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277
Israel Oyedeji
Student @ Obafemi Awolowo University
Student @ Obafemi Awolowo University
Leaking. III
<p>A story for another day, I say. This morning was like every other.</p><p>And I heard a new one today: "Why is this place smelling like this? You have weewee again abi? You and my baby girl are now doing competition, sha carry your bed and let the sun beat it." And she continued, "Even my baby girl will not wee unless she drinks too much water at night."</p><p>I know you're wondering how we got here and who she is. She is my aunty who stayed with us for a week while my mom wasn't around. My dad was well aware of my situation, but didn’t pay much attention; he never shouted at me. I guess he saw it as a phase too.</p><p>I couldn't step into the parlor for that entire week. I stayed confined to my room during this period. The voices of children playing outside echoed through the windows. I remember I was flogged once for it—nothing changed, so what could?</p><p>I became very observant. It didn't come when I was around many people. I remember when I went for camp—nothing happened for a whole week. Right there I knew I could do it, that I could wake up dry. But my bed surely felt it when I came back.</p><p>Now, I look back and laugh. I remember when I’d sleep on the floor just to be conscious enough to wake up. A phase I had to pass through.</p><p>So let’s fast forward a bit >>></p><p>To when I started coming out of the room, to when I hung the mackintosh.</p><p><br/></p>
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