Uncaged

Birth of the caged.

I was born caged, along the way I was uncaged(at least that was what I thought). unfortunately, I caged myself without the help of anyone but right now I am sure I am Uncaged.

I am Vera, I want to think I am a regular girl even though a lot of people seemed to tell me that my birth was divine. Let me tell you about my background.

I was born into a family of three(3) and like every typical African family, we were over eight(8) living in my house aside my parents. Growing up for me, was a mixture of tough, fun and everything in between. It was tough because we had to live like refugees in our house. We were like six living in a small room, some slept on the bare floor. Imagine being bullied by your older relatives your parents were trying to help out. Imagine not having the full parental presence you desire because your parents were trying to be everything to your relatives to please them and nothing to you. Imagine being a slave in your own house. Imagine being lost and confused and still had no one to speak to. I was all of these at some point growing up.

A lot played out in my life that I couldn't handle and I still couldn't speak up about because I didn't have anyone to talk to. Even though I was a bold child, the older I got the more I questioned this virtue. My boldness was been tampered with at home and low self-esteem started getting the best of my life. I was shy, afraid, confused and I felt useless especially among my peers. Rose had parental love, so also Esther, Sarah and a lot of other kids. why was I different?

I looked happy on the outside which most times was pretense but inside I was another struggling child who just wanted to be loved, cherished, appreciated and respected. Unfortunately, in Africa it feels like all these things I needed were a crime to even be thought of talk more of asking for it. I grew up among people who felt it was a crime for a person younger than themselves to be respected. I grew up among people who were wicked yet claimed they were training me. I grew up among up thinking poverty and lack was a way of life and was how God wanted us to live.

I grew up with more hate than love. I grew up in a house where I had to write letters to my parents which never got answered. I couldn't even have a proper conversation with the people who brought me into this world. They were very busy trying to make ends meet and to feed over eight kids in the house.

The responsibility of child training were left to the hands of the relatives who were angels when my parents were at home and demons immediately they turned their backs.

I was born into a religious home like most Africans. Where poverty was a virtue and riches a sin. I was taught constantly about the do's and dont's if I ever wanted to make heaven. Lying of course was one of the dont's. I remember the day I vowed to be a consistent liar because I was tired of always being doing what I was meant to do to make heaven and seeing no results. My senior cousin sent me to fill a bottle of water to give a guest, which I did. Next thing she started complaining that why did I fetch the water that way and when I tried to explain to her that I didn't fetch it the way she thought I did, she bombarded my ears with morality talks and religious views and insults. Another encounter I had with her, was a day she sent me to check something for her inside the house. I reported to her promptly, later she claimed that I never did and I was even knocked. The funniest of everything was the day I tried to be an advocate for myself by standing up to one of the confrontations by my relative. I was given a cup of water to rinse my mouth and spit out the water because by so doing, the devil in my mouth would be washed away.