths.
I want to tell Jaja, but I don't know how to. There is so much I haven't told her. I haven't told her that Njeeri was caught with a boy behind the class. I haven't told her about the husband and wife on the next block. I haven't told her that I have already seen naked women even though she sends us out of the room whenever she wants to dress. It was at Uncle Petero's funeral. There were so many people, and two large enclosures were put up for people to bathe in, one for men and one for women. Epale used to bathe with men, and I used to bathe with women, and they did not cover themselves from me, and I still remember everything.
Now I hide behind Jaja every time Cousin Orone comes. If she goes to the shop, she has to take me with her, and I promise not to ask for anything. But Jaja knows that I have not always been afraid of Cousin Orone, and that I used to run to him and make him lift me and throw me in the air, and that the day Papa came home from hospital he carried me on his lap and she carried Epale, and that whenever he visits he carries me on his lap and gives me more lollipops than he gives Epale.
"What is this big fight you are having with Anya?" she asks Cousin Orone.
"What do you mean?"
"You used to be such good friends and now she doesn't even want to greet you."
I hold onto Jaja’s skirt and peep. Cousin Orone is wearing shorts, his skinny hairy legs bare for all to see, and blackened toes stick out from his sandals. His eyes are turning red and he starts shaking. I pull back and cover my face with Jaja’s skirt.
"Are you accusing me of anything?" he shouts at Jaja. "Why don't you just come out and say it instead of beating around the bush?"
"I am just saying‒"
"Of course you are just saying. You are always just saying. You have a big mouth, and that big mouth will bring you trouble."
Cousin Orone walks away and Epale runs over to ask whether he has given me a lollipop. At night, I wake up to hear people arguing in the living room.
“She has to go,” Papa says.
“But she helps with the children,” Mama pleads.
“She is teaching the children bad manners.”
I open the door. Jaja is sitting at the far end looking down and wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. Everyone keeps quiet when they see me. I walk over to Jaja. “I want to pee,” I say.
She holds my hand and quietly takes me to the toilet, then back to bed. “Goodnight,” she says. She doesn’t look at me.
In the morning we wake up to find Jaja leaving. Her bags are already packed. “I told you you talk too much,” Aunt Judy whispers.
I cry. Epale cries too. Papa comes and holds our hands and stops us from hugging her goodbye. I don’t go out to play, I hide in the bedroom the whole morning. When I come out I see Cousin Orone has come and I go back into the bedroom, but stupid Epale will not let me be.
Cousin Orone has come and I go back into the bedroom, but stupid Epale will not let me be.
“Cousin Orone is here.”
I shrug.
“Go find out if he has lollipops.”
“I don’t want lollipops.”
“Go, then you’ll give them to me.”
“Why don’t you ask for them yourself?”
“But you know he likes you more. Me, he pretends he doesn’t see me.”
“I don’t like him, and I am pretending I can’t see him. That makes us even.”
I hear Papa telling Cousin Orone that I am sad because Jaja has gone, and that I will come around later. They do not force me to greet him.
We fear Papa. Even Epale stops his games when Papa is home. When he is in the living room, we hide behind the couch and stay quiet, or we go to the kitchen or bedroom. Njeeri says that in their home they do not fear their father, and that they even play with him. I used to think that she was telling her usual jokes, but I believed her when she fought with a boy at school and her parents were called and her father took her side. The boy had lifted Njeeri’s skirt and her father said he should be punished and not Njeeri. Us, we can never tell Papa anything. I can’t even dream of telling him about Cousin Orone. Papa loves Cousin Orone. He listens to him and believes him over everyone else.
Cousin Orone starts coming home even more often, but I find ways of hiding from him. I hide in the bedroom; I hide behind the couch and listen to him and Papa talk; I hide in the outside toilet. I climb the lower branches of the mango tree even though I hate climbing trees and can never get to the higher branches like Epale.
