My Name…….

This story is totally fictional and any name mentioned is but a coincidence.

Enjoy!

I remain,

Forever His ‘Dinma

 

My name is Akpo-oyoyovwin Okome…. Beautiful name yeah? It means A Beautiful life. As a name of a thing is so it is; a popular saying and belief but well I guess that in my case, the reason why my parents at least those whom I called my parents gave me the name probably because that was the “Name of the year”.

We all as humans look forward to that beautiful day when “the water broke” and the contractions came in full force and the toil began to bring us out into the world which we’ve been in prior to our exit through the dark tunnel of toil to the light of the sun, which the maker king didn’t allow us to see until that particular day- our Birthday.

Prior to this day when we breathed our first breath on our own, we had passed through a selection stage and we were lucky enough to have emerged winners. The ejaculation that served as a pass and the chance given us paid off real good didn’t it? Counting nine (9) months backward, we stood at the lower abdomen of our mothers either as a blessing or as a disgrace.

My parents were blessed by whatever blessed them; because I know that the blessings of The Maker King maketh rich and addeth no sorrows. I grew up regretting why I had been born into this cursed lineage. Mind you, I wasn’t the first child neither was I the last but I was only different and as I was told by the boys who were attracted to me for a short while, unique. My parents were supposed to be “business people”; my mother most especially was gravely particular about material wealth and always liked to show off in my own terms for she, in her own terms called it “being comfortably alive and showing people how life should be”. Showing people how life should be by making people beg you and kiss your feet and doing preposterous and humane things to be able to live comfortably?? My mother can be called a demon; she was the devil’s mother.

My mother as i knew her wanted everything at all cost. At my birth, my mother’s joy knew no boundaries for I wasn’t her first child nor her first girl child and people were amazed at her joy; I wish they knew why for I was but a special child, An Albino. It may not be shocking if I told you that I was indeed conceived in a shrine in front of ritualists and evil people and I was in fact the source of the wealth of my parents and so before I began to “vomit” money, I was treated like gold. The Princess of the royal family wasn’t treated as well as I was and I must say it was a remarkable feeling. I should say I had the best childhood but I didn’t know I was going to be amazed at the anguish the following years would bring. My siblings hated me. I got even what I didn’t ask for and I wasn’t permitted to share anything I had with them; I for one thought it was wrong until I got the beating of my life as a young child anyway, when I disobeyed this rule. I went to the best schools, had the best clothes but one thing was odd about me and that was the seclusion I suffered. I wasn’t allowed to have friends and I wasn’t allowed to participate in religious activities even though my parents claimed to be Christians who even attended Mass and were also Sir and Lady Okome (KSJ). At some point I was home schooled it would have been cool if I had friends to rub it in their faces anyway but I was just sad and lonely.By my 13th birthday, my special teacher started skipping classes and wasn’t so hearty and alive around me anymore. I was bothered and decided to ask exactly what the problem was and after much persuasion she told me that she wasn’t been paid and treated properly anymore and that she was planning to quit. That was the beginning of the climax of my loneliness. She eventually stopped coming and my parents didn’t make any efforts whatsoever to get me a new teacher or at least enroll me in another school if home schooling was too expensive. But instead, they went about complaining about how unreliant and selfish western education is and how they preferred the traditional mode of education. I always giggled at the thought or mention of traditional education.

The first time I ever witnessed my menstruation, I at least had a clue as to what it was but then I still had to ask my mother because at least I thought it was the right thing to do. I entered her room looking sober and then I spoke and all I said was “Mummy, there’s blood in my panties” She jumped up looking confused and astonished and asked me if I had been raped. I was immediately scared at that moment but I was able to summon courage and give her a negative answer. She wasn’t still relaxed but she handed me a sanitary towel, showed me how to use it and that was that. I know she hoped the bleeding would stop but when it didn’t, she then confirmed that I was indeed menstruating and I came to later understand why that thought irritated her very very much. She told my father about it and he too seemed to be bothered and one Friday evening, that same week when I “started” I was told to dress up and get into the car. Instructions were given to the help at home that they shouldn’t bother about staying up late that they were indeed going to be out till very late; they said we were going to the hospital and I wondered why with so much fear in my heart. I was actually shocked at how much the town had developed for I hadn’t seen it in a very long long time. Even though the town had changed I still knew that the direction we were headed wasn’t going to lead us to any hospital. We drove to the outskirts of the town. We drove so far out, that at a point; there were no houses in sight anymore, just wild forests of grasses and palm plantations. We drove on and at some point turned into a dirt road which stretched a very long distance and then came to halt. I was scared. My parents alighted from the car and beckoned me to alight from the car also. I came down and held my mother. Only then could I see a really big mansion and I wondered who lived there and why my parents would bring me to a place like this. We entered and we were welcomed by a butler who offered us a seat and then asked my parents into a room alone. I was left to wait for them. While waiting I could hear shouting and arguments basically coming from my mother. They later came out and gave me a drink and that was it.

I remember none of the events that followed or at least my mind tries to prevent me from suffering a greater madness than I am already inflicted with. All I remember is that from then onwards my menstruation stopped and my own father began to defile me on the 19th of every month; a day when I am supposed to be on my period but I see nothing but “water” which is collected by my mother immediately my father is done rocking my bed back and forth. At a point, I started collecting it and giving to them myself.

This was my life now! The money producer of the family. I hated life I hated my family, I hated my siblings, I hated my father, I hated my MOTHER! This was my special skill and I lived even though I was dead. I never married or did what young girls my age did.

I did this until I was 25 years when I got pregnant somehow and remembered the menstruation incident. I didn’t want any trouble so I didn’t even bother to tell a soul about it. As if I even had a soul to actually tell. And so one fateful day when we were on our way to “The Mansion”, I had never been this determined in my life. That was the only human feeling I had for now; Hope and Determination. No matter what happened, I was either going to escape that day or I was going to kill myself for I had had enough of this demoralization. I beckoned to my father to stop halfway into the journey because I had to pee. There was no answer and eventually, the car came to a stop “Out!” My father screamed and that sent a quiver down my spine and that was the last word he said to me since then. I alighted from the car and walked for a while pretended to squat and then I began to run like a wild dog. Off I went. The trauma and pain I felt made me feel deranged and I ran even more at the sound of footsteps even the ones in my head. I do not know how much I ran but I indeed know that I ran over a thousand miles.

I finally came to a stop when the feotus within my abdomen reminded me that I now had to share everything I had with this creature which I had come to hate so much but then it gave me company in this wilderness of loneliness. I was forced to live like the beasts of the wild. This could have been compared to the bondage I suffered in my parents’ house but this time around I had freedom at least I thought I actually did until I gave birth to a creature; a human I thought but without hands. I was forced to live with this “thing” and answer its questions. “It” looked exactly like my father and reminded me of all the evils he did and all the mistreatments I had suffered but I vowed that unlike my father I would let this “Little one“have a life and so I named her Oghene jerho meaning God Lives Still.

Till now I live in the shadows of my pain and my little one gives me joy.

She’s four (4) now and living her name.

That gives me fulfillment which heals my soul

. I’ve learnt how to smile and I have forgiven, I guess now I am indeed living my name.