He Promised Me Work In Lagos, Na Trap I Enter (EPISODE 2)

EPISODE 2 – Cancer Killed My Mama on My Birthday

I used to love my birthday. At least, I thought I did.

Every year, my mother would wake up early, smiling even when her body was weak. She would still say, “Nkiru, come, make we thank God say you add another year.” Even when sickness had started to show on her face, she never complained.

That year, I turned twelve. I woke up excited, expecting at least a small celebration. Instead, the house was quiet. Too quiet. My mother didn’t call my name that morning.

By afternoon, everything changed. People were rushing in and out. My father was shouting. Neighbors gathered outside. Then I heard the words that still ring in my head today:

“She’s gone.”

My mother died that same day. My birthday.

They said it was cancer. The same sickness that killed my grandmother on the very day I was born. Two women. Two generations. Same illness. Same pattern.

At first, people pretended to sympathize. They brought food, sat around, and shook their heads. But not long after the burial, the whispers started again.

Some people stopped calling it cancer.
They started saying HIV/AIDS.

“That kind sickness no dey kill two people for one family like that,” they said.
“Better stay away, just in case.”

Slowly, people began to withdraw. Children were warned not to play with me. Women avoided sharing plates with us. Even some relatives stopped visiting.

I didn’t understand it then, but stigma had entered our house. And once stigma enters, it never leaves quietly.

From that day, my birthday stopped being a celebration. It became a reminder. A reminder that death seemed to follow my name.

Episode 3 Coming Soon
After my mother’s death, everything in our house changed — especially my father. And that was when I truly became alone.