As usual, Epale rats me out and I get caught a few times. Like the day I see Papa and Cousin Orone coming and I slide behind the couch. They greet Epale, and Cousin Orone asks for me.
“She is hiding behind the couch,” he says.
I pretend I am too taken in by my book to hear them.
Epale leans over the couch. “Anya!” he shouts. “Cousin Orone wants to greet you!”
I want to die.
I drag myself out of my hiding place, walk over to Cousin Orone, and extend my hand for a handshake, but he ignores it.
“Come here my favorite girl,” he lifts me and holds me for a minute. He smells like unwashed clothes. When he puts me down I struggle to escape, but he holds on to me. His hands are rough as if he’s been carrying rocks with his them.
“Come and sit with me,” he says.
I shake my head and try to release myself again, but Papa is watching.
“Anya, is that how you behave?” Papa starts. Epale runs out. “You are being very disrespectful to your cousin. Stop these bad manners.”
Cousin Orone grins at me. He sits and lifts me onto his lap.
With Jaja gone and Aunt Judy mean as always, I turn to Mama, but I don’t know how to tell her. Whenever we want anything, it is always Epale who asks. He asked if we could go to the show and if we could go to Njeeri’s birthday party. Mama had already told me not to be friends with Njeeri, but she allowed us to go to her party. I made Epale ask for chips and soda from the restaurant, and Mama bought a sack of potatoes, cooking oil, tomato sauce, and a big bottle of Fanta Orange. We sat in the kitchen with Aunt Judy and watched her peel, slice, and fry the potatoes. Cousin Orone didn’t come that day.
I stay near Mama more. Mama stays home longer and longer, many times leaving for her store late and coming back home early. I sit with her and play near her, and I am almost always in the same room as her. I stay with her even when she is fussing over Papa. Whenever she is around Cousin Orone does not insist that I greet him; he greets Mama and leaves me alone. But I hear him tell Papa that I have become difficult and that I still have the bad manners I learned from Jaja.
“She will grow out of it,” Papa says.
But Mama is not the same. Since Jaja left she does not smile as much, and she and Papa argue a lot, and sometimes she sleeps in my bed. I hear them argue that I refused to greet Cousin Orone, and Mama says that I always loved Cousin Orone, and Papa asks if she thinks he is lying, and that maybe I have become that way because Mama allows bad behaviour, and that maybe he’s been blaming Jaja all along when it is actually Mama who is teaching me not to respect big people. Mama comes to sleep with me.
In the end, I don’t tell Mama. I am afraid that if she knows what I have been doing with Cousin Orone, or that a few times it happened when she was around, or that the first time it happened was in a house full of people, or that it is the reason I don’t like Cousin Orone anymore, or that Jaja knew something was wrong, she and Papa will not stop arguing and Mama will become even more sad.
But Mama remains sad, and stops going to her store, and continues to sleep with me in my bed every night, and sometimes in the morning her eyes are swollen, until one day she packs all our clothes and tells us we are going to grandma’s, just me, Epale, and her. Aunt Judy will go to her own home, and Papa will stay behind. Jaja is at grandma’s. She used to live at grandma’s before she came to live with us. Cousin Orone is not at grandma’s and I know I don’t have to hide from him anymore.
I guess confide has something to do with secrets. I have a secret myself. I have not told anyone—not Mama, Papa, or Epale. Not even Jaja or Aunt Judy. All they know is that Cousin Orone was home when Papa was shot and that he stayed with us while Mama took Papa to hospital, and since then he comes home a lot more than before, and Papa likes him even more than he used to. Mama says I can tell her anything, but she goes to her store early in the morning and comes back late in the evening, and ever since Papa was shot, she spends all her time fussing over him.
