IF I TOLD THE TRUTH...

Lights, camera...
But wait! Not action, but deception,
I'm finally in the land of the rich and the beings of high position,
The stage is set,
The people's demands, I have met,
The crowd is cheering,
The fans are hailing;
They love me,
They want more, more of entertainment that is free,
Free of criticism, free of the truth, free of true reality,
They admire and adore my personality;
I feel like I'm on top of the world, so high,
I feel like an eagle, soaring the sky,
So I give them what they desire, they cheer,
I tell them what they want to hear, it's fair.
But on my inside, the truth lies, suppressed,
Within me, the light exists, oppressed,
So when the lights go off, and the cameras come off, behind closed doors,
The true content of my soul, I pour,
And I ask, "if I told the truth...?"

They told me I had to re-organize,
But they actually meant, I had to compromise,
I wanted fame and fortune,
They said I could, I was opportuned,
I wanted to be flash with so much cash;
To wine and dine with the wealthy at every bash,
They said I could, but I had to drop the reality,
Transform, and put on a new identity;
I desired control, influence and power,
They told me I could have it, with each passing hour,
All I had to do was to play along,
And show that I belonged,
Because in this land, the mirage is the real deal,
And the real deal is not so real,
But when night falls, and I fall into the deep,
Of my mind and spirit, lying asleep,
The truth stares me in the face,
And the light desires to take its place,
But then I ask, "if I told the truth...?"


TO BE CONTINUED...
Copyright Lysious

THE SORROWS OF CHILDHOOD; A NOVEL CONT'D

Seven

A Mirage of Hope

      

    In the dawn of 1852, the whole Bight of Benin became a British protectorate, where a representative represented the protector, until 1861, when the Bights of Biafra and Benin became a united British protectorate, still under a British representative.

    After this period around the 1880s and 1890s, when the white men from the Great Britain came to sign an agreement with the Oba of Benin, he refused because he didn’t want to loose his slaves and his autocracy. The camp guards usually told us of the Oba’s encounters with the British people, emphasizing that we can never be free and that they were prepared to fight with the last drop of their blood to keep us enslaved. As a testimony to this we heard of the ruthless murdering of eight British representatives who were sent to investigate the ritual human sacrifices in the kingdom. We were not surprised because ruthlessness was a defining part of the Oba’s personality. What got me pondering, however, was why that land was called great, if it could not suppress the Benin Empire.

     The British however lived up to their name, when a group of British armed soldiers under the command of a man who introduced himself to us as Admiral Rawson. The group which had 1200 soldiers invaded the Benin Empire in 1897, conquered and utterly destroyed it- the all magnificent and awe-inspiring Empire was torn down, like an ant is crushed by an elephant. This group is today known as the ‘Punitive Expedition’, a title I came to understand after years of African history studies. I also realized much later that many African countries have long been conquered by this British people, and slavery had been curtailed reasonably in those countries, since 1807. The Benin Empire was among the last to be conquered.

       After the fall of the Benin in 1897, the British set apart the Warri province to punish the then Oba of Benin, after the death of his father; the one that captured us died on exile in Calabar in 1914, as we were informed by the British. The province was also set up to curb his imperial power, and although the Benin monarchy was restored in 1914, true power was bestowed on the colonial administration of Nigeria, my father land. We were happy and relieved to see the cruel and ruthless monarch go through suffering. It was his pay back time for all the sorrows, sufferings and deaths he and his predecessors caused us. The final decline of the Benin Empire led to its loss of independence, sovereignty, king; its control of trade, especially the slave trade, and its pride. The aptly named, ‘Punitive Expedition’ or Punishers as I used to call them totally humiliated the Empire. The defeat, capture and subjugation of Benin paved the way for British military occupation and later conquest of the adjacent areas with Benin, under Benin administration; and were merged into the Niger coast protectorate, then into the protectorate of southern Nigeria and finally into the colony and protectorate of Nigeria.

       Although the arrival of the British launched the whole nation into the colonial era, we were grateful that the shackles of bondage have been broken from us. It was like moving from a deeper level of bondage to a lighter, pretty comfortable level of imperialism. Under the British colony, we could travel to other Nigerian states and countries, and our right to education was not infringed upon. We even returned to Nri, the land of our nativity, the place of our origin and began the process of rebuilding it. The British government offered a great help. Our king was restored, our pride returned; our culture and tradition revived and finally laughter filled our mouths.

       However, as I witnessed this whole process of revolution and transformation, tears rolled down my cheeks; I was grieved over the untimely death of Omalichanwa, my pride. She did not live to see the end of slavery. She died as a result of malnutrition. She was born, bred and died a slave; her whole life encircled by slavery. Her death hurt me even more than the death of my parents and the departure of Dimkpa; for she was a part of me, a product of my blood and labor. I saw her crying each time I closed my eyes. She was the only dream I had at night, and I mourned her for months. This whole revolution would have been a lot happier with her by my side. But I had to move on with my life; crying could do nothing to bring her back from the land of the dead.

