None of my siblings including our firstborn ever apologized for their wrong actions toward me. Instead, their rejection continued until I got the courage to stand up for myself. This was a long time coming as I was vulnerable to their negative actions towards me for many years.

When I recovered from a crisis, it was as though everyone chose to team up, as I recall being told to go into the kitchen to perform all the chores. Their reason always stemmed from the fact that they had taken care of me while in the hospital. Thus, I was punished for the care I was given when ill and overworked to the point that my body could take it no more – from running errands from daybreak to house chores and the like. Despite my adherence to their commands, I was still branded as lazy, and a child that enjoyed being sick. Just tell me how anyone can enjoy having sickle cell crisis. The pain is excruciating. What is there to love about it?

In my parents’ case, I was constantly flooded with criticisms about why I was no good. They frequently transferred their aggression to me and did not refrain from using all kinds of abusive words, spoken in our dialect. A classic example was when I gave my first bible reading at the adults’ church. On our way home, my parents could not help but scorn me insisting that I kept getting upset with myself whilst reading the verses. Dear parents, I want to ask honestly, who does this to a young teenager barely 14 years old? This feedback crushed my self-esteem and confidence and I thought nothing good about myself.

When I was to resume at the university, none of them agreed to go with me on my first day. I was taken to the park and left to board a bus and find my path alone. Apart from being made to resume school all by myself, the basic items required were never purchased. This wasn’t the same for my other siblings who were given everything to keep them satisfied at school. Everything I had was worked for right down to the clothes I wore. In fact, I recall a time in my life when the only clothes I had were a pair of jeans and two or more tops. It was as if once I became aware of myself, my parents stopped buying all my basic necessities.

Coming home on semester breaks was worse as my mum convinced my dad to refrain from giving me any money because I wanted to spend it on expensive hairdos. Please tell me what was so expensive about braids worn for a minimum of three months before I loosened them back at the campus. Even when I got vacation jobs, my mum informed my dad that I was using it as an avenue to beg for money. It was very disheartening to hear as my dad labeled me as a child that wanted things she could not have and made sure he informed my uncles and aunts, including outsiders, that this was the truth about me.
I was taken aback the day my mum told me that dressing up and going to work was all I enjoyed doing.

This rejection from my entire family continued for years until I met a dear friend that gave me the strength and courage to fight back. Before I recount how this occurred, I want to share some other scenarios that occurred.
I recall being flogged severely by my dad using his belt for hiding the key to the house because I had made up my mind to run away. (Yes! Running away when I became a young adult festered in my mind for a long time. Whenever I got tired of weeping, running away was my biggest desire as alI I kept longing for was a place of peace and solitude). After beating me, he ensured I did very tiring household chores before resuming my job the following morning. Did this really happen? Yes, and enough to know that I was wished nothing good. I presume my parents’ anger stemmed from the fact I was constantly depleting their resources through my ill health.

My vacation jobs turned out to be my only place of solace and sanity and were always a blessing to me in different ways. However, it was difficult to bask in their joy because of the constant bickering at home. Instead, I would be weeping because I was unhappy and there was no one to unburden.

Little did my parents know that all the criticisms they poured down my soul would one day change me into a person they never expected.

I know that this incident occurred years ago and I’m sure you may be asking why I’m choosing to recount my experience today. When I think of all the sufferings I’ve been through and how my family had the upper hand and say in my life for a very long time, it’s become imperative to chronicle them. 

(to be continued)…