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City of Banjul
Saturday, February 8, 2025
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Echoes of Fulladu 2: Wax under a flame

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At thirteen, Nata was already wiser than many of her age mates, her experiences crafting a maturity that made her seem years beyond her age. The weight of responsibility had settled on her small shoulders like a mantle she had learned to bear in silence. The tasks of the house were numerous and demanding, and Nata had grown adept at managing them all. From the early morning chores of sweeping the compound and fetching water to the endless cycle of cooking, cleaning, supporting her mother in her garden, and caring for her younger siblings, she was the pulse that kept the household running. Her role was indispensable, and she carried it with a quiet strength that spoke volumes of her character.

But her life had become infinitely more complicated since the arrival of Mbentoung Mballow, her granduncle’s new wife. The shift in dynamics was jarring, like the sudden change from hot to cold weather that caught you unprepared. Nata’s world, once held together by the steady rhythm of family life, had been disturbed by this new presence—Maama Debo (grandma), as the children were instructed to call her. She was a woman full of fire and spite, and her presence ignited tensions that had long been simmering beneath the surface.

Nenneh Dado, Borogie’s co-wife, had always been a thorn in their side. Her jealousy and constant quarrels with Borogie were a fixture of Nata’s life, a source of daily stress that Nata had long since learned to endure. Borogie, always the bigger person, took the high road and mostly ignored her. But with Mbentoung’s arrival, the air seemed to thicken with resentment. Maama Debo, like Nenneh Dado, seemed to hold an innate dislike for Borogie. It was palpable, almost physical, and it confused Nata to no end.

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How could they not see what she saw in her mother? How could anyone, especially women who were meant to know the weight of motherhood, hate someone as loving, as kind, and as selfless as Borogie? Nata had asked herself this question a thousand times, but there was no clear answer, only confusion. Every day, as she navigated the complicated relationships in her household, the question gnawed at her. How could people claim to love her, yet hate the woman she loved more than anyone else in the world—her own mother?

And yet, Nata had learned to keep her questions to herself. The weight of their hatred for her mother was a burden too heavy for her to bear openly, so she kept her thoughts locked away. But on that particular day, as she entered the house, the simmering tension finally boiled over.

She had been walking from her mother’s garden, the familiar, rhythmic steps of her journey now weighed down by an unease she couldn’t shake. When she reached the compound and entered the house, the sound of raised voices caught her attention. It was the voices of her mother, Nenneh Dado, and Maama Debo—voices full of anger and bitterness.

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“I cannot be a slave for a worthless woman…” Nata heard Maama Debo’s sharp voice cutting through the air, filled with contempt.

Nata’s heart clenched. She knew it had to be about her mother. The words had always been harsh, but today, something about them seemed more pointed, more venomous.

From the other side of the compound, she heard her mother’s calm, steady voice—so unlike the sharpness of Maama Debo’s—rise in quiet defiance as she walked over confidently to the two women. “Who is useless— you or I?” Borogie’s words were measured, calm, but there was a dangerous undertone that made Nata’s pulse quicken.

The next words that came from Maama Debo’s mouth were even more venomous. “I will whop your ass and place sand in your mouth, if you talk to me in this way ever again,” she spat. “I am not Dado, referring to Nenneh Dado.” “I am younger than you and more powerful,” she emphasized the last word.

Nata froze, the air thick with the tension she could no longer ignore. Borogie had always remained calm, but this time, something in her mother’s voice shifted—an anger that was not often seen, an anger that had been building for far too long.

“It’s enough that I provide your asses with food that you feed on,” Borogie continued. “What would it be like if this useless woman were just like you lazy bitches…” The words hung in the air like poison.

It happened in an instant. Before Nata could even fully comprehend the exchange, both women—Nenneh Dado and Maama Debo—stood up, their hands reaching for Borogie, who was approaching them—unafraid, uncaring, and ready to fight as much as they did. The sheer force of their movements, the violence in their eyes, was too much for Nata to bear. She couldn’t let them touch her mother, not this time.

