Unbreakable

chapter 7

The Day Everything Changed

My precious hair was the next thing they took away from me.

I begged my aunt again and again not to cut it. I cried and pleaded with her, hoping she would change her mind. My hair meant a lot to me. It was one of the few things that still made me feel like myself.

But she refused to listen.

She told me that I was keeping witches in my hair, and that she could not afford to pay for my hair anymore. According to her, cutting it was the only solution.

Hearing those words broke my heart.

I felt powerless.

No matter how much I cried or begged, she had already made up her mind.

Not long after that, I was told to prepare myself because I would be going back to Kaduna.

It was around December 22, 2012.

When she told me this, I was confused at first. I asked her why I suddenly had to leave.

Her answer shocked me.

She said she could not continue living in the same house with someone who was “possessed.”

Those words hurt me deeply.

Even though I was sad that she believed such things about me, another feeling slowly began to grow inside my heart.

Hope.

For the first time in a long while, I realized I might finally leave that house and go back to my family.

When my aunt looked at my face, she could see the excitement I was trying to hide.

I think that made her angry.

She noticed that I was happy about leaving her house and going back home.

But I could not help it.

The thought of leaving behind the suffering, the hunger, the fear, and the beatings gave me a small sense of peace.

I believed that once I returned home, my life would finally become better.

But something happened that shocked me.

While I was packing my things, I discovered that I had almost nothing of my own.

After living in that house for two years, I realized I had no real belongings.

No proper clothes.

No valuables.

Nothing.

At that moment, sadness filled my heart again.

I thought about all the years I had spent there and how little it had meant.

Then came the moment I feared the most.

My aunt called a hairstylist.

I still hoped she might change her mind.

But she did not.

The hairstylist began cutting my hair.

As the hair fell to the ground, I felt tears running down my face.

I could not stop crying.

My hair became so short that I barely recognized myself.

When the cutting was finished, the hairstylist suggested making the hair look nicer by styling it.

But my aunt refused.

She said there was no need for that.

In her words, it was not necessary because I was going home anyway.

Even though I was hurt by what had happened, I tried to calm myself.

I reminded myself that very soon I would be leaving that house.

And once I left, none of these things would matter anymore.

No matter how painful the moment was, I believed my life would finally begin to change.

But deep inside, I still did not know what was waiting for me next.