I cannot tell my stupid brother Epale. His head is full of games and tricks to pull on me like tickling me just as I have filled my spoon causing rice to pour all over or startling me when my head is stuck in the neck of a sweater and I am really scared. He is also such a loudmouth. He told on me when I stood in the sun to dry after bathing instead of using a towel as Jaja said. He also told on me when I bathed in the rain. We did this together. We both stood on the veranda and soaped ourselves all over then ran out in the rain until all the soap was washed away, but Epale told Mama that I was the only one who did and that he tried to stop me. I swear one day I will cut off his tongue. But until then, all he will ever know is that Cousin Orone likes carrying me on his lap. Epale won’t remember that the day after Papa was shot, when Mama brought him back from the hospital, and many people came to say they were sorry, and the house was so full there were no places for us to sit. Jaja carried him, and Cousin Orone carried me and gave me a lollipop after, and he still gives me a lollipop every time he comes over.
I have thought of telling Njeeri, my best friend at school. Mama says I should not be friends with her because she is always talking about boys, and there was a time she was caught with a boy behind the class. Both were taken to the staffroom and caned properly. But Njeeri sits with me in class, and always picks me first for games, and pulls me along with her everywhere, and shows me her book when the board is rubbed before I have finished copying, and when I was sick and couldn’t go to school she came to see me and brought the other girls.
Njeeri does not giggle when talking about bad manners. Everyone else giggles because we know it is supposed to be a secret for a husband and wife, and that is why they sleep on the same bed. Njeeri says that if people who are not husband and wife do it and are caught they will become stuck together; then when one of them pees, the pee will enter into the other. She says that the brother of her neighbour’s cousin’s friend was caught. They were carried out and taken to hospital and everyone all the way from the neighbourhood to the hospital saw what they were doing. They had to be cut through to be separated, and the wounds took months to heal. I wonder if what we do with Cousin Orone is not bad manners because we do not get stuck, or maybe we do not get stuck because we have not been caught.
But I have not told Njeeri. She can get excited and ask too many questions, and give away a secret without knowing. I told her about the husband and wife who live on the next block, and how every morning when they wake up the husband opens the door while wrapping a towel around his waist, the wife follows while wrapping a leso under her armpits, and together they head for the ablution block. Njeeri reasoned that they only have a leso and towel on because they sleep naked. When she came home she asked me to point out the husband and wife to her and got so excited that I was scared Mama would hear us. I don’t want her to give away my secret.
I cannot even think of telling Aunt Judy. Aunt Judy makes even toilet sound like a very dirty, very shameful word. Instead of saying pee or poo, she says to relieve yourself. When bathing us, she scrubs as if she is punishing us for being dirty. Epale always ends up crying. He has started running away whenever he hears Aunt Judy calling, and when I see Aunt Judy running after him, I hide, and then they cannot find me because they did not see me hiding. One day I hid in the outside toilet. I sat quietly and listened as Aunt Judy chased Epale round and round and cursed and threatened when he climbed up the mango tree ‒ but Epale did not come down. I listened on as she looked for me and cursed some more and threatened even more, but I did not even giggle.
Aunt Judy calls pee areas private parts and says they must never be touched or played with. I can never tell her that I touched Cousin Orone’s and that the first time I did it was in a house full of people. Whenever Cousin Orone comes over, Aunt Judy always stays in the kitchen. Even that day after Papa was shot and Mama was bringing him back home and the house was full of people, Aunt Judy stayed in the kitchen. She has never seen Cousin Orone carrying me on his lap and has never asked where I get all those lollipops.
I think I can tell Jaja. Jaja is not like Aunt Judy; she announces her visits to the toilet the same way Aunt Judy says she is getting a plate from the kitchen. “Wait here, I need to go poopoo.” We protest every time. I turn up my nose and Epale covers his ears while singing loudly, and every time Jaja replies that it is a natural body process and everyone does it. Aunt Judy frowns at her, but Jaja does not mind. When Aunt Judy told us to say, “private parts,” Jaja asked if there were any public parts. Epale and I burst out laughing, and Aunt Judy became so angry that she sent us out of the kitchen.