Without thinking, Nata rushed forward, her small hands grabbing Maama Debo’s arm before it could strike her mother. The grip she had on the woman’s hand was so firm, so unyielding, that Maama Debo froze for a moment, stunned by the sudden resistance. But that moment of hesitation passed quickly, and Maama Debo retaliated, swinging her free hand to slap Nata away.

Nata, though shaken, held on with all her strength. The older woman’s physical power was no match for the fierceness in Nata’s heart. Nata shoved Maama Debo back with all her might, sending her stumbling. For a moment, Maama Debo looked stunned, unsure of what had just happened. But the surprise didn’t last long.

Nenneh Dado, not to be outdone, lunged at Borogie, her face twisted in anger. Borogie, whose patience had reached its limit, stepped aside, making the other woman lose her footing. As she tumbled over, Borogie pushed her down to the ground with a force that made Nata gasp. She fell head first. And then a succession of slaps followed, the sharp sound of skin against skin, echoeing through the compound as Borogie vented her anger. The strength in her mother’s arms was something Nata had never truly understood until now. Borogie moved with a swiftness that left Nenneh Dado stunned and dazed, calling out for help. When she realized how futile her cries were, as there was no one in the house except the four of them, her face a mask of fear twisted into shame – melting inside her like wax under a flame.

Borogie watched Nenneh Dado’s face before slowly getting up over her, chest heaving. Nenneh Dado stopped crying out and started whimpering like a dog. Bewildered, Maama Debo moved to tackle Borogie. But Nata quickly ran over and found herself facing Maama Debo again. This time, she didn’t hesitate. She ran forward, her small frame a blur as she shoved Maama Debo away from her mother. The woman stumbled back, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and fury.

“Don’t you dare touch my mother again!” Nata shouted, her voice shaking but filled with a power she hadn’t known she possessed. For a moment, the room was still. Maama Debo remained on the ground, bewildered by the strength of a child. Borogie, too, was breathing heavily, her eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and relief.

“Get up, both of you shameless women,” Borogie said, her voice quiet but dangerous. “I will not tolerate disrespect in this house again. Not today, not ever!”

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid for so long. Borogie’s eyes flashed with a fierceness that Nata had never seen before. In that moment, she realized just how much her mother had endured. The daily insults, the quiet resentment, the burden of keeping everything together—Borogie had carried it all with a quiet grace, but now, the anger was undeniable.

Nenneh Dado, slowly rising to her feet, cast a look at Nata and Borogie, her face still twisted in shame. Maama Debo, too, stood up, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the situation. Neither woman spoke, but the silence between them was thick with unspoken words.

“Leave,” Borogie said again, her voice cold, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Both of you. Get into your rooms right now, or you will die in my hands today.”

Nata stood at her mother’s side, her chest still heaving from the adrenaline of the moment. She felt the heat of the anger that had burned inside her for so long, and for the first time, she felt that she could stand alongside her mother in this fight. The years of silence, of bearing witness to the cruelties of others, had ended. In that moment, Nata understood that she, too, was a force to be reckoned with.

As the two women, Maama Debo and Nenneh Dado, walked into their rooms mute as dead bodies, Nata turned to her mother, her face still flushed from the altercation. Borogie, her voice softer now, placed a hand on Nata’s shoulder.

“You are becoming a woman, Nata,” Borogie said, her voice filled with a mixture of pride and sorrow. “But remember, strength is not just in your hands. It is in your heart, in how you carry the love and respect for others, no matter how hard it is.”

Nata looked up at her mother, her heart swelling with a mixture of admiration and understanding. She had always known that Borogie was strong, but now she understood the depths of that strength—strength built on years of endurance, resilience, and love.

“I understand, Mama,” Nata whispered, her voice steady. “I understand now.”

And as the sun blazed ahead, Nata knew that she, too, was part of the strength that held their world together.

To be contd.

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