Half of a Yellow Sun

Dr. Nwala raised his willowy body from his seat and came around to shake her hand. "Ola

"How are you, doctor?"

"We are managing," he said, and patted Baby's shoulder. "How are you?"

"Very well. Okeoma visited us last week."

"Yes, he stayed a day with me." He was staring at her, but she felt as if he were not listening, as if he were not really there. He looked lost.

"Baby has been coughing for some days now," Ola

"Oh." He turned to Baby. He placed the stethoscope on her chest and murmured ndo as she coughed. When he walked over to the cupboard to look through some bottles and packets of medicine, Ola

"I'll give you a cough syrup, but she needs antibiotics and I'm afraid we've run out," he said, staring at her again, in that odd way that locked his eyes with hers. His expression was filled with melancholy fatigue. Ola

"I'll write a prescription and you can try one of those people who trade, but it should be somebody reliable, of course."

"Of course," Ola

"Very good."

"You should come and visit us when you have time," Ola

"Yes." He took her hand in his and held it for a little too long.

"Thank you, doctor."

"For what? I can't do much." He gestured toward the door, and Ola

Ola

Mrs. Muokelu was in front of her classroom fiddling with the bell. The thick black hair on her arms and legs, the fuzz on her upper lip, the curled strands on her chin, and the squat muscular limbs often made Ola

"Do you know where I can buy antibiotics, my sister?" Ola

Mrs. Muokelu hummed for a while to show that she was thinking. His Excellency's face glared from the fabric of the boubou she wore everyday; she often a

"Anybody can sell medicine, but you don't know who is mixing chalk in his backyard and calling it Nivaquine," she said. "Give me the money and I will go to Mama Onitsha. She is authentic. She will sell you Gowon's dirty pant if you pay the right price."

"Let her keep the pant and just give us medicine." Ola

Mrs. Muokelu smiled and picked up the bell. "I saw a vision yesterday," she said. Her boubou was too long for her short body; it dragged along the ground and Ola

"What was the vision?" Ola

"Traditional warriors from Abiriba used their bows and arrows and finished the vandals in the Calabar sector. I makwa, children were walking over their bones to go to the stream."

"Really," Ola

"It means Calabar will never fall," Mrs. Muokelu said, and began to ring the bell. Ola

That evening, when Mrs. Muokelu brought the antibiotic capsules wrapped in newspaper, Ola

"This is my twin sister. She lives in Port Harcourt."

"Your twin!" Mrs. Muokelu exclaimed, fingering the plastic half of a yellow sun that she wore on a string around her neck. "Wonders shall never end. I did not know you were a twin, and, nekene, she does not look like you at all."

"We have the same mouth," Ola

Mrs. Muokelu glanced at the photo again and shook her head. "She does not look like you at all," she repeated.

The antibiotics yellowed Baby's eyes. Her coughing got better, less chesty and less whistling, but her appetite disappeared. She pushed her garri around her plate and left her pap uneaten until it congealed in a waxy lump. Ola

These African states have fallen prey to the British-American imperialist conspiracy to use the committee's recommendations as a pretext for a massive arms support for their puppet and tottering neocolonialist regime in Nigeria…

"That's right!" Odenigbo said, buttoning his shirt with quick movements.

On the bed, Baby stirred. Her face had lost its fat and was eerily adult, sunken and thin-ski

"Baby won't make it," she said quietly.

Odenigbo stopped and looked at her. He turned the radio off and came over and held her head against his belly. Because he said nothing at first, his silence became a confirmation that Baby would die. Ola

"It's only normal that she doesn't have an appetite," he said finally. But his tone lacked the certitude she was used to.

"Look how much weight she's lost!" Ola

"Nkem, her cough is getting better and her appetite will come back." He began to comb his hair. She was angry with him for not saying what she wanted to hear, for not assuming the power of fate and telling her that Baby would be well, for being normal enough to continue to dress for work. His kiss before he left was quick, not the usual lingering press of lips, and that too she held against him. Tears filled her eyes. She thought about Amala. Amala had made no contact with them since the day at the hospital but she wondered now if she would be expected to tell Amala if Baby were to die.

Baby yawned and woke up. "Good morning, Mummy Ola." Even her voice was thin.

"Baby, ezigbo nwa, how are you?" Ola