I never heard of the word hypochondriac till I watched a Mexican telenovela by the same name.

Although it had a happy ending, I did not know if I was going to find my princess charming and my happily ever after.

Who in their right mind would want to hypochondria you may ask?

I was born prematurely, almost did not survive and had to be hidden from the rest of the world for a year, of which my features had finally formed, and I resembled a normal baby.

It did not help that in the hinterland of Ojodu, In the mid 90s, we were of the lower class and did not have enough access to proper healthcare like we should have.

It did not help that I had a brother before me who passed away at birth, so my parents were determined to have me live, hence the traditional method of taking care of me ensued. While babies were bathed with water, I was bathed with agbo which was not allowed to come close to my face.

It did not help that my mother was put through mental stress during her pregnancy and suffered greatly in the hands of her in laws.

Why am I saying this? It lays a precedent or so for the behavior and issues that will come up in my later years.

Part i: Convulsion

It was the year 2003, my parents had gone for the burial ceremony of my grandfather in Ondo State. I

was with my elder siblings for the weekend.

It was a normal weekend, and I was excited to spend it with them as they were older than I was and

were rarely around. I was allowed to stay with them at night since Nepa had not taken the light.

We watched the latest episode of the American telenovela; ‘Passions’. Timmy and Tabitha always made me

afraid as I use to think Tabitha could reach out to me across the screen and turn me to her doll.

Saturday went by with a flash, we watched music videos from a burnt cd on our newly purchased VCD,

played more music from my brother’s Walkman and tried imitating him Crip Walk.

He gave me 5 naira to

buy goody goody and that was the highlight of my day.

I bought as many as I could get with the money.

However, I did not feel too good that evening and we chalked it up to eating too many sweets. went to

bed early.

The sounds of gospel music pierced through the air; it was Sunday morning obviously and i could hear

the chickens in the compound make their usual noise. I heard my sister in the kitchen and could smell

the aroma of our upcoming breakfast.

I noticed something was wrong immediately, I could not move my body, and I felt so stiff, my eyes were open, but I could not blink or move it. My tongue was rolled back

and I choked, hoping someone would come to the room and notice what was going on.

I thought this was the end of my life and I was drifting away from consciousness till I heard my sisters voice, so far away yet so close.

‘Wunmi, Wunmi, wake up! Look at me’ She shook me, the fear etched in her voice. My brother ran out to call for help and I drifted into the enveloping darkness.

Back at the Village

Celebration is ongoing, Bottles of Gold spot, Sans, 33 Export are overflowing and everyone is in their agbada, iro and buba having the time of their lives. The MC is praising the children of the deceased while being sprayed 5, 10, 20 naira notes in bundles.

“I want to go home today Yinka, I cannot stay here anymore. Your family have pushed me enough and I do not have the energy to go back and forth with them. Wunmi has not been away from me this long and I have to see her and her elder ones.’

Wunmi’s mother told her husband who thought she was joking. She did not want to travel all the way to Ondo state as there had been bad blood between her and his sisters for years, but he thought this event was an avenue to make things work.

He wanted peace between his sisters and his wife. He knew his sisters were unbearable and wanted his wife to be a sub servant to them, his wife was a tough nut to crack and was not going to listen to those silly girls trying to benefit from the patriarchal society.

‘Busola you cannot be serious, you cannot go this late, look it’s 7pm. When do you what to get to Lagos? I am sure the children are fine; our neighbors are there to take care of them if anything comes up. Look, just enjoy this moment a bit.’

Looking around, he picked the bottle of Limca which was her favorite. ‘Here, take and drink. You love this Mineral. Do you want more food?’ He asked, hoping she would change her mind. ‘Look Yinka, I’m leaving now. If you don’t want to come with me, that is fine. Stay with your family.’ She strutted, leaving him gob smacked. He did not think she would actually leave right then.

He followed her and they packed their things, said a few goodbyes while his sisters eyed them from a distance.

Getting to the bus park, they luckily found a bus waiting to be filled by three more people. They got comfortable and soon enough their journey to Lagos ensued.

There was a brooding silence between them, Yinka was upset at his wife for leaving just few hours after the party started while Busola was upset he wanted to stay at the party and did not care about the children.

They reached Iju Ishaga on Sunday morning, and they took separate okada to the house. On getting to the beginning of the street, she could see people running and screaming. As they approached the crowd, she saw a child in the arms of her neighbor, with a spoon placed in between the lips, her face twisted from sympathy to horror as she realized this was Wunmi, unconscious and being rushed to the hospital on the street. She jumped from the okada, scraped her leg. With adrenaline still bursting, she ran

towards them and they all ran into the hospital.

The nurses on ground immediately rushed her into the emergency room, blocking everyone else from entering.

“What happened?” She screamed, hands in the air, spitting sorrow in sentence.

“I met her this way, I wanted to call her to eat breakfast when I saw she was not moving, we called Baba Tailor and we rushed her here.’

Yinka was stopped by the crowd who told him what happened. bewildered at the scenario, he hugged

his kids, thanked the neighbors for saving his daughter and hesitated to talk to Busola.

‘I knew there was something wrong. My mind was not at rest. I told you I wanted to leave. Se oti ri? Can you see’ She screamed , crying and shaking. Yinka held her in his arms are they cried, waiting for the result.

Forty minutes later, the doctor came out to address the crowd.

‘You are very lucky to have brought her when you did. She had a convulsion, but she is okay now. You can see her right away.’

Everyone thanked the doctor for her heroic acts while Yinka and Busola rushed to see Wunmi.

‘Can she hear us? Wunmi, can you hear us?’ I heard the faint whisper of my mother. Wait, my mom?

She was supposed to be in the village by now.

How long have I been at the hospital? I struggle to open my eyes, and I see my parents, Temi and Femi crowded beside my bed.

‘Olorun ose o, Thank you God.’ Mom hugged me tightly and everyone took turns hugging and smiling at

me.

For the next couple of weeks, I received so much doting a lower-class parent could give a child.

Neighbours came around with food and snacks for me. It was my first experience receiving such preferential treatment and this set a precedent for my next ‘difficulties’.