Jaja has taught us to call our pee areas dondon and dindin. "Boys have dondon and girls have dindin," she says while bathing us. We always giggle. Of course, we know that those are not just pee areas, they are used for doing bad manners, but we don't know if Jaja knows that we know. Aunt Judy says they are not supposed to be touched, but Jaja says we are supposed to wash them properly. "Boys wash with soap and water, girls wash with water only," she says.
Aunt Judy says she is teaching us bad manners. Jaja says she is teaching us hygiene. But we still cannot say those words out loud. Every big person we know frowns at any mention of it, except Jaja, who says they are normal body parts, like head, shoulders, knees and toes. When she makes us say it, we whisper with covered mouths.
I want to tell Jaja, but I don't know how to. There is so much I haven't told her. I haven't told her that Njeeri was caught with a boy behind the class. I haven't told her about the husband and wife on the next block. I haven't told her that I have already seen naked women even though she sends us out of the room whenever she wants to dress. It was at Uncle Petero's funeral. There were so many people, and two large enclosures were put up for people to bathe in, one for men and one for women. Epale used to bathe with men, and I used to bathe with women, and they did not cover themselves from me, and I still remember everything.
Now I hide behind Jaja every time Cousin Orone comes. If she goes to the shop, she has to take me with her, and I promise not to ask for anything. But Jaja knows that I have not always been afraid of Cousin Orone, and that I used to run to him and make him lift me and throw me in the air, and that the day Papa came home from hospital he carried me on his lap and she carried Epale, and that whenever he visits he carries me on his lap and gives me more lollipops than he gives Epale.
"What is this big fight you are having with Anya?" she asks Cousin Orone.
"What do you mean?"
"You used to be such good friends and now she doesn't even want to greet you."
I hold onto Jaja’s skirt and peep. Cousin Orone is wearing shorts, his skinny hairy legs bare for all to see, and blackened toes stick out from his sandals. His eyes are turning red and he starts shaking. I pull back and cover my face with Jaja’s skirt.
"Are you accusing me of anything?" he shouts at Jaja. "Why don't you just come out and say it instead of beating around the bush?"
"I am just saying‒"
"Of course you are just saying. You are always just saying. You have a big mouth, and that big mouth will bring you trouble."
Cousin Orone walks away and Epale runs over to ask whether he has given me a lollipop. At night, I wake up to hear people arguing in the living room.
“She has to go,” Papa says.
“But she helps with the children,” Mama pleads.
“She is teaching the children bad manners.”
I open the door. Jaja is sitting at the far end looking down and wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. Everyone keeps quiet when they see me. I walk over to Jaja. “I want to pee,” I say.
She holds my hand and quietly takes me to the toilet, then back to bed. “Goodnight,” she says. She doesn’t look at me.
In the morning we wake up to find Jaja leaving. Her bags are already packed. “I told you you talk too much,” Aunt Judy whispers.
I cry. Epale cries too. Papa comes and holds our hands and stops us from hugging her goodbye. I don’t go out to play, I hide in the bedroom the whole morning. When I come out I see Cousin Orone has come and I go back into the bedroom, but stupid Epale will not let me be.
Cousin Orone has come and I go back into the bedroom, but stupid Epale will not let me be.
“Cousin Orone is here.”
I shrug.
“Go find out if he has lollipops.”
“I don’t want lollipops.”
“Go, then you’ll give them to me.”
“Why don’t you ask for them yourself?”
“But you know he likes you more. Me, he pretends he doesn’t see me.”
“I don’t like him, and I am pretending I can’t see him. That makes us even.”
I hear Papa telling Cousin Orone that I am sad because Jaja has gone, and that I will come around later. They do not force me to greet him.
We fear Papa. Even Epale stops his games when Papa is home. When he is in the living room, we hide behind the couch and stay quiet, or we go to the kitchen or bedroom. Njeeri says that in their home they do not fear their father, and that they even play with him. I used to think that she was telling her usual jokes, but I believed her when she fought with a boy at school and her parents were called and her father took her side. The boy had lifted Njeeri’s skirt and her father said he should be punished and not Njeeri. Us, we can never tell Papa anything. I can’t even dream of telling him about Cousin Orone. Papa loves Cousin Orone. He listens to him and believes him over everyone else.
