By Bunmi Sofola

IT’S the season of parties now the rains are almost gone. One would have thought that the economic situation would slow down the affluence flaunted at these show-stopping parties, but ‘the show must go on’! But I suddenly found myself at a loose end after a string of “party-till-you-drop” outings.

It was one of the moments that I felt glad to have absolutely nothing to do, so I could have one of my ‘me’ times. Linda chose this time to all. A real tom-boy, she had a plum job at an airline about 10 years ago, and her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at her good fortune.

“Can you imagine it, sis, me an air hostess!” She had said dreamily over and over again. “I can’t begin to imagine all the places I shall be visiting…the rich people I’ll be rubbing shoulders with, the food and clothes. I shall die of happiness oh … “ On and on she went that I wondered if she would be able to contain her excitement before she joined the airline.

The excitement soon wore off after a few years —but I was regaled with all her adventurous journeys and encounters. Her life seemed so carefree that I almost wished I were in her shoes. Coming back to Nigeria with tit-bits to sell, and silly things to give out like boxes of chocolates and cornflakes—things that cost peanuts abroad but cost an arm and a leg here.

Suddenly, all of my friends abroad seemed to live next door as Linda ferried goods from here to them in exchange for their own freebies too. All too soon though, the bubble burst. It took about three years. I was in my room, battling with a particular tricky write-up when Linda’s presence was announced.

Grabbing at the chance to relax, I quickly abandoned all I was doing to join Linda in the sitting room. One look at her wiped the expectant look off my face. I’d expected her to be laden with carriers of goodies only to be greeted with a forlorn look. “Sis, I’m pregnant!” She spat before I could ask her what the matter was. Pregnant? So what was the big deal? Was she keeping the pregnancy? She merely shrugged when I asked that question.

Did the father know? “I don’t know who the father is!” she said resignedly. What kind of responsibility do these younger girls often saddle me with? They come with mind-bugging problems convinced I would always have the perfect solution. This was definitely tricky.

“Tell me about it’, I sighed.”I got carried away by the glamour of my job,” she told me, totally resigned to her fate. “The other girls, who’d been hostesses long before me, took under  their wings and we did the round of parties and clubbing. It was relatively easy to pick up rich passengers in

first class who were always eager for fun nights. Naturally, some of the wild night-outs ended up in strange bedrooms, with me drunk most of the time. When the rumps first started, I’d been extremely careful and used condoms, which we sometimes got free anyway. But as I got more into the swing of things, and the drinks kept flowing, my morals had grown looser.

The condoms I’d been careful to carry and use; to start with, now stayed in  their packets. Unfortunately, the men I was with didn’t care either way if I offered condoms or not, and I became far too adventurous to care. I was behaving in an irresponsible way, of course, but somehow, when you’re abroad, things like that don’t matter so much. I was a pulling machine and having the best time of my life.

“With the nausea I started having a few months ago, I called off sick, thinking it was a running stomach. It was another hostess who hinted I could be pregnant and encouraged me to get a testing kit from the chemist.

When the result became positive, I wanted to die. I’d lost count of the number of men I’d gone to bed with and anyone of them could be the dad! There and then, I made up my mind to get rid of the pregnancy as soon as I got back to Nigeria. But when I eventually did, I was scared to contemplate

an abortion. If I’d had a man with me, it would have been easier. But it’s no picnic for a girl alone to seek an abortion no matter how enlightened she is. Now I’m over four months gone and my doctor said he could do it, but it would be risky … “  We debated the options she had for most of the night but nothing was resolved. I didn’t hear from her again until the day she called that she had a daughter that was then a month old.

Now, Lucy, her adorable, highly intelligent daughter was five and Linda was planning a party for her friends. She wanted me to be there. A few of us were in her living room enjoying the usual gossip when Lucy, who was impatiently waiting for her guests to arrive came over to me to show me some scrawny looking drawing she’d just finished.

“And who might this be?” I asked, teasing her. “Mum!” she said proudly, Linda was chuffed as she snatched the drawing from her. “Cool!” she shrieked. ‘’You did this for mummy?” The poor girl looked at her mum as if she’d lost it. “It’s just you and me,” she reminded Linda. “I could have drawn a daddy, but I don’t have one to draw.”

Hearing those innocent words was so heart wrenching. Poor Lucy had never known who her father was and neither had her mum. Linda had passed on the story that the dad was a boyfriend who didn’t want to know after he found out she was pregnant. Poor Linda has now landed another job far less glamorous than her air hostess one —but she is a good mum and proud of her daughter.

‘’What hurts is not being a single mother”, Linda sighed sadly as Lucy skipped off to meet a few of her friends who just came in, “it is not knowing who the father of my baby really is … “