       Following the onset of the colonial era, my distant aunt, Adanne, my mother’s sister who traveled to London before the beginning of the slave period, decided to return to Lagos, a state in the western part of Nigeria, which was now a British colony. She paid us a visit at the village, and after consoling me for all I had been through; especially the death of my parents and daughter, and the physical and sexual abuse I was subjected to, informed uncle Agu of her intention to take me with her to Lagos, so I could start all over again on a clean slate. Aunt Adanne looked very beautiful and glamorous with her sparkling eyes, round face, thick lips, full breasts that looked like those of an expectant mother engorged with milk, and plump body that accentuated her feminine curves. Her legs were smooth, hairless and straight. She also had a fine car and seemed to have lived luxuriously in London. I was very excited at the news, and couldn’t wait to follow her to Lagos. I thought my hope had come, I envisioned a new dawn had arrived. But as it turned out, life with aunt Adanne was an unrealistic desire; it was only a mirage of hope.

THE SORROWS OF CHILDHOOD-THE SAGA CONTINUES

Six

The Joys of Motherhood

      Exactly two months after Dimkpa and the first group of slaves were sold to the Europeans and taken across the Atlantic Ocean, I suddenly began having strange feelings and bodily signs I could not explain. I was had not had my periodic feminine flow for sometime, and so thought it a woman’s problem and thus only an experienced mother would understand. So I didn’t bother uncle Agu about it.

       Ezenwaanyi, the mother of our king was a very hospitable and affable woman. She was indeed a mother to all Nri natives. Mothers went to her for advice when their marriages experienced turbulent times; fathers confided in her when they found it difficult to make very important family decisions, and all the maidens looked up to her as a role model. Even the young men felt motherly love each time she spoke to them. Relating observations about myself to Ezewaanyi gave me a better understanding of what was wrong with me.

            ‘Mama your daughter has been experiencing strange feelings for the past two weeks which I can’t understand’

            ‘There is nothing to difficult for a mother to understand my daughter. What is the problem?’ she responded solicitously as she placed her right arm around my shoulders.

            ‘I’ve recently been feeling very tired after little or no work, I sleep longer than the average girl should, very little things or sights irritate me, and I throw up like five times a day. Uncle Agu has been complaining of my recent spitting habit, and I am totally confused.’ I said leaving no detail.

                  ‘Olisabiligwe! Nwam, when last did you see your feminine flow?’

She asked anxiously, making me feel nervous.

                  ‘L-l-last… I can’t remember mama’ I spluttered.

                  ‘You are pregnant!’ she said to my utter surprise.

                  ‘P-e-r-e-g-n-a-n-t? But mama how? I mean I did not sleep with any man’

                  ‘You’re right. You did not sleep with any man, but many men forcefully tasted of your honor. I don’t blame you my daughter. This is one of the ills of slavery, orjoka’ she lamented.

                  ‘Don’t worry about it. Your uncle would understand. I mean it wasn’t your fault. Just go and tell him about it, and make sure you come to me every morning for check-ups, onugo’

                  ‘Thank you mama’ I said leaving her presence, feeling dejected.

                  ‘Ordikwanma, it is okay my daughter. That’s why you have me’ she responded with a warm smile; not warm enough to make me feel better.

     Disclosing my latest finding to uncle Agu was not a problem at all. All I was concerned about was how I was going to be a mother at so young an age; not knowing my baby’s father even worsened the situation. I have always marveled at how babies so large come out of a woman’s body through a region so small; and the pains I see pregnant women go through was nightmarish to me. But, the thought of having my own baby was fascinating to me. I love infants and like to see them smile happily. So I decided to have the baby.

      Eight months and two weeks later, my baby was born. Like me she was born into slavery and was going to be brought up a slave. It was a painful reality I had to face. But as I looked at Ezenwaanyi bath and care for my baby each day, I realized mama would have been the one doing all that, if the wicked arms of death had not taken her away from me. So I named my baby Omalichanwa-a beautiful child, after my late mother. She would always remind me of her as long as she lived.

      Omalichanwa’s birth brought a great sense of joy to me and uncle Agu especially. He only wished his brother, papa, were alive to share this joy with him and carry his own grand child.

          ‘Oh how death stings’ he thought and said.

Raising my own baby was the best thing that happened to me, and I began to feel a little at rest even in the land of slavery. At least those mean guards treated me with preference now. I never thought they had a humane part to their lives. Uncle Agu and I were even excluded from the next group of slaves that was sold away, across the Atlantic. All because of Omalichanwa; she was like a savior to us.