Cousin Orone starts coming home even more often, but I find ways of hiding from him. I hide in the bedroom; I hide behind the couch and listen to him and Papa talk; I hide in the outside toilet. I climb the lower branches of the mango tree even though I hate climbing trees and can never get to the higher branches like Epale.
As usual, Epale rats me out and I get caught a few times. Like the day I see Papa and Cousin Orone coming and I slide behind the couch. They greet Epale, and Cousin Orone asks for me.
“She is hiding behind the couch,” he says.
I pretend I am too taken in by my book to hear them.
Epale leans over the couch. “Anya!” he shouts. “Cousin Orone wants to greet you!”
I want to die.
I drag myself out of my hiding place, walk over to Cousin Orone, and extend my hand for a handshake, but he ignores it.
“Come here my favorite girl,” he lifts me and holds me for a minute. He smells like unwashed clothes. When he puts me down I struggle to escape, but he holds on to me. His hands are rough as if he’s been carrying rocks with his them.
“Come and sit with me,” he says.
I shake my head and try to release myself again, but Papa is watching.
“Anya, is that how you behave?” Papa starts. Epale runs out. “You are being very disrespectful to your cousin. Stop these bad manners.”
Cousin Orone grins at me. He sits and lifts me onto his lap.
With Jaja gone and Aunt Judy mean as always, I turn to Mama, but I don’t know how to tell her. Whenever we want anything, it is always Epale who asks. He asked if we could go to the show and if we could go to Njeeri’s birthday party. Mama had already told me not to be friends with Njeeri, but she allowed us to go to her party. I made Epale ask for chips and soda from the restaurant, and Mama bought a sack of potatoes, cooking oil, tomato sauce, and a big bottle of Fanta Orange. We sat in the kitchen with Aunt Judy and watched her peel, slice, and fry the potatoes. Cousin Orone didn’t come that day.
I stay near Mama more. Mama stays home longer and longer, many times leaving for her store late and coming back home early. I sit with her and play near her, and I am almost always in the same room as her. I stay with her even when she is fussing over Papa. Whenever she is around Cousin Orone does not insist that I greet him; he greets Mama and leaves me alone. But I hear him tell Papa that I have become difficult and that I still have the bad manners I learned from Jaja.
“She will grow out of it,” Papa says.
But Mama is not the same. Since Jaja left she does not smile as much, and she and Papa argue a lot, and sometimes she sleeps in my bed. I hear them argue that I refused to greet Cousin Orone, and Mama says that I always loved Cousin Orone, and Papa asks if she thinks he is lying, and that maybe I have become that way because Mama allows bad behaviour, and that maybe he’s been blaming Jaja all along when it is actually Mama who is teaching me not to respect big people. Mama comes to sleep with me.
In the end, I don’t tell Mama. I am afraid that if she knows what I have been doing with Cousin Orone, or that a few times it happened when she was around, or that the first time it happened was in a house full of people, or that it is the reason I don’t like Cousin Orone anymore, or that Jaja knew something was wrong, she and Papa will not stop arguing and Mama will become even more sad.
But Mama remains sad, and stops going to her store, and continues to sleep with me in my bed every night, and sometimes in the morning her eyes are swollen, until one day she packs all our clothes and tells us we are going to grandma’s, just me, Epale, and her. Aunt Judy will go to her own home, and Papa will stay behind. Jaja is at grandma’s. She used to live at grandma’s before she came to live with us. Cousin Orone is not at grandma’s and I know I don’t have to hide from him anymore.
Miriam Amoit is a data analyst based in Nairobi, Kenya. Her children's book, Ikapiladi the Magical Bird, was published by East African Educational Publishers, and one of her short stories has appeared in the Equipoise anthology.