I was chatting with a very sweet friend of so many years a couple of weeks back
and I intend to blog about the circumstances and events that surrounded our first meeting one of these days. Next thing, she said she wanted to send me something for my blog and i naturally asked her to send away. She send the draft to my email and I have to admit, as someone I’ve known for so many years now, I was deeply touched by the courage of this young lady and I’m sure you’ll all have something to take home… and to say.
Enjoy this moving piece by my beautiful pal, Laide Adenusi.
“Mummy please tell them to stop hitting my leg!”
My nephew cried out from his analgesic-induced sleep.
I sighed, wondering how many times I myself had uttered those very same words at about his age. He was at that stage where declarations like, “You can’t run… You can’t swim… Put on a jacket…” and countless more “you-can’t” commands were given.
Growing up, I was always pampered but I was also always in pains. I would have traded that in for being spanked and being treated like my other sibling in a heartbeat.
Alas! That was never the case. I so craved for that freedom. The freedom to play, and run, and tumble around in hysteria with my siblings. To do what kids my age were doing. To be part of the games, the laughter. To be one of ‘THEM.’
But instead I was always inside, laying on the bed or sitting quietly; watching them play their little hearts out. Knowing fully well that if I DARED try and join them, I’d spend the better part of the school term in and out of hospitals!
I was that sickly.
And with nobody around to provide the proper information on how to manage this disorder… this life.
I was taken from one church to another, drank various concoctions prepared by concerned but misinformed relatives and family friends. Clerics called to pray. Scared family members whispering and muttering about the “emere” spirit in me. It was like I was playing the lead character in Ben Okri’s “Famished Road” and there was no director to scream “CUT!!!” at the end of the scenes.
I looked down at my nephew as he tossed about in his sleep. I ached to promise him that he would have it easier but realistically, what could I do? Could I simply wish it off? Where was the fairy godmother Disney promised?
Does he have to suffer through this like I did? Like numerous others are right now? What answers do I give this fiercely intelligent and extremely inquisitive boy when he asks the Almighty questions like: “WHY?”
“Why can’t I swim like the other kids?”
“Why can’t I go and play with my friends?”
“Why can’t I run around?”
“Why can’t I go to camp?”
“Why am I not like other kids?”
Will we ever get to ask the hospital that made the genotype testing mistake for his parents WHY?
Do we get to ask the SS gene that chose him WHY?
Do we get to ask the parent who met, fell in love and had him WHY?
So many questions. So much blame to go around.
My nephew tossed again, he groaned. There’s only so much pain-relievers can do. I won’t cry… I don’t want my nephew to wake up and see my face stained with tears, because he’ll know. He always does.
Do I dare look up and ask HIM…WHY?
Kindly send in your words of support and encouragement to Laide. She’s been through a lot that I’m aware of and so i know all your comments will truly count. Thank you.
Laide is a make-up artist and the C.E.O. of ELITE BELLE BEAUTY STUDIO at Ojodu, Berger.
Don’t forget that you can still follow me on twitter @blog_aces and also kindly follow Laide too @hollahyde and request for a follow-back.
Are you new to my blogpost? Then enjoy some entertaining posts on my blogsite; http://www.blogaces.wordpress.com today. You can NEVER be bored.
God bless you.