“Speak woman! How may I help you?”
She fell to the floor exhausted, tears gushing down her eyes. She was tired. She lacked the words to explain what had just happened to her. What had she just done to herself? Would the king kill me? How was I to explain the inexplicable? Drowning in her own thoughts, she wailed again in the king’s palace,
“Help me, your majesty”
“Speak woman, what’s your trouble?” The king asked again as he obviously began to lose his patience
Trying to put herself together, she knelt before the king. I have to try. There is nothing left to lose
“Your majesty,” she said, taking a deep breath, “The other day a woman suggested that we eat my child and then eat her child the next day. I didn’t have a choice. Things went beyond my control. It was the only way out. So we cooked my son and ate him. The next day, I told her we had to eat her son but she hid him from me”
“Chii? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” She asked, touching my temple. I just stared at her because I didn’t even know what to say to her. As I opened my mouth to speak, I burst into tears. Amidst my tears, I told her everything and even showed her the bruises on my wrists, my forehead, my neck and my thighs. When I was done, I looked at her face expecting a reaction – any reaction. Anger, sadness, hatred, pain – anything. Instead, I saw disgust, disbelief and betrayal.
“What exactly is this you are telling me?” She said, letting go of me and moving away
“DING! DING!! DING!!!” went the alarm clock in my room. It always made sure I never went late for my exams because I usually read late into the night. I had already set it for 6:00 am because I had my geography exam the next day. I hadn’t realized it had been two hours since my step-father left my room.
Yesterday night’s experience left me exhausted and in shock. The last time I felt this traumatized was when I came home to my crying mum and my father’s corpse in the bedroom. He had been sick for a while and the doctors literally sent him back home to die. After daddy’s death, mum and I found a way to survive and be there for each other. We were best friends and did almost everything together like we were sisters until last year December when she broke my heart.
I remember that day vividly. Before mum left for work that Friday morning, she told me that she had something to talk to me about. She said this to me with so much excitement in her voice and refused to tell me what it was until she got back from work. When I heard the sound of mum’s keys at the door knob, I jumped out of my bed and ran to the living room to give her the traditional bear hug welcome. It was when we broke off the hug that I noticed the other person in the room smiling at my mum and I.
I had a very long day at work and all I could think about was that I needed to get some serious rest. Once I got out of the car, I half-ran to the door of my apartment, fished out my keys from my purse, pushed the door open and headed for my bedroom. It was almost as if my bed had a magnetic pull of some sort on me. In fact, if you had looked at me that instant, you would have sworn that I was high on something and needed a snort.
I hung my coat and my keys in the ante-room and made a bee-line for my bedroom. When I made it to the living room, my sleep-addled brain registered that something was wrong. Scratch that – everything was wrong. My gaze swept the whole room. Shit. All my stuff was gone. I slowly slid to the floor, pulled off my stilettos, dropped my handbag and sat there on my expensive wooden finished floor.I scoffed. Every single thing was gone: my 32-inch HD television set was gone, the spare cash I hid under my arm chair was gone, my hand-made crochet centre mat was gone and what’s worse, my sister’s priceless painting she gave to me on my 35th birthday was gone. The thieves, whoever they were, cut it out of its frame and dumped it there on the floor for me to mourn its absence.
Hello guys! It’s October 3 and on this day in 2015 I had my big chop! Yes, yes, I’m so excited too!
I don’t even know where to start from really because my journey so far has been interesting and exciting as well. I have learnt a lot about my hair and it has forced me to learn more about myself too. In case you might be wondering how this whole journey started, you can click on the posts below to find out.
Ever since I had my big chop, I have been sharing my experiences with you all and if you have been missing these posts, then click on the link below to see all my posts.
A lot of girls right now are actually willing to go natural but are being held back by the same thing that almost held me back for a while.
OVER THINKING THINGS
We can’t get it right all the time you know? You’re allowed to go crazy and ballistic once in a while to let out the stress from that pressure. What pressure you ask? The pressure from our teachers, parents, future kids and ourselves. The pressure to write a good story before the lead in that pencil finishes.
The quarter-life crisis is a period of life ranging from twenties to thirties, in which a person begins to feel doubtful about their own lives, brought on by the stress of becoming an adult. The term was coined by analogy with mid-life crisis.
I woke up this morning with sore feet from the dance rehearsals yesterday and a sore, itchy right eye from the day before due to an infection. I woke up as always and picked up my phone and I saw it there:
with a picture of me smiling the background.
I then turned over and tried to meditate on the month of September and my dealings with her. I tried to concentrate but there was a spinning sound in the background and I turned to my right side and realised that my DVD player was still paused on Episode 4 of Orange is the new Black Season 3. (Yes, I’m a fan)