Sealed Graves IV

Thanks guys for the comments, really appreciate...but I really would appreciate your CRITIQUING more! So, here's the fourth installment, things take a turn and the story unfolds..enjoy!!
SEALED GRAVES ©

“Goli-be! Golibe o!” Mama’s shrill voice broke into my reverie. “Yes Mama” I answered, standing from the steps I had been sitting on and brushing the sand grains from the back of my dress. “Je kwado, anyi ne je uka Go and prepare, we’re going to church” she called from inside the house. “O” I answered. “Hurry, the women’s meeting starts soon” she shouted. I walked into the house, headed for my room and emerged minutes later “Mama, I’m ready”I said as I made a bow at the back of my head with the tail ends of my scarf and walked into Mama’s room. “Ok” she replied, “Carry my bag” she said handing me her big black leather bag. “Mama, it is raining o!” I said as I collected her bag. She looked up at me from her mirror, momentarily stopped plaiting her hair and answered “ I che na enwero m anya? Do you think I do not have eyes?” In response, I sat silently in a chair watching her as she braided her hair into cornrows, my wounds still smarting from her biting sarcasm and wondering why we had to attend the meeting despite the rain and the road that would be undoubtedly slippery.
We got to church half-wet with our rain boots dripping and muddy. This was not the kind of rain people went out in except it was an emergency, despite the huge umbrella Mama and I had shared, it had still felt like the rain was flogging us, its long strokes had beaten me tirelessly and mercilessly. “Ah...Mama Golibe, welcome” Mama Chidinma greeted, she sat at the head of the meeting and signaled for us to come to her, her hands pointing out the seats to her far right. The women sat in a circle around her and as we walked to our seats they turned to us and gave us sympathetic looks, their heads inclined towards us nodding in both greeting and commiseration. Mama and I took our seats and Mama Chidinma began “Christian mothers I greet you!” “We greet you too” the women replied. “Our agenda today is short” she continued. “We will discuss plans and fund-raising for our annual bazaar, the state of our financial affairs, and relief for our widows and orphaned children” she finished. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me and Mama, Mama was tapping her fingers on the inside of her lap; it was either anxiety or infuriation, I could not tell. Mama Nkechi, the secretary began “Mama Golibe, on behalf of the Christian mothers I offer our condolences….” It was infuriation, Mama stood up from her chair abruptly, jerking the chair and simultaneously pulling me to my feet. “We don’t want your pity! My husband has been dead for three months, we don’t want salt in our wound!” she shouted and dragged me out of the church. We left the women open-mouthed and speechless, Mama had dragged me outside the church, so we sat outside and the rain still fell; unyielding and incessant. I listened to the pitter-patter of the rain as it hit the corrugated iron sheets and Mama muttering under her breath. Suddenly, she opened up her umbrella “Let’s go Golibe” she said and so I followed. I would never forget that walk home, it was long and arduous and the beginning of a chapter in my life I could never quite tackle or close.

**Next Thursday, is the final installment, ending the story..so click here on thur and bring your critique hats along!