By African Copper
The ride to Markudi seemed like an endless one. I could feel the flesh of my buttocks tear away with every jerking and bouncing through every bump.
I pumped loud music into my ears; my way of distracting my mind from the draining length of time.
I let my mind float with the wind, slowly did it creep into the past.. Crawling slowly yet steadily to just a few years after dipper days.
A few weeks or probably months to my graduation from school. It was a hot Sunday afternoon, cramped up in our then small car, we took the long ride home from church.
It was Test and Variety Sunday, one of our favourites. Right at the back seat, my siblings and I alongside a family friend sat, chatting heavily about the test questions.
“It’s a lie, Aunty Appo told you the answer to the question,” Ijeoma rang so loudly.
“She didn’t! “
“She did! ”
” I said she… “
“Naza! ” mum cut in. “Tell me the truth, did she tell you the answer?” she asked from the steering.
“Mummy, no! She didn’t.” I replied swiftly, starting to get upset.
“Chimnaza, tell the truth o,” Ijeoma cut in again, uninvited.
I probably could have murdered her with my eyes if I could. It was a question she didn’t know the answer to, and I was happy I did. Was she just trying to be so annoying just coz she failed the question?
“Naza, I’ll tell your daddy o… just tell the truth now; I will not beat you!”
Mum replied again.
I could smell the warning oozing from her voice.
What truth again does she want? I had started panicking, why couldn’t she believe me when I said she didn’t?Why was she picking sides with someone that wasn’t even family?
“Mummy no, she didn’t tell me, ” I had started to tremble.
My shaking grew worse as she didn’t say any other thing. Did she believe me or not? The mere struggle to decipher from her heartaching silence helped my shaking grow worse.
We had the rest of the journey home in absolute silence. Right after lunch, I was summoned to the living room. The very tone in dad’s voice told me all I needed to know. I was in big trouble.
“How was Test and Variety today?”
“Very fine, daddy”
“So your mummy says a teacher told you the answer to a question, and you are refusing to admit it!”
The look in his eyes were like warm fires, something looking for a perfect excuse to explode.
“Daddy she did not tell me; I’m telling the truth.” I had started shaking visibly…
Dad sat up straighter, his anger starting to find expression. I was totally confused and afraid.
Yes, I had a record for lying, and I was always caught. I thought parents always knew when a child was lying?
I was telling the truth this time, why was it so hard for them to know now that I wasn’t lying?
Mum folded her hands looking hard at me. I wanted to melt away, or probably freeze.
“Stop lying and tell the truth!”
And the interrogation continued for hours. With every passing time, I grew more scared.
Why are they believing Ijeoma over me? She’s the one lying! Couldn’t they see it?
My confusion intensified as it grew dark. What’s the matter? Haven’t I said it long enough for them to take that look that they so easily did, and know that I was telling the truth?
No. They just kept ringing it, “You’re lying”, “Tell the truth”..
For some time, I’d be silent not understanding why they kept insisting I was lying.
“I will call Aunty Appo, and if she tells me she told you the answer I’ll beat you,” dad warned, meaning every word.
I sighed in relief, Aunty Appo would affirm I wasn’t lying, I could breathe.
I nodded.
Reluctantly, dad made the call, he seemed too sure I was lying, I was definite he would realise I was not.
Hmm, not until the teacher said she really told me the answer did I know I was in big trouble! I battled with the tears already threatening to fall.
“Are you still not going to admit eh, Chimnaza?” mum yelled, she had concern in her eyes…
Dad just looked hard at me; I hated everything, I really couldn’t say anything. I had lost my words. I had silently hoped they’d call Aunty Appo. I thought she’d be my deliverer, but she wasn’t. Instead, she had fueled the flames much more.
It was really late now. My siblings had gone to bed, the ladies that lived with us looked at me so pitifully. Their look said it all. “She said she’s not lying na, why cant they let her be?”
Warm tears came fresh, but I still couldn’t cry out. Dad had gone to his room, instructing I don’t go to bed without telling the truth, rather what they all believed to be true.
Mum sat in the living room. I paced the entire length of the house, fighting sleep heavily.
I couldn’t take it anymore, my feet couldn’t carry me anymore. I badly wanted to sleep, I couldn’t endure the look in everyone’s eye. I thought to myself, just say the lie they wanted, collect the cane beating. At least, I wouldn’t be killed in the process, but then I’ll get to finally sleep.
I gathered all the courage in me and matched to the master bedroom. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door, after counting to three several times.
“Yes, come in.”
