“This life,” some would say, “is not balance at all.”
From childhood, you are told to be of good behaviour. You are verbally corrected when you do something wrong and flogged if you don’t listen.
You are taught to always be in school before the bell for morning assembly goes off.
You are encouraged to learn your schoolwork so you can become one of the best pupil/student.
You do that and become one of the top 5 students in your school.
Your classmates love you; your teachers adore you; your principal is proud to have you in the school.
At home, you are a good girl. Even though you are a popular jingo that every other girl wants to have in her corner, you only hang out with fellow good girls like you who go to church and wear their skirts past their knees.
You are properly trained in domestic chores: you clean the house so well, help both Num and Dad witg errands and when you cook, even your neighbours in the next compound start to hail you.
When you get into the University, your lifestyle does not change one bit. If anything, you become more strict with your way of living. You live your life in a manner the shape of a square: school, church, market, home.
No parties or partying for you because that First Class is your target so there must be no distraction.
You graduate school with your First Class and not long after you finished your NYSC, you get a good job with a huge salary. You start to go out during weekends now because mummy calls you these days to remind you not to waste time in finding a good man.
You meet a good man, you both fall in love and you get married.
Six months, seven months, nine, one year, two years… and you are yet to so much as conceive. You start to worry. You and hubby go from one hospital to the other, doing different tests.
Finally, the doctors give you their diagnosis: polycystic ovary syndrome and may never be able to bear your own children.
You walk out of the doctor’s office and the hospital, resisting every urge to burst into tears. It is then you see her!
Standing in the car park is that lady who was the campus ashewo back in the University! The one who it was rumoured had had sex with so many male students and lecturers even. The one who openly boasted about her abortions. The one who turned up at every party on campus. The bad girl.
She is holding in her arms a beautiful healthy baby boy and two young girls are laughing at her side, calling, “Mummy! Mummy!” while she tries in vain to shush them up with the hand on which she has her wedding ring finger.
You cannot explain how you feel but nevertheless you manage to avoid meeting her as you make your way to your car.
When you get home, you throw yourself across the bed and dissolve in tears. Why? Why? You were the good girl! Why do bad things happen to good people? Why is life so cruel and unfair?