The mistress and the legal wife

I lived on a remote island on the coast of Lafiya called Rayuwa. Lafiya is a country made up of four states. Fili State, Ruwa State, Gona State and Daji state. Rayuwa is part of Daji State, and the capital of Daji is Duniya. The proximity of Rayuwa to Duniya is near. Lafiya is a developed country, but although Rayuwa is a part of Lafiya, it lacks civilisation, and because of this, it serves as a tourist attraction for Lafiya, generating millions in revenue. In Rayuwa, there were no schools, no electricity, or water supply. People usually fetched water from the streams or dug wells in their compounds. The lack of civilisation made it impossible for us to access proper medical care, and because of this, my people sought the services of our local herbalists and witch doctors.

I was the only literate in my village, and I was fortunate to be so, thanks to the non-government organisation that opened when I was five. The owner took a liking to me and offered my parents to allow the teachers to teach me the foreign language and how to read and write in their tongue. My parents saw this as an opportunity for me to break free one day, so they accepted the offer. My parents always believed that enlightenment would bring freedom and development.

The teachers taught me for five years. The N.G.O. was eventually forced to leave because the witch doctors claimed that the deity was displeased with their teachings. At first, the people ignored their warning, but when famine struck the land, they sent the organisation packing, ending my education.

There was a loud silence in Rayuwa. Certain things were never discussed, but everyone knew it was forbidden for the people of Rayuwa to leave the island. The only person that was allowed that privilege was the Sarki and his family. It was believed that in the past, to bring about civilisation and development to Lafiya, the Island of Rayuwa and its people were sacrificed. They were to carry the burden of keeping the deities happy while prospering the land and the country. The price that Rayuwa paid for this responsibility was the ban on development. They were never to own anything that was not given to them by nature. In other words, outside knowledge and development were not allowed, and that was why the N.G.O. was sacked. Although Rayuwa was stuck in a time capsule, it was the most important place in Lafiya. The Sarki of Rayuwa was and still is the most powerful man in Lafiya. Nobody with political ambition could achieve anything without his blessing. People had been rumoured to try and escape the island, but they never made it. Some of them ended up as corpses washed onto the shores of Rayuwa. Soon people just stopped trying to leave the island.

My parents once dreamt that they would escape to Duniya, but for some reason, that dream never came to pass. They still hoped that I would achieve in my time what no one had been able to achieve so far. They always believed there was hope in the future, no matter how uncertain it may be.

Well, thirteen years later, I was still stuck on that backward island. Although some villages on the island welcomed some development like electricity and roads good enough for bicycles, they never developed beyond that. Very wealthy people could afford to build their houses from burnt bricks while the rest of us remained in our huts.

I had a job without applying for it; it was kind of forced on me. Since I was the only literate in the entire village, I wrote and read letters and newspapers for the wealthy people and the Sarki of Rayuwa. Because of this, I knew most of their secrets and was forced to swear an oath of secrecy with the help of a powerful witch doctor. My services were free when I started, but soon I saw an opportunity, a possibility of making and saving enough money to escape and live in the city of Duniya, and I took it.

I started charging for my services upon that realisation. Although my clients did not like the idea and thought me to be greedy and an ungrateful child, since they always managed to give me gifts for my services, they had no choice but to agree and start paying. I don't want you to see me as greedy and ungrateful either, but a tuber of yam, roasted chicken parts, lunch or dinner as payment would never have gotten me anywhere. Besides, I was not hungry. My mother was a successful farmer, while my dad was a lucky hunter.

Writing, reading, and translating were tedious and taxing to the brain, but nobody cared. There were days that I just wanted to stay indoors and pretend to be sick, hoping no one would bother me, but unfortunately, my selfish clients would make me work for them at my house on my 'sick' bed. They would say they were being considerate by letting me work from home because I usually would have had to go to their homes to render my services.

My life was very dull. When I was not working, I dreamed of leaving my village for the city, using my ability to bring about change that would positively impact my people and the island. I would dream of meeting Mr Right, marrying him, having children, and living happily ever after.

I knew many career choices one could have if properly educated. Though I was literate, I was not educated; those choices were not open to me. The best job I could get in the city would be domestic, and although I would not make much, I could survive on it till I achieved my goals. I had it all planned out, but as we all know, planning was easy; the execution was the hardest part. This is my story.