by Jennifer Chioma Amadi
Childhood is one