TACITURNITY

TACITURNITY

Growing up wasn’t much fun after my elder brother passed away. It had been series of trials in addition to the amount of money spent just to keep him alive. I recall days when I would be by his sick bed and he would say with his faint voice “come on Baby smile, the world has you”. His acute sickle cell crises were too much for him to bear.

It had become the beginning of contention, pain and ruction, not that I was for once maltreated but things my eyes saw and my ears heard were so devastating.

Hell broke loose after my brother was laid to rest. My father blamed my mother for all his misfortune.

I find it difficult to admit that my father once loved family. This changed after he was dismissed by the Army for refusing to comply with some commands that went against his beliefs. He changed and found solace in drinking. He will not only drink, he would also vent all his frustration on my mother, and very soon it became a routine. 

................

It was a Thursday night, I took out my wrist watch, it was 11pm, everyone was asleep allowing night creatures to come alive, but this night was different. Silence filled the earth. It was one of the darkest nights I had ever experienced . Felt like apocalypse..... 

It felt like something bad was about to happen. I couldn't explain it but I was so terrified and scared to my bones. I  moved with shaky legs and goose bumps all over my body to my mother’s room...

I knocked and called out to her with my tiny sweet voice as she would always say. I said “mummy it’s Baby”.

I wasn’t so little but everyone still called me 'baby" I guess being the last child at home made it so.

My mother opened the door and I started to cry, telling her how scared I was... 

I felt her warm embrace as she said "it's okay". She gave me a peck. I couldn’t see her face then  because it was dark so she put on a torch light.

She directed me to the bed and I noticed my dad wasn’t home yet. I was a little worried so I asked where my father was.

She sighed, said "sleep he would be back soon".

The darkness of this night was still alarming to me.... I didn’t know what to think any more but I felt something coming.

A bang was the next we heard on the door. It went again, bang bang bang and then a low rough sound like one with a sore throat said "open this door"....

I was scared but I knew it was my dad. He was drunk.

There was always this fear that lurked around each time I sense my father coming home drunk... the night would fall on us like a plague and my mother was the victim of a situation I could call a catastrophe....

On some days, even before he gets into the house tiny crystals rolled down my mother's beautiful face, a sight not pleasant for me to behold so I would take my leave before he starts to rant then pummel her for as long as he wanted; leaving her all swollen with the searing pains she feels everyday she wakes. In spite of these great peril she survives.

On this dark Thursday night my mum asked me to go back to my room,  she said no matter what I shouldn’t come out. I didn’t want to leave but she insisted I had to... she gave me the torch light then I left.

I started to hear my father call her all sort of names, I also heard objects like buckets and the mopping stick placed at the entrance of the house being hurled about. Blood curdling sounds... I was so scared; it seemed like a nightmare indeed. 

Each sound I heard made me fidget  
I couldn't shut my eyes, It started to get worse 
Seemed as though my mum had made up her mind not to take it any more 
She had endured the pain that ate her up everyday
I heard her speak true words to him then I heard her cry 
It broke me 
I started to cry then pray. 
I couldn't take it any more so I stood up from my bed with the torch light in my hand I went to the door and stood 
Thinking of what to do, I headed towards the entrance of the house 
I heard my mum scream 
I could feel a deep force and the heat along the veranda where I stood 

Then I heard a heavy noise like two objects had collude.  I decided to put on my torch light pointing towards the direction I heard the noise 
As the bright light broke through the darkness, it caught  the worse scene I had seen in my life.
A scene that changed  my life and took away everything from me.
Some days I blame myself, If only I had listened to my mother and stayed in my room, maybe if I just cried until I slept off, I wouldn’t have seen what I saw. 
I still feel pained.

The scene made me cold to myself and the world.
...............

Few years after the darkest night and days of my life, 
things started to get in place.Out of regret and the lies I was pushed to tell, my father started to get his acts right, it became himself and I who made up my family....
We had moved to a better environment where I  met new people but they were always scared of me, the silent boy.
This was the usual complaints the teachers at school sent home to my father.
One had written to my father saying I was an intelligent boy but I behaved in an  uncivilized manner and was inactive in school. 
My father tried talking to me but each time I looked at him, hatred would cloud my vision. 
I couldn’t cry anymore, my tear glands got bad.
One time I was wrongfully accused of stealing in school and the headmaster had called me out before all the students and asked if I stole but as silent as I always was I said nothing..
He started to flog me.

