MOMENTS WITH GEORGE : THE UNTOLD PAIN

                                         Story of Rape and Love and Pain.
                                                           ************

After secondary school in 2011, I waited a year before I wrote jamb. I needed rest from the rigorous Waec and Neco exams I had written. There was this bright girl in our street, 2poles away from our compound. She attended an all girls school and hardly had time for boys. She didn't even talk to boys.
No matter the swag we all try to put up in order to impress her she wasn't falling for our ploys nor schemes. She just wasn't feeling us. In those days, 2go was rampant almost everyone had a 2go account, getting this girl's 2go username was more difficult than wining an American lottery. The few boys that had the audacity to try talk to her received their own share of her indifference, she showed us levels.

We stopped seeing her in the street. In our corner where would gather and talk, gist about our escapades on 2go. We kept out an eye for her. She wouldn't coming walking past us, this continued for some time till we got the gist that she was admitted to study a course that wasn't mentioned in the University of Port Harcourt. Particularly I was challenged, others were bitter. The girl would surely show us more levels now that she's in school. From that day, I resolved to get into school the next year. I admired the girl, being admitted into school at such a young age was a feat. Inside my heart I wished to be her. Few months passed before I saw her again. She wasn't looking like the girl we all used to know. She was always looking sad and was more quiet than she was. She was looking like someone who was fighting a battle inside.
There was this one time I saw her on her balcony as she sat staring into space as tears trickled down her face our eyes jammed, she got up and went inside.

A guy in my clique of friends came to us one day. Telling us he had the story of the century. A story that would break the street. We all gathered that evening, about 6 to 8 boys. Stories was what we lived for.  He told us that he heard from a reliable source that the girl is pregnant. We were shocked, some opened their mouths in awe. He said his cousin who schools in UniPort told him that what the girl does in Port Harcourt is to run after men in big cars and grace the bed of lecturers  and students alike. He dropped another bombshell "she doesn't even know the father". We all shouted, I shook my head. A girl I had so much believe in and admired. From there she lost all respects we gave her. She became like an ordinary local girl to us. We didn't need to verify the story. What was said in the quadrangle was always "from a reliable source".

Days ran into weeks, weeks turned into months. The girl was still at home and she rarely came outside. We hadn't seen her for some time now. We concluded that she was pregnant and her parents had kept her inside in a bid to hide it. The news rocked the whole street truly, parents used the girl as an example to stubborn kids warning them that if they didn't change their ways they would end up like her. I felt bad and disappointed in her. I pitied her still. Such a young promising girl subject to that much stigmatization.
She gave birth about the time I gained admission. Before I left for school my parents admonished me not to go and disgrace our family's name just like her. They used the girl as an example in all the advice they dished out to me,

I came back home after the first semester break. I was the big attraction in the street. I didn't come back with a bad report as the last big star of the street. I gained respect the respect of my boys and girls alike.
One day while I was running an errand for my parents I saw her again, trying to put a baby to sleep. I went over to her, she was now looking like her normal self, beautiful as she had always been.

I walked up to her, the baby was crying and I the young mother was singing to the baby, it seemed the more she sang the more the baby cried. I was a few feet away from mother and child when the girl started sobbing, in between sobs she would say "I curse the men who raped me and brought you into this world to make me suffer". Still as she cursed I saw a mother who loved her child even under stringent conditions.
"hello" I said jerking her back into life.
"Fine baby, how are you" I touched the baby cheek
The baby cooed and stopped crying.
"look at you, you are so big" the girl spoke.
"it's God o, you ain't looking bad yourself".
From there on, we started talking. I got to know her more and her "predicament". She still kept the rape aspect away from me oblivious that I already heard her. 

For weeks I would visit her. I grew a liking for her maybe cause  of her condition. One thing was sure, I pitied her. In those weeks we became close, she told me I was the only friend she had, the street had ostracised her. My parents got wind of my visits, there weren't happy. Her parents told me to keep a distance as their daughter was "broken and on her way to recovery" she didn't need a guy in her life to disrupt that process. 

The holidays were gradually coming to an end. Despite warnings to stay away from her I still visited her. I would she excitement in her eyes when I visited.  I loved playing with her daughter who looked very much like her. The little baby had come to know me and wouldn't cry if I carried her.

