My family traveled home for the yuletide season. I had expectations of wanting to experience all there is to spending christmas in our autochthonous home.
It was a warm Christmas eve.
After the day’s bustle, we retired in, in anticipation of the long awaited christmas. Chatters and laughter echoed the air as we sat engrossed in flippant gists.
My interest heightened when my siblings conversed about attending the service usually held in churches – “cross over night”. I ran to my mom to let me go with them as i wanted to know what it is like with the bangers i heard pervading the air. You won’t blame me.
We seldomly travel home. I was curious to know all there is.
Of course, mothers and intuition or is it clairvoyancy? She declined my request and for some reasons, she too didn’t want to go.
But i kept insisting, pleading and crying. She was left with no choice than to let me go with my sisters. A child i was, i only wanted to experience all there is for a “Christmas season”. Maybe i would have stayed back if i foresaw it. Well, i didn’t! So i marched on.
Then, Life happened!
Few metres away from home, I was hit by a motorcycle while running away from the banger i had wanted to experience. What seemed like a happy yuletide season came crashing into a bowl of sadness in minutes.
There i laid on the ground with my leg stuck in between the tire wheel with the cyclist still on the move, trying to run away from what had happened. He was chased and he couldn’t speed real fast with my leg stuck in between the wheel so he stopped. I only muttered, “let me try to stand, let me try to walk”. Then i fell.
For days, i laid unconscious. My left tibia (the larger bone of the leg below the knee) broke, cutting out through my flesh. Out of desperation, i was taken to a local bone setter.
He applied God knows what on my leg and it turned sore, blisters all over, my bone became visible as my flesh decayed and my toe fingers starting getting dark and fell off one after the other.
After weeks, i was finally taken to an orthopedic hospital. I spent a year there. A whole lot of work was done including skin crafting to cover up visible bones. It didn’t just leave a scar, it left scars. The scars seem to be like an attraction.
I get scared going out because I’m tired of being a “pity object”.
Just a step out and the world is already yelling “eyaa! Sorry”.
Okon on the other hand, shakes his head like he just saw an abomination. Or should i mention Nneka who taps her friend to behold what she just saw.
I innocently walk into a crowd and the world stands still for seconds before recovering; the stares, the pity glances and all. I am tired of being underestimated cos well, they think, “what can she offer or do”.
And rejection is a talk for another day.
I’m human too! I only got scars!
I know we’re humans and we tend to get emotional. But that doesn’t mean we make another feel less of a human in the process. I’m tired of the pity show.
Life happened to me and it’s unfortunate mine is visible.
Not everyone wants the pity show. Not everyone enjoys getting asked “what happened to you?” It’s rude really especially when it’s from a total stranger. Those pity statements or gestures could be said or done intending no harm but it psychologically and emotionally affects the other party.
Treat people with scars, a challenge or the other as humans, same regard and esteem you give to the unscarred should be given to us too.
Life happened to us, we no kill person.
To all of us with scars, we have to stay strong. We’re survivors! And remember, your scar displays your strength, your courage and your beauty… And when people see you, let them see beauty in scars.
My name is Wazor.
I’m a survivor.