MY JOURNEY 1

My name is Joy, funny how my name sounds to me, when I tell you my story, maybe you would understand the irony of my name. I was born into the home of a military officer, and my mother was a trader. The fourth child, in a family of six (as it was back then).





I lived the carefree life most children in the barracks live, and never really knew anything that went on in my family. All that changed, when I turned thirteen. I remember that day, like it is yesterday. I was on my way back from school, and was in a haste to remove my school uniform and join my friend Elizabeth and her brother Moses on a mango plucking spree. I got to our block, and saw my sister, Sister Hope on the ground crying. My father was throwing clothes at her from our house on the first floor, and my mother was pleading with my father. I ran towards Sister Hope, and my father shouted at me to stay away from her or else he would beat stupidity out of my head. I froze, and stood there watching. My younger brother Andrew had been behind me, and he also joined me, wondering what was going on.


Later that evening, my father called my siblings and I into our small sitting room, and announced to us that Hope was never setting foot into his house again, and that if he ever saw or heard that we had any communication with her, we would also join her out of his house. Our first daughter Sister Faith, started crying and my father went on to say that Hope had gotten pregnant and that any of us that gets pregnant would face the same fate. Our mother didn’t say a word throughout that meeting.


Later at night, while others slept, Sister Faith explained to me how a girl can get pregnant. She told me to stay away from boys. Boys were bad. I listened to her lecture and fell soundly to bed. The next morning, I had forgotten all about girls and pregnancies, and Sister Hope came to my mind, when it was time to make my hair. She was the one that weaved our hair.


Three months passed, and pregnancy stared me in the face again. This time, I was the only one at home, when Mama Rose dragged rose to our house. Rose was crying when I opened the door. “Where is your foolish father” Mama Rose asked me. I was shocked for two reasons. First, nobody has ever called my father foolish, and secondly Mama Rose was supposed to be my father’s friend. I know he goes to her bar many times. I told her that my father was not around, but no sooner had I said this, than my father came up the stairs.

The speed at which mama Rose grabbed my father’s trousers, was alarming. Mama rose was a very tiny woman. But apparently, she had the strength of a lioness. Soon my father’s shirt, his favourite shirt was in shreds. All the while, Rose continued crying and all I could pick out from the chaos was….. “cheat”, “mother and daughter”, “wicked man”. Neighbours from my block and neighbouring blocks, gathered. I was still confused, when my father finally extracted himself from the claws of Mama Rose, and ran into our house, locking the door behind him.



My mother was called from her shop, and she came to the house. She listened to Mama Rose for two minutes, and fell to the ground crying. Then she stood up, hit our door for minutes but my father did not open the door. Little by little, neighbours dispersed and even Mama Rose left, but Rose stayed behind.



Once again, a meeting was called but this time, I can’t remember who called the meeting. My mother did most of the talking, and Sister Faith, Brother John our first son talked also. My mother said she was going back to her village, that she was tired of staying with our father. She said she was going with Andrew our little brother and the last child of the family who was seven years old.

My younger sister Peace cried, saying she wanted to go with our mother, but my mother said she couldn’t take care of her. Peace was ten years old. My father was silent, throughout this meeting and Rose was outside in the corridor. The next morning my mother was gone and so was Andrew.


That was the end of life as I knew it. So many changes happened at the same time. Sister Faith left her school and started running my mother’s shop, Rose became a permanent part of our household, and her stomach grew with every passing day, as did her mother’s. I and Peace started hawking pure water and kerosene from Sister Faith’s store.

Years later, my father was transferred to another state and he informed us that we had to stay behind. By this time, Rose had two children, brother John had left the house for Lagos, I was still waiting for all the money he promised to send me when he got there. Sister Faith was still running the shop, and had a room of her own, somewhere in town. I and Peace were the only one at home, with our father and Rose. Father said we would have to move in with Sister Faith. I was sixteen years old.

I left secondary school the same year we moved in with Faith. Life outside the barracks was nothing like the life I had lived. The people in sister Faith's compound, lived a fast paced life. All the men in the compound, the landlord inclusive, asked me to be their girl friend. I spent a lot of time in Sister Faith’s store, I didn’t have time for any of them. I wish I could say the same for Peace. I started to notice something was off with Peace, when I saw her with a lot of money one afternoon. She refused to tell me who gave it to her, and even Faith could not get it out of her.

Peace started buying clothes for herself, and always had one new gift or another. She didn’t listen to me anymore, and she spent her time in the compound, so she was alone most of the time.


I came back from church that Sunday afternoon, and went into the room. My sister Peace was lying face down on the floor, close to the door. There was blood everywhere. She had not followed me to church, because she said she wasn’t feeling too well. I screamed, and grabbed hold of her, she was very weak, and the blood coming out of her was scary. She was crying in pain. She gave me a bloodied piece of paper while I screamed my lungs out, for help. When help came, and we finally got her to the hospital, the doctor said DOA dead on arrival. She had died from an abortion that wasn’t properly carried out. The doctor said she might have ingested something in a bid to remove the baby.
When we got back home later that night, the bloodied paper was on the floor by the door. Peace had scribbled a note. I gave the note to Sister Faith read it, and wept.


It told a tale of how she had slept with five men in our compound, and that our landlord raped her. when she fell pregnant, she didn’t know who was responsible, neither did she even know she was pregnant until one of them told her she was. She didn’t say who, she also didn’t say who gave her the concoction. But she listed the men that slept with her. Peace was only fourteen years old.



to be continued.....







LIFE IS A CHOICE MY FRIENDS
SO CHOOSE WISELY
ENOUGH SAID