The sound of his voice sent my heart racing afresh. It was now or never.. I walked in and confessed a sin I knew nothing about!….
While I lay pinned to the bed and the strokes landed heavily on my buttocks, I screamed hard, cried till I had no tears left. The strokes just kept coming, 7,8,9,10,11…
At that point I stopped counting, I thought I could really die, the pain exploding through my entire being, I thought my brain would pop.
After the session of thorough lashing, dad helped me to my feet and I fled for the door. I wasn’t dismissed yet so I couldn’t dare leave the room. I suddenly realized mom was in the room, I did not know when she stepped in.
“Your punishment is that you wouldn’t be attending your graduation. Go to your room and go and sleep,” dad said. His face crumpled in a deep frown.
I ran out, as quickly as my legs could carry me. I was out of breath, I had cried till I could barely draw in a proper breath. My head thumped really hard but it couldn’t be compared to the pain blazing from my behind!
Carefully, I climbed up to the bed and lay on my stomach, I couldn’t dare to have pressure on my back, I just lay still, trying hard to calm myself and breathe well.
“Jesus, this girl has mind o, so she really was lying and she held up for this long,”the ladies that lived with us, whispered in Igbo to themselves.
I had no strength left to defend myself, or at least explain why I admitted to the crime. I just lay on the bed begging for sleep.
That night I made two resolves:
Number 1. Never again will I admit to what I didn’t do, I would fight it to the end.
Number 2. I would work hard when I grew up to find my real parents; my real parents would know when I’m telling the truth.
It’s forever ago and the memory stayed so fresh. How could the details survive these years?
Reminiscing over the details, my heart ached, tears burning through my eyes. The pain seems to still be very much alive. Fresh anger burning through me.
Then I caught myself. I thought I had forgiven this experience many years ago.
I thought I had forgiven Ijeoma for saying all she did. Forgiven Aunty Appo for not coming to my rescue; maybe she really did tell me but I didn’t know. Forgiven mom and dad for not believing me; the teacher already said she told me, plus I had a record for lying.
But then, questions arose. Couldn’t they have assumed I didn’t hear it? Couldn’t they just have believed me?
I had to fight so many years to be believed after that incident. Anger and sudden pain slowly started choking me again. Only then did I realise I truly hadn’t forgiven them. Shaking my head vigorously, I battled the thought.
But then the Holy Spirit didn’t let me.
“Take away all weights that keep You away from me,” I prayed.
His words came soft. This time the tears really did pop.
I had carried a weight of unforgiveness for the last sixteen years.
Yes I had kept both resolves that I swore to myself that fateful night. My then parents really are my parents. Also, I have never agreed to anything I didn’t do. No matter how heated up it got, no matter how angry the other person was, I just wouldn’t. I would not even be silent about it.
I got many names as a result. “A habit of shifting blames” ,”a feeling of always being right”, “an attitude of always having something to say” . Many more.
For me it was nothing of that, it was an undying desire not to chew a bone I didn’t cook! I would eat only a meal I served myself.
Although I had long forgotten this promise, it remained in my subconscious; I couldn’t live past it.
Then I heard softly, “you can only deal with a problem when you deal with it’s roots. The branches, leaves, stem, fruits may all appear different but they spring forth from the very same roots!
This root was unforgiveness, a silent grudge buried beneath the carpet. No, six feet beneath the soils of my heart, and so no matter how much I loved them and wanted to act differently, the seed of unforgiveness I had buried only grew and sprang forth.
I buried my head as the tears blurred my vision. Yes many years had passed but I had remained under the chains of this sin, a captive who was blinded to freedom.
Then it struck me. It wasn’t a matter of how many years.
Time didn’t heal, time never takes away sin, it broods over it, causing great yield. It’s like a buried seed in a fertile soil, growth is all that results from time.
You may loose the knowledge as to why you lived as such, but it never takes it away.
My heart cried out! “Lord I’m sorry, I’ve carried this load for so many years so diligently. And I have been held down by its strongholds.
Set me free!”
I cried and whispered gently to Him who brought peace. And yes I did eat of it. The roots were pulled out; freedom, alas.
The tears rolled, first of pain, then of pure joy! The lifelong weight of unforgiveness lifted. The life long resolve was dissolved. I could forgive.
It is said that old habits die hard.
That meant this habit of defence, this wall I had erected, would have to die quick, even if I have to thrust a knife through its chest.
I raised my head and looked out the window, letting the rushing wind fill my eyes and every opening. New waves of memories flooding in with it. I smiled…
It was a new day in my life. A new free me.