NOSTALGIA

Story Time With Abbie

Nostalgia

I'm reading this book, "Only Big BumBum Matters Tomorrow" by Damilare Kuku, and there's this part where Temi and Ladun were subjected to three days of dry fasting at a convention by their Big Mummy. I have a similar experience I'd like to share. I'm going to tell this story exactly how I remember it; come with me on this memory lane

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I have not seen anyone look so majestic in a pink checkered uniform like Caleb. Caleb was tall, fair, and had the prettiest eyes. I vividly remember what he looked like, but I'm not sure about now, since I haven't heard from him or seen him since I left that school. I was between the ages of 8 and 9 when I first met him.

I had this very beautiful pink journal that I took as a diary, and wrote exactly how I felt in it. As a child, I found it difficult to express myself in words, so I'd either write down how I felt or let my attitude speak for me. Take, for instance, if you offended me, I'll rather stick my nose in the air and ignore you till I feel ready to speak to you again or result to crying at any minor inconvenience.

Caleb lived a stone's throw from my house, and on some days, we would walk to school together, inhaling the pungent smell of urine and feces in the nearby bushes. Those moments meant a lot to me back then because I had a really troubled childhood and always looked for a way of escaping it. Don't worry, I never ran away from home.

Aside from knowing the color of Caleb's house gate, black, I knew nothing about him; he was a mystery to me. I didn't know if he had other friends; I had never seen his parents or siblings. I just knew we attended the same school.

That Friday, during assembly, it was announced that a well-known TV station would be coming to the school the following Monday. This got everyone excited; we were told to be well-dressed and on our best behavior. I was really looking forward to this. It gave the same feeling as when your school announces they'll be going on an excursion.

On this particular Sunday, I can still remember the weather that day because of how much my father scolded me under the scorching sun. I sat beside some girls in the children's department of our church at the time, and they were talking about their crushes and the boys in their class, which was quite common for kids our age. The girls teased me and scowled at me for not having a crush. I already felt they looked down on me for how I dressed, so I finally gave in and showed them my pink diary where I wrote about Caleb and our walks to school.

Unknown to me, there was an usher behind us; she picked me and the other girls, then took us to her office. I was so scared that day; I dreaded my father's beating and insults, so I cried till my throat hurt, and there were no more tears to cry. The parents of the other girls came to pick them up, one by one; they all disappeared. The parents of the other girls didn't seem as mad as I expected them to be. Maybe they're spoilt, I said to myself. If I remember vividly, one of the girls' dads even got her an ice cream - you know, the ones we buy after a proper Nigerian church service? Ehen, that one; visualize it.

The wait and anxiety came to an end as I saw my father, a tall, dark-skinned, well-built man approaching the office. This wicked usher had no idea what she had done, I thought to myself. I feared for myself. Will I get beaten? Will I get punished? Will I get tongue-lashed? What will it be? As I write this, I feel anxious, relieving that day; I can feel a lump in my throat, and my stomach churns.

The usher spoke to my father in hushed tones; he thanked her as we left the church premises. My father stood under a tree and scolded me; I couldn't make out what he said because my mind was so fixed on what the punishment would be. On getting home that day, my father finally told me the punishment I'd be receiving for my misdemeanor. I was instructed to embark on a 3-day dry fast and prayers, which meant I'd miss school from Monday till Wednesday, miss my first opportunity of appearing on TV, and miss out on the activities for that special day in school.

I remember my first day at the prayer meeting; you could see the absolute disdain written all over my face. The deliverance minister asked me to kneel; he then placed a hand on my forehead and kept pushing my head till I gave in and fell down. I didn't

want him thinking my resistance meant that the “bad spirit” in me was resisting exorcism. I didn’t understand the reason for that punishment then; I don’t understand it now, if I am being honest. I was a child; how could I have known that liking a boy would put me in so much trouble?

You know what hurts the most? I saw my colleagues on TV - I saw them smiling and screaming their thank-yous to the TV station. They were even given orange goody bags; I remember the color of the goody bag. I finished my three-day dry fast, resumed school, and as for Caleb, I don’t remember if I ever spoke to him again. What did that punishment teach me? Absolutely nothing!

The punishment I received for liking Caleb left a bitter taste in my mouth, one that lingered long after the three-day dry fast ended. It taught me that my feelings weren't valid, that I was wrong to express them. But as I grew older, I realized that the bitterness wasn't just about the punishment – it was about the silence, the shame, and the fear that came with it. I'm still working to undo the damage, to learn that my emotions are worthy of expression and respect. The experience may have taught me 'absolutely nothing' at the time, but it has become a painful reminder of the importance of self-love and acceptance.