I've been working on this my writing thing and it's been fun so far. I've actually done it with a bit of trepidation but being able to do something constantly has filled me with so much joy. It's like I've recently discovered myself. True. :)
Anyway, so writing instructor asked me to do a story in the second person and my last post was my supposed attempt to write something in the second person. if you see the kain yab wey my teacher yab me ehn.... But being a sweetheart that he is, he told me to go and read one girl's blog and see how she wrote a particular post. Like a light bulb going on in my head, I immediately knew what to do.
His response Now you know what I asked you to do. this is still not good enough sha, work harder
Anywya, I hope you guys sha like it.
The sound of crashing thunder, the howl of the winds threatnening to take down everything in their path; the smell of the rain and the the striking of lightning leaving in its trail a glare bright enough to give an illusion of daylight. But you know better, you know that with every drop of the rain a darkness spreads within you. It is not enough to say that after the storms come a calm, because you know that with every storm, there has been another, and another and still another. You live because you are too much of a coward to do otherwise.
There is singing, and even though the people singing it are standing all around you, you can only hear it in a distance.
“when peace like a river
Attendeth my way
When sorrows like seas billows roll
Whatever my lot, thou hath taught me to say
Even then, it is well, with my soul”
How can there be peace in the midst of this crashing thunder? The skies howl loudly again and you gaze up at the sky, the showers of the rain, like the tears of the sky. Nature seems to get how you feel, no one else seems to. You stare in silence, and you hear the words “dust to dust, ashes to ashes”, you don’t remember how the little shovel got into your hand, but you’re pouring the sand into the pit. You’re counting “one, two, three…”. Someone nudges you, people are milling around, all with words of comfort “Ireti, it is well. Be strong” “Take it easy Ireti. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh”. Strong arms hold you and pull you away. “Baby, let’s go home”
Like a dam whose barriers are broken down, that word “home” breaks something down, something you’ve managed to hold in for exactly. You realize there is no “home”, there is nowhere to go, there is nowhere called “home”. You let out a loud guttural scream and crumble right there on the ground
“No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I want my baby. Give me back my baby. I want my son. I want my son.”
The heavens open up some more, it is raining heavily now, you're on the floor. It doesn't matter that you're sitting in the red sand on the grounds of Earthen Vaults. The roll of thunder is inside and outside of you. You do not want it to stop because it has become a familiar sound. You're one with thunder. It has become a part of you.
"Ireti, Ireti, Ireti"
"I can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
'gainst my window (against my window)
I can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
'gainst my window (against my window)"
Missy Elliot's voice fills your head, your head is against the car door and the rain drops hit the window pane. With every slap of the rain, you’re transported to another time and place. It was another time when the storms of infertility and miscarriages rocked the boat of your existence. With every miscarriage you realize that something lays within you that is able to stand irrespective of the storms of life, you trudge on and yet again, it hits. Sorrow, tears, and blood like tidal waves and each one came with a force strong enough to topple and somehow you find an anchor. You reach out for him and his hand squeezes yours, he holds on to him. The car stops for a second you are back to the present reality and you realize the tears are from your eyes and the blood flows from your heart. The sorrow lingers deep within your soul. You feel the pressure on your hand again, you don’t turn around, and he doesn’t expect you to. He’s telling you without words “We are going to make it through this, together”
After years of trying to have a baby, you’re blessed with a baby boy. You choose to call him “Tamilore” because he’s nothing short of a blessing from God. He’s a good boy, the star and the light of your life. He’s the reason for which you get up in the morning and go to work, because you want him to have the best things you can give him. So you go to work and you come back every day, knowing that you’ve been blessed thoroughly.
“Ireti, where are you? I need you to come home now” It was downhill from then on. The words keep flashing through you head. You’re hearing it all over again, you’re reliving the last 7 days in your head again. “Kidnapped”, “ransom”, “ten million”, “confirmatory call”
The ‘confirmatory call’ never came. The money was taken to the drop off point. You know this because you stood anxiously by the door as they drove out of the house. Willing to remain at the door till your 9 year-old runs into your arms screaming “mama” you stand there till it starts raining, and then you go inside. He’ll come home. Home, where you all belong.
"God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change
The courage to change the things I can
And the wisdom to know the difference"
The car pulls into the driveway of the house and there’s stillness in the air. You are still staring out of the window, but it takes a minute before you realise that the rain has stopped. The door of the car is being opened and you’re being helped out of the car you realise that the sun is shining brightly. The dark clouds have given way for a clear blue canvas spread in the sky. There’s a rainbow in the horizon, you squint while trying to look at it, with a desire to put things into perspective, you stop and stare. People are milling around, there’s an uncomfortable silence, and everyone is waiting for you to take that first step towards the house. The step which indicates the rest of your life is continuing without Tamilore. The one which says you’re willing to move on.
You’re being held by your shoulders; support.
“We’ll be fine love”
You turn and stare at him. Swollen eyes , the result of sleepless nights. Days and nights of liasing with the police and the security detail from the office, working tirelessly to bring your little boy back home, all to no avail.
The clear blue skies bear no indication of the turmoil that preceded it. The rainbow which lines the edge of the blue canopy does not in any way let on that there had been a rumble in the sky, an outpouring of rain. ‘Twas all gone, the darkness; and like a new sheet spread across the wide expanse of the sky a new day.
You step forward, knowing that irrespective of the thunders, and the storm, there is always the sunshine that comes after it. He who holds the canopy of the sky with his hands is not going to live you nor forsake you.
So with an outstretched hand, you take the hand of your husband and your best friend and you take a step forward, into forever.