"today will be the last I see you"

"yes you told me,  you'll be going to school"

"will you be fine?"

"(I laughed), obviously"

"I mean it, will you be fine?"

"what do you want me to say, I'll be okay, you have to resume school"

"I'll keep in contact with you always"

"okay, try and be serious in school, you don't want to end up like me"

"you're sounding ridiculous now".

"yeah, heard that one over and over, they even said I'm a witch have you heard that one?"

She started sobbing . I sat where I was.

"do you know I was raped?"

(silence) I didn't talk.

" I asked you a question".

"No" I said

"I was raped on my way back from night classes"

She paused to wipe her eyes. I moved closer to her.

"3 guys, they raped me and left me for dead, that's how I got pregnant with her". She pointed to her baby lying in her crib.

"I'm sorry" I muttered, I crossed my hand and placed it on her shoulder. I didn't know what else to do. She smiled.

"apart from my parents you're the only one that knows"

"thank you for trusting me" I said.

"after the incident, I contemplated suicide, when they found out I was pregnant, I wanted to die. I wanted to terminate the baby, but I thought against it. Terminating the pregnancy meant the rapist had won the second time. So, I carried my cross" she pointed again at her baby.

"you're crying" she said.

"oh it's nothing, I'm just sad that people judged you without hearing your story"

"people tend to say things that make them feel good"

"why don't you let them know your story, at least they would stop judging you"

"pls don't tell anyone they should judge me. Of what good is it that I tell them now?"

I didn't say anything. I looked at the baby and wondered where the beast of a dad is now. Probably brewing the next evil he's to carry out in his heart.

I left her house that night feeling that admiration I felt for her return. What I felt for her became stronger. I needed to be with her. To nurse her through this rough path in her life. "She is broken and recovering" I need to be with her through the process.
She's strong. I need to be stronger for us.













                                                                                                      ..........................................Chronicler: Uzoma Anieto

WHAT I DID TO MY WIFE FOR EIGHT YEARS AND NOW I AM IN REGRET..

We had a baby! A little baby boy who finally arrived in our lives after nine long months of waiting. I was still exhilarated with the way his little hand had wrapped around my finger. But the joy was short lived. As we waited to get back home after the delivery, we were jolted with unknown complications my wife had developed; a blood disorder that threatened to take her life away.

I had the baby in one hand and my other hand outstretched holding my wife’s. I was dumbfounded and wrecked as she was wheeled away for scans and tests. My happiness and my new family life turned upside-down in the span of a few short hours. I was forced to be functional even as this unexpected shock hit us. My wife is my rock, but I had to stand strong without her. I had to stand strong for her. All of it felt completely out of place.

When you fear for your loved ones, you usually fear the worst. I wasn’t an exception. I was beginning to think, if only I could turn back all those years and live every moment with her…

We have all lived with this moronic assumption that gadgets and social media bring people closer, but I have seen it wreck face to face interactions even in the most important relationship of my life. Thanks to my work and my gadgets, I had spared no time for my wife. It took a jolt to realise her importance in my life – a jolt that I don’t even wish upon my worst enemy.

My wife and I have known each other for over eight years. It started off as friendship, then love, and finally marriage. On the surface, it seemed like we were progressing, but the sad truth was how we had slipped into a slow degeneration. We stopped interacting and lacked time for each other. No, no. I stopped interacting and I lacked time for her.

I have always been someone who is not socially adept, and speaks less. And she is the complete opposite. When I returned from work, I spent more time on the laptop and mobile phone. She would be so upset about how we had drifted apart. But I mostly dismissed these notions, believing that couples must forego romance for practicality as marriages progress. I was so wrong.

A year ago, we moved to the United States for work. With no friends or family around us, we only had each other. It brought us closer. For the first time in eight years, I was beginning to realise how much I had missed out on. I had such a wonderful partner. My best friend was at home, and I had looked everywhere for emotional support when the chips were down. If only I had put that laptop or phone aside and spoken to her, I wouldn’t have greyed so early. The arrival of the baby brought us closer still. I was rediscovering my love for her. And I wanted to make up for seven years of neglect. That is when it struck like a lightning. Our moments of loving togetherness suddenly seemed like they would disappear forever.

