Posted in State of Mind

Empire State of Mind

I don’t know why I started this particular post. Unlike my other posts, I think and restructure my words before I write.
I don’t think there is an English word that can describe how I’m feeling at the moment. I’m not happy but I’m not sad either. I want to talk to someone but also I don’t want to. I feel a sense of obligation to him but I’m also angry at him. I’m supposed to feel a sense of accomplishment but why do I just feel hopeless and useless. 
I can feel him coming; nearer and nearer

I hear his heavy footsteps on the walls of my heart

Man’s worst sickness he is called,

Each step he takes forward drives me further into emptiness

I have escaped his clutches for far too long

I dillied and dallied hoping to find succour some other way

I bathed with the soap of excitement and water of passion

And now I’m sinking but there’s not a hook to grab on to.
My dreams have turned into my worst nightmares,

My hopes and aspirations uprooted forcefully from the ground while still a seedling
I hear the voices saying “don’t limit yourself with your present situation”

But how can I not? I dare you to walk a day in my shoes.

Then maybe the reality of my situation will change your opinion.
I’m tempted to say you left me alone

But they say angels are watching over me all night and all day

I want to believe that, because if I am not able to believe;

Then I’m letting go of the last thread of my sanity.

Posted in Little Steps

Days Of The Future Past (Part 2)

Miss H: “I want to tell you something. I’m very shy I don’t know how to say it. It’s a story of molestation.”

I had always been careful with my emotions, trying to always keep a straight poker face and appear emotionless. I couldn’t this time around. My mouth dropped open in shock.

Miss H: “You know that time I was small that I used to be a mumu. That time when I used to be very foolish, there was this boy in my class when I was in Primary 1, he used to beat me and beat me everytime and after beating me he will now put his hand inside my pant and be touching me there”

Me: Did you tell anyone then.

Miss H: “No, I didn’t. I was too scared. It continued for a while so one day mummy had a bad dream about it and came to ask me if anything was happening at school. I then told her everything while crying. This was in the midnight. She then told daddy and he carried cane to flog me. I’m a bad person daddy said. I’m committing evil and wickedness and I’m sinning. Daddy told me to kneel down for a long time until my knees ached. The next school day, mummy carried me to the headmaster and proprietress and told them everything. The headmaster and proprietress then called me and the boy in front of the whole class and flogged us mercilessly. I was only five years old. Aunty, I know it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t do anything. I don’t know why mummy treated me like that. Even if she was archaic back then, why hasn’t she come now to say sorry and apologise to me about it.”

I was in a fit of rage by that point. Violent pulses were coursing through my veins. I had finally understood the words of William Congreve “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”. All I could feel was hatred towards Miss H’s mummy. I didn’t know that such hatred existed in me. I don’t know if I should confront her or not. I feel like if I do, she might justify her actions and make it worse. The only question I could ask is Why?

Why would she destroy a young girl’s life and perception of herself and her body forever?

Why would she take the matter to her husband who verbally abused her daughter?

Why would she turn a blind side to the fact that her daughter was abused?

Why will a mother let her abused daughter get punished after the psychological trauma her daughter has been through?

Why did God choose to give this precious little girl to those kind of parents?

Why after all these years, when the mother has become extremely enlightened, why didn’t she come back to talk to her little girl?

It’s okay to make mistakes as a parent. But it’s also okay to right your wrongs.

Posted in State of Mind

The Pledge

I apologise to those that this post doesn’t concern but I just needed to vent. Due to unforeseen circumstances, you see I’m now going to put furthering my degree on hold and serve my “beloved” country for a year. You see it is compulsory for every Nigerian to serve their country after their university education before you can work or do anything in the country. I wouldn’t be so miffed about serving my country if my country was actually a place. My “beloved” country hasn’t done anything for me. I didn’t attend any public schools, I haven’t received any benefits from the government, my parents aren’t even pensioners, the public hospitals are more or less shite so Private practice was the way forward, public amenities are in deplorable conditions, you live in fear everyday for your life. So why should I be forced to waste a year of my life to serve my country. I can’t even go into the detail of the “abuse” you’ll get in the name of serving your country especially if you had made a “mistake” and schooled abroad. It kinda reminds me of our national pledge that was twisted around when we were kids;
“I pledge to Nigeria my country, to be disloyal, dishonest and unfaithful. To serve Nigeria is not by force…”
You see back then we took it as a child’s joke. But honestly now, I do not see why I should be loyal to my country or why I should serve Nigeria with all my heart.

Posted in Little Steps

Days Of The Future Past (Part 1)

It’s amazing how the brain works. Sometimes we think we’ve forgotten memories ten or fifteen years past, or probably we deceive our minds into thinking it’s been buried and forgotten. But then one day, just the way a woman’s period comes unannounced, it whips itself out of oblivion and into reality to torment us.
I’m finding it extremely difficult to write now because my story involves someone who is very dear to me. Her name is Miss H. I’ve always felt overprotective of her to borderline pampering, I’ve never known why. Maybe because I didn’t want her to turn out the way I did or because I wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone. However, as hard as I tried, I still failed and miserably at that.

Miss H is well into her teen years now and she just told me a shocking story of what happened to her while I was away in boarding school. You see Miss H back then was timid. She was the very definition of prude. I always wondered why she was that way no matter how hard I tried to “change” her. Now all the pieces fall into place and I see why. Miss H was bullied, abused, sexually molested and then was punished at just age 5.

My ink is running dry, I’ll continue later folks.

Posted in Memoirs

And The Man Died…

Everything started well. There was an immeasurable amount of ecstasy. The kind you feel when you just won the lotto. Big business plans were made, papers were signed. It looked like a wham bang slam done kind of deal. But then the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months and slowly I noticed him going as sour as an orange harvested in the dry season. I never knew what it meant to him till I saw him. He and I had been apart for so long, only speaking through calls and it’s relatively easy to mask your pain on the phone. I did notice the dourness a few times but I brushed it off as undue worry.I’m wondering why I care, maybe because he’s my benefactor or maybe because generally I don’t like to witness “good” people suffering. His sighs and moans have become the only music I hear each day, in his temper I find solace because then I know he’s still alive and capable of showing emotions. 

I don’t want to ever be in his shoes someday. I don’t want to ever feel like I’ve failed my family.

I don’t want to ever feel that if I die tomorrow, I wouldn’t leave a lasting legacy for the people I’ve left behind.