In my younger days I had felt worse pain, I had cried so hard for years so nothing moved me.
I could see my fellow students cry as each stroke came upon my butt they closed their eyes
After he was done, I only knew I couldn't move for awhile before I walked and joined the others... 
Two days later, the real culprit was caught and I was exornerated.
I told my father nothing, for years it had been so.
Some people thought I was dumb.


Life had started to take me places but i always kept my distance away from people. 
I had this fear in me that I would open up if I ever decide to get close to anyone.

It was the year 1999, democracy had Just returned and liberty they said was back in our hands. 
I worked with the Nigerian Ports Authority,diligent and still silent.
My colleagues loved me because I was a Jack of all trade but I still had a silence problem. 

I never stayed back a minute after work was over. 
I was a perfectionist with time for everything. 
My simple life style made people accept me for who I was but I was way too complicated.

Amina was the latest of employees. she didn’t know anybody yet and her desk was next to mine.
Everyday she would try to start up a conversation but it was futile ...

It was a new week, at noon she came to my desk. I was registering the import log for the morning
she asked if it would be okay we go have lunch together, this day was different  seemed like her request kindled a good feeling.
I looked at her and then I smiled.
It had been 4 years I never went outside my schedule but this one time I said it would be okay.
We walked silently to the cafeteria. As we did, I could notice how everyone looked at the both of us. 
They all were shocked and some perplexed.
I asked what she would have then I placed the order for two.
She asked me "what is wrong....are you sick and dying soon"?
I raised my head up and looked into her eyes 
I saw honesty from a concerned  person.
This was the first time in so many years someone had asked me if Iwas okay, people just met and then understood me without questioning me.
Things were getting weird around Amina and myself, I couldn't  comprehend why I felt moved by every word that came out her mouth 
I told  her " I am okay, but I am way too complicated to mingle with people"
She gave a wow and I was silent again. 
This was the beginning of a new phase of my life... 
Amina and I became so fond of each other. During the weekend she would come visiting and always suggest that we go some place nice and cosy.

I had never been to a night club before but she made me go to one.

She got through to me for which I was grateful but after all said and done she still knew I was hiding something.

Most nights she spent at my place she would go to bed angry after asking me to come clean with her.

At a point she started to think I used to be a serial killer but I was always quick to tell her it wasn't so. 

It got so bad, she stopped speaking to me….

It was hurting deep down to see her hurt despite all the joy she brought me, I decided to let loose and come clean. 

This is the reason I'm writing all these.

It’s all fresh in my head I hope that after you read this you get to understand why I am the way I am. 

February 6th 1975 the darkest night of my life was the night I lost my mother in cold blood.

After I came out of my room and felt the heat in the veranda , as I decided to put on the torch light pointing towards the direction I heard some noise, as the bright light went through; breaking the darkness, it caught the worse scene I had seen in my life 

My dad was on the second move with the large piece of stone we used to wedge the door from closing up at day, 

He let it down with all his might on my mother’s head and I saw the blood splash and some whitish substance shoot out of her skull.

In that moment I died...... It felt as though my tongue got glued to the top of my throat. I felt the blood rush into my brain and then to my eyes. 

The torch light fell from my hand and it was total darkness for me again. I passed out as I was told two days later...

I was hospitalized for  a week and everyday my father was by my side. His face was the first I woke up to and the last I saw before the close of the day 

Each day he would tell me “if you tell anyone what you saw, I will kill you and this time faster than your mother”. 

Everyday I wondered what he told the neigbours and how he never got arrested 

Some days I blame myself for the silence 

If boys and men like me continue to keep silent 

How can the world get better I always asked myself.

My continued silence became my punishment.

Not until you came around, everyday my mother's ghost sat on the thick furred sofa 

where I never let you sit or lie.

I have been hunted by memories I keep burying.

Hidden away are 20 books I have written of my silence and pain for years.

As to my Father I wish I knew his whereabout.

Be he dead, alive or somewhere afflicted by the consequences of his actions.

I guess I never cared to know 

He was lost in time, I had cut him off the moment I became free to live my life. 

~~~~~~~~~~~The End~~~~~~~~~~~~