I just wish… I just wish I had switched off that phone while she was talking to me, turned off that cricket match. I wish I hadn’t replied to that office email late at night and listened to her talk about how her day instead. I could’ve even stayed up long enough to keep her company while she cleaned up the kitchen. I should’ve held back my hunger so I could dine with her.

What wouldn’t I do to get back every minute that I didn’t get to spend with her? You always regret everything in hindsight. I couldn’t get anything back. As my wife was being wheeled back into yet another room in the hospital, the doctor wore a grim expression. My face was flushed, heart thumping. The doctor told us that the situation was serious… but curable. Relief rushed over me in a huge wave. But I was still scared. I was still bloody terrified of losing the most wonderful woman in my life.

That’s when I decided – I don’t care about what happens; I won’t let the woman of my life go away, at any cost. I sat down next to my wife with tears in my eyes. And I told her,

“We are going to fight this out. We have to see him grow and walk into the sunset together”.

She had never seen me cry, before now. Her eyes welled up too, but she wouldn’t show it. She knew it would break me. I was fighting tears, but I couldn’t. Here is the love of my life, who has almost left me. Here is my son, who might never see the most amazing woman of his life.

Right now, she is undergoing a long and painful treatment. I sit beside her for hours while she gets her IVs done. I don’t flinch. It doesn’t seem to bore me. I hate remembering the past, how I couldn’t even sit for 10 minutes just to talk to her. I don’t think I can ever make it up to her, but I’m trying to be a better husband.

I’m away from work, but it’s not occupying my mind. I don’t bother to check my emails. In the past, I wouldn’t ever miss responding to an email. But, right now, there are only two things that ring in my head – my wife and my kid. We haven’t had the chance to celebrate our son’s arrival in the past two weeks. But we know that this, too, shall pass and we will have a long and happy life together. This will only make us stronger. We are taking it slow and progress is made every day. But it’s a long haul.

I remember the lines of Robert Browning that I used to quote to impress my wife eight years back:

“Grow old along with me The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made;”

I didn’t understand it then. It took a tragic moment for me to realise the enormity of it.

I’m not giving a sermon here. But I hope everyone understands that WhatsApp can wait. An office email can wait. A cricket match can wait. Liking a photo on Facebook can wait. But don’t let your love and loved ones wait. You never know when it’s too late. Happiness is incomplete if you don’t have the right people to share it with. As I look at her sleep every night, I tell myself that every moment from here on is hers and I am going make it count. Others can wait. Even my son. Had it not been for my wife who urged me not to give up on my writing, I wouldn’t have penned this down either.

Cherish your loved ones, and give them what they deserve – it’s a hard lesson to learn if you take them for granted

CHARITY WRAPED IN DIGINTY

 

Kamsi on her way out for launch met an elderly egg seller and asked him, "How much are you selling the eggs for?" The old seller replied to her, "N30.00/- for one egg, Madam." She said to him, "I will take 6 eggs for N120.00/- or I will leave." 

 

 

The old seller replied, "Come take them at the price you want. May God bless us, and maybe this is a good beginning because I have not yet sold to anyone." Kamsi took took the eggs and walked away feeling she has won. She got into her fancy car and went to pick her friend, and invited her to a restaurant. She and her friend sat down and ordered what they like. They ate a little and left a lot of what they ordered. Then she went to pay the bill. The bill was N2,200/-. She gave him N2,500/- and said to the owner of the restaurant: "Keep the change." This story may seem normal to the owner of the restaurant. But it is very painful for the eggs' seller.

 

 

My Question: Why do we always show that we have the power when we buy from the needy and the poor? And we are generous with those who do not need our generosity ? Every time a poor child comes to me to sell something simple, I remember a tweet from the son of a rich man who said, "After every prayer my father used to buy simple goods for very expensive prices, even though he did not need them. Sometimes he used to pay more for them. I used to get concerned by this act and I told him about it. Then my father told me: 'It is a charity wrapped with dignity, my son.'" Compare these two stories of social hypocrisy. The first one is disappointing and the second one is inspiring. _May God enlighten our vision.

 

 

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