CHAPTER 2
The Travail of Dorcas
I brought the car gently to a stop at the verge of the road, by the intersection of the two routes. The point looks vaguely familiar, but I do not want to drive to a cul-de-sac and ask questions about the right way.
I could now drive a car straight to my compound in Nembe. It is a dream come true. We have heard about the Nembe road since we were kids. We were then not sure which direction it would be coming from, considering the numerous creeks, mangrove forests, and swamps spread throughout the landscape of the Niger Delta.
We have heard of this road as a fairy tale told by the elders in our village square on a moonlight night, like the stories about the tortoise and the lizard. Those who have hoped and waited for the emergence of this elusive road till their generation have all passed away.
The only way to come to Nembe and leave for any other part of the world then has been through water, by speed boats, and, or by Local ships – these are large wooden ferry boats that travel through the various network of creeks to any destination – sometimes spending over two days, meandering through these creeks, discharging their passengers in the many villages and fishing settlements dotting the various rivers and creeks.
I shuddered at the thought of those journeys, whenever I recall them. Why does it not look possible to me then, that one day, I will have to leave my village, and the fishing settlement to live in the city?
Sitting at the helm of our wooden canoe with my mother, going out to fish was what I was condemned to believe, as the best place for the woman.
This was what my father had believed the girl child should be.
