A Woman's Wish

"So the matter is settled," Ulea spoke, the eldest of the four sisters present and the family matriarch. "Lesinga is four months pregnant. We have time to work out the details."

The four sisters were gathered in Malia's living room, cluttered with Samoan artefacts: wooden spears and axes, and portraits of various family members, decorated with leis made of flowers and sea shells.

The women wore brightly coloured puletasis, the traditional dresses hanging to their ankles. Their feet were bare, resting on straw mats, covering the floors, while their shoes littered the doorway.

Ulea turned to Malia, Lesinga's mother and asked, "But what of the boy?"

Malia, who had been sitting quietly, waiting to be spoken to, shook her head. "Gone."

The sisters tutted, shaking their heads. Alisi spoke next, "A palangi. What was she thinking, pregnant to a white boy?"

"Ioanna." Ulea turned to me and asked, "What do you think?"

I looked up from the floor with trepidation, not expecting to be asked my opinion so directly. I was the youngest of the four and rarely asked to contribute to these meetings. My slender body, I had noticed earlier with bitterness, was in stark contrast to that of theirs. They were mothers, I was not.

I cleared my throat before answering. "If you think this is best, then I thank you. Herman and I will raise the child."

The elders, content that the matter was in their eyes settled, began to gather their belongings to depart. Their children, danced around them, picking up handbags as instructed and collecting empty tea cups and delivering them to the kitchen.

I kissed them each goodbye, and waited until their cars had reversed down the drive way and out onto the street, before collapsing heavily into a lounge chair.

"Where is she?" I asked.

Malia, bearing a tray of two freshly made cups of tea and keke, placed them on the coffee table gently before replying. "She is coming."

I leaned forward towards the table and picked up a cup of tea and a biscuit. I had butterflies in my stomach and could see that my hands were shaking. I tried to steady the tea on my knee.

"Mum?" Lesinga appeared quietly in the doorway, "You wanted me?"

I studied her belly. My eyes took in the large jumper that hung almost to her knees.

"Lesinga," Malia began. "A decision has been made about your baby."

Lesinga began to chew on her fingernails, not budging from the doorway.

"You cannot raise this child on your own," Malia continued. "The family have decided. Aunty Ioanna will raise the child."

My hand, holding my cup of tea, paused midway to my mouth. I studied my niece's reaction.

Could I do it? Could I take away my niece's child and become its mother?

Tears rolled down her face but she did not wipe them away. She wanted me to see them.

Malia leaned towards her daughter and took her hand. "How will you raise this child on your own? You're only fifteen?"

Lesinga's little body began shaking with silent hiccups.

I fidgeted on my seat and began chewing my upper lip; I contemplated what to say to her.

"Lesinga." I couldn't meet her eyes. "I would be a good mother to your child. Your Uncle and I, we would give it a good home."

Lesinga clenched her jaw and shook her head. I looked at Malia, who dropped my niece's hand.

"No." Lesinga whispered. "This is my child."

She would have another. She could have another. I didn't have that choice. This was my one and only opportunity to be a mother.

"The family have decided Lesinga. We know what is best for you," my sister explained.

Lesinga dropped her head in her hands, her fingers pressing against her temple.

My eyes fell automatically to her belly again and began to well. I blinked furiously at the ceiling, willing away the tears, trying to compose myself.

My heart was breaking, but I wasn't sure which was worse. The possibility of my becoming a mother, yet again, dissolving into thin air, or the fact that me, fighting for my dream, for my chance, was breaking my niece into a million little pieces. My heart or hers?

Was it really that simple? Was this all that was required of me, in order to have what had been denied for so long?

I watched her for a few minutes, finding it hard to breathe, struggling within myself to either comfort her or fight.

Decide. Make up your mind.

I took a few deep breaths and whispered. "Lesinga, this child, to me, is everything. God willing, you will have a long life with lots of children. I'm not that lucky, I don't have that choice. This baby, this could be my baby. My child. My time to become a mother."

Malia sighed, unfolding herself from the couch, she walked over to her daughter and placed a hand on her shoulder. She stood in silence for a few minutes, her eyes closed as if she were meditating.

Lesinga turned towards her mother and buried her face in her shoulder. Her slender arms, held her mother tightly around her neck, squeezing her argument into her. A lot can be said with mere actions. I knew straight away what was going on.

I could break her. I could break her with what I wanted, and my attempts to make my dream come true.

Malia's voice startled me from my thoughts. "Ioanna, my child wants her baby."

My hands gripped the armrests of the lounge chair as I sucked in a breath. My mouth, opened and closed silently, before I could find a response. "The sisters decided Malia. You convinced them this was best. I would never have suggested this. "

"What do you want me to do?" Her arms still cradled her daughter, like a newborn babe. "Rip the baby from her arms after childbirth and just hand it over?"

I shook my head violently and laughed. My niece had turned her head, ever so slightly, in her mother's arms to study me.

I couldn't bear to look at her, and see the pity in her eyes. I was begging my niece, barely a woman, a mere child, to grant me my wish.

Lesinga let go of her mother and took a tentative step toward me. "Aunty, I can't be the answer to your prayers. Don't ask that of me."

A tear rolled down my face. I wiped it away quickly, embarrassed to let her see how important this had been to me. I couldn't bear to let another person watch me crumble.

I looked at the floor. It was gone. Again. The hope. It was gone.

Author: Louise Lesoa

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