The Girl with the Louding Voice(101)
“How are things with the doctor?” I ask Ms. Tia. I am walking a little faster, taller. “Better?”
“So much has happened,” she says with a sigh, “but I think we will pull through.”
“You think?” I ask, stopping to roof my eyes from the morning sun, to look into her face.
“I think.” She nods. “We have decided to explore something called adoption. Do you know what that is?”
I shake my head no and start to say I will check it in The Book of Nigerian Facts before I remember that I am leaving the book behind. That I am leaving this life behind and facing a new one.
“I will tell you about it,” Ms. Tia says as she takes my hand and holds it tight. “Because tomorrow will be better than today, right?”
At first, I am not giving her any answer.
My mind cannot be imagining a day better than today, with the endless blue-gray in the sky and the smell of new hope and new strength in the air, but I know another day will come when I will see Papa and Kayus and Born-boy, when I can visit Ikati with no fear, or maybe they can visit me.
A day will come when my voice will sound so loud all over Nigeria and the world of it, when I will be able to make a way for other girls to have their own louding voice, because I know that when I finish my education, I will find a way to help them to go to school.
A day will come when I will become a teacher, send money to buy Papa a car, or build a new house for him, or maybe I can even build a school in Ikati in the memory of my mama and of Khadija, and who knows what else tomorrow will bring? So, I nod my head yes, because it is true, the future is always working, always busy unfolding better things, and even if it doesn’t seem so sometimes, we have hope of it.
We begin the five minutes of walking to Ms. Tia’s house in the early-morning silence through the big black gates that I used to wipe four times a day with that thick yellow cloth in the kitchen, down Wellington Road with its houses full of screaming peacocks—the rich man’s fowl—and then finally into Ms. Tia’s compound, where the white house with a mirror on its roof is blinking, blinking at me as if to say, Welcome, Adunni, welcome to your new free.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank:
God, for every breath, for every word, for this gracious gift and for the ones to come.
Felicity Blunt, for all the hard work you poured into this. You are amazing and incredible and simply the best. Emma Herdman and Lindsey Rose, my spectacular editors on both sides of the Atlantic, who worked with me with deep kindness, courteousness, and consideration—thank you both for your excellent suggestions and patience while I worked through the edits. The fantastic team at Curtis Brown UK, ICM Partners, Scepter, and Dutton, including Jenn Joel, who championed and pushed this book in the US, Rosie Pierce, Melissa Pimentel, Claire Nozieres, Louise Court, Helen Flood, Amanda Walker, Jamie Knapp, Leila Siddiqui, and all the wonderful people who have worked, and continue to work, tirelessly for this book.
Caroline Ambrose, for creating the Bath Novel Award, for helping to birth destinies, and for working so hard to give writers like me a chance. Winning the Bath Novel Award in 2018 changed my life. Julia Bell, for those conversations in your office, or in class, and for selflessly driving the Best Workshop Group Ever. The Birkbeck MA #SuperGroup, for the crucial feedback and encouragement during our MA and for the many Thursday evenings since then. Professor Russell Celyn Jones, for reading the very first three thousand words, and for opening my eyes to the possibility of fulfilling a lifelong dream.
My precious family. Professor Teju Somorin, for advocating for and championing my advancement in every way. Engineer Isaac Daré, who always called me “Duchess,” because, in his eyes, I was royalty, and because he, despite his schedule, made time to read and give feedback on everything I ever wrote. Segs, who is rare and wonderful and everything in between. Yemi, who believed in me from day one, and my daughters, who are my heartbeat, and who inspired and informed this novel in many ways. Mrs. Modupe Daré, Mrs. Busola Awofuwa, Sis Toyin, Aunty Joke, Olusco, and the girls, for warm food to eat, for a word in season, for love and encouragement, and for all you do. Wura of Glitzallure Fabrics, for the last-minute, quick calls to educate me on fabrics. I love you all more than words can say.
Adunni, for sharing your world with me. You came at a time when I felt most frustrated in my writing journey. Hearing your first words in broken, desperate English, first as a whisper in my ears one morning, and then as a persistently loud voice for nearly three years after, changed everything for me, for you, and hopefully for girls like you. And to you, dear reader, for this journey, and hopefully for more to come.
Thank you.
A NOTE ON SOURCES
While The Book of Nigerian Facts: Past to Present is not a real book, the facts about Nigeria gathered in this book are all available online.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Abi Daré grew up in Lagos, Nigeria, and has lived in the UK for more than eighteen years. She studied law at the University of Wolverhampton and has an MSc in International Project Management from Glasgow Caledonian University as well as an MA in Creative Writing at Birkbeck, University of London. The Girl with the Louding Voice won the Bath Novel Award for unpublished manuscripts in 2018 and was also selected as a finalist in the 2018 Literary Consultancy Pen Factor competition. Abi lives in Essex with her husband and two daughters, who inspired her to write her debut novel.