     Based on the love I had for Omalichanwa, I vowed I was going to take good care of her and train her into an adorable and chaste young lady. I only wished the chains of captivity and the shackles of bondage were taken off my feet and hands, so my daughter wouldn’t grow up discovering she is not a free born. However with each passing day, I could feel it deep down within me that the end to slavery was near. I could perceive the fragrance of freedom, feel the air of liberation and see the beacon of hope and redemption. I was certain before my daughter would say her first words we would all be free. But because there were no signs of our being freed anytime soon, I was sure my conviction came from that which was invisible; it came from within my soul. And whether my conviction and dreams for my daughter were fulfilled or not was left for fate to decide.

LETTERS TO MY SISTER II

There is a man for every woman, and a woman for every man,
So sister, please take it easy, don't be in a hurry, your life is not a competition; it's got a plan!
The average man wants to get in between your legs and dump you!
And I know you are not an average girl, so please don't let them go into you,
You don't need a man to be wealthy,
Your wealth lies within you; it is always steady;
Waiting for you to tap into it and let it overflow,
It's that inner wealth you need to make you glow,
So in all you do, please keep those legs closed!

You're a woman of destiny,
Who is destined to be a voice and inspiration to her generation;
So please don't compromise your integrity,
Even if you have, there is a provision for restoration,
For nothing can stop your light from shining-it is a reality,
Even the average man desires a woman who has self-esteem, pride and distinction,
Sister you will stand tall, so no matter how many times you fall,
You will stand up better and stronger, if you heed hope's call,

I know that one day you will find the right man,
Marry the right husband, who will be your "house-band";
Holding your family and life together,
And sticking by you forever,
One day, when the time is right, you'll be joined to a person deserving,
Under the right ceiling, and in the right setting,
Your husband will call you "golden girl",
And your children will call you "angel",
I'll keep praying for you,
But till we meet again,
I'd like you to please keep those legs closed!

With love,
From your brother

LETTERS TO MY SISTER

Happiness in my heart, satisfaction in my soul, and briskness in my bones,
As I write you this letter,
For I reminisce with relish the days when as kids, we played, picked and threw stones,
Walking by the rivers, dipping in the waters,
But the years have fast rolled by, and you're now grown,
And I feel some issues still lie in tatters,
Hence the reason I write, though my pen be overflown,

No more cripping, no more sucking, no more drooling,
No more mama's baby,
But cart-walking, waist-swaying, pumps-wearing, and denim-rocking,
Now a mature lady,
Not pacifier-sucking any more, not diaper-wearing any more, not bib-wearing any more,
No more every body's cute suckling,
But mascara-painting, lip-stick wearing, and foundation-spreading,
Now a beauty, every man desires to call his darling,

Sister, it is for this reason that I'm worried,
It is for this cause that I'm bothered,
So, as those men come flocking in two's
Ready to do anything for you, just to have you,
Please set your priorities right, and define your personality,
Do not loose your pride-your virginity,
And in all you do please keep those legs closed!

BY THE CANDLES, WITHIN THE ROSES II

Honey, tonight is the night we have long awaited,
Today is the day we have long anticipated,
For this long have we remained faithful and chaste,
'Cos the treasure we have, we didn't want to waste,
I have taken you down the aisle,
And slid the ring of eternal bond down your finger, as I watched you walk down the aisle, with a smile,
Baby, see the moon is smiling at us, the stars are beaming at us,
The wind is sensually calm tonight, and even mother-earth is in support of us,
Tonight, all I want to do, is draw from the treasure that is your sexuality,
As I access your sacred region in its purity and sanctity,
By the candles of companionship, and within the roses of relish.

Baby, you look more beautiful tonight, clothed in purity,
And you look more sexy tonight, covered in sensuality,
I just want to hold your hands, and feel its tenderness,
I just want to kiss your lips, and feel its sensuousness,
Baby, I just want to hold you close, as I feel your body's heat of passion, and smell your skin's smell of fragrance,
Relishing every second of this fusion of passion, and motion of union, ignited by your beauty's essence,
As we unite in a passion of chastity, purity, and eternity,
By the candles of communion, and within the roses of rejuvenation.

BY THE CANDLES, WITHIN THE ROSES...

From the moment I set my eyes on you,
I knew you were the one for me,
From the day I first kissed you,
I was certain our love was meant to be,
So through thick and thin, I stood by you,
'Cos our lives together, I longed to see,
And I envisioned the day when by the candles, and within the roses,
We shall unite in a passion, so soulful and beyond the flesh...

When you spoke to me, your voice so soft, was soothing,
And when you touched me, your hands so tender, were healing,
Your personality is unique, and your beauty indescribable;
Your beauty lacks artificiality, its originality is indisputable,
Baby, when you appear, the moon stops to smile, and the wind comes to a stand still;
All the elements of nature know your beauty is real,
So when I found you, it was like finding a treasure,
So I remained chaste, and on you, I put no pressure,
'Cos I looked forward to the day when by the candles, and within the roses,
I shall explore this beauty that is now mine...