MY JOURNEY TO BECOMING WHOLE

Trigger Warning: This chapter contains references to child abuse. Reader discretion advised. I was ten when I learned that smiles can lie. Uncle K had the biggest smile in our village. When he visited from the city, Mama would kill a chicken. Papa would bring out his best kola nut. I would be sent to fetch water, to sweep, to kneel and greet. "Our brilliant daughter," they would say. "She will make us proud." That night, everyone slept. The house was full of laughter and the smell of Mama's soup. I was proud too, until I felt his hand over my mouth. There was no knife that I could see. But something sharp cut through my childhood and left it in pieces on that mat. His smile never dropped. Not once. In the morning, he hugged me before he left. "My clever girl," he said to Papa. "Take care of her." I did not tell. In our house, children were seen, not heard. Good girls did not bring shame to the family name. Good girls did not lie about their elders. So I became a very good girl. I learned to split myself in two. At school, I joined the drama group. On stage, I was Juliet, I was Queen Amina, I was everyone except myself. The applause was loud. It drowned out the memory of his breath. When I acted, I could be whole for one hour. Then the curtain fell, and the broken pieces of me would gather in the dark again. I was ten when I learned that some wounds do not bleed. They just live inside you, quiet and patient, waiting for the day you decide to stop smiling and start speaking. This is the day I started.