I Died Because they Killed Me and I watched Helplessly.

Once upon a time, I was a girl full of great ambitions. I envisioned myself driving high-notch cars and living in an exquisite home with a loving husband and beautiful babies. I generally wanted to be a very successful woman. I wanted to be that princess that would attract that prince charming who would give me a beautiful world. Among these beautiful things was a five-star wedding that would be the envy of many and the talk of the town. I generally wanted to be a woman after God’s heart, but I died halfway there.

Once upon a time, I envisioned myself as a man full of vigour. A man who would provide heaven for my family. A man that would love my wife for who she would be and respect the alter vows. A man that would guide my kids on the right path of life. I generally envisioned myself walking all the staircases of success, and I didn’t see myself at any point being consumed by the greed of success. I envisioned myself loving and respecting all the women in my life, but I died halfway there.

You see, in my early life, Papa beat me all the time for the slightest mistakes that didn’t even warrant it. He said I was as foolish as Mama and destined for a miserable life like her. I watched him torture Mama constantly, and I wondered whether he ever loved her. Mama always wore a sad face but never stopped showering Dad and us with love. A pained soul was what she was, and each time I saw the pain in her eyes, it broke me. This made me start hating all men, for I envisioned them as heartless as Papa. My dream of ever finding my prince charming died at this point in my life.

Akoko, my Christian Religious Education teacher in high school, said that I was very thick-headed and would amount to nothing better in life other than reproducing like a rat, children that would be as thick-headed as me. The whole class broke into a roar of laughter and consumed by shame and pain; I shed tears. Unfortunately, I believed her portrayal of me and my self-esteem was extremely lowered. My dream of becoming a well-travelled doctor was killed, for I dropped out of school.

My first boyfriend was a jerk. Being my first love, I didn’t even experience the goosebumps and butterflies that girls my age at that time experience with their first encounter. He made me feel like a useless piece of rag that I completely lost myself. At seventeen, when I was finally sired, he took off. I had to go back home to Papa, who couldn’t stand the sight of my protruding tummy. Mama, though disappointed, cried with me and stood by me throughout the nine months journey. I delivered the first, second, third, fourth, and fifth, and on the sixth at 24, Mama succumbed. My pillar of strength and hope was gone, and as expected, Papa threw me out, for he could not stand my mini nursery school. On the streets, my reproducing tool became my investment. I became a prostitute!

I experienced a beautiful childhood until at 12 when the cruel hands of death snatched my loving parents from me. As the only child and son, I was entitled to all the wealth my parents left behind. Ugly fate was staring at me, though, for my greedy and opportunistic relatives snatched everything from me, and I was thrown out. No one was ready to welcome me in their home, for they termed me a burden. With anger and bitterness, I sought refuge in the streets. Life was not easy here, and I was even entangled in robbery with violence, and jail became my eternal home.

I died! I died because I allowed it. I should not have allowed my brutal Papa to define my destiny. I should not have allowed my high school teacher to determine the direction my life would take. I should not have given in to my perverted boyfriend. I should have stood firm and faced my greedy and opportunistic relatives. The moment I lost hope was when I died, and my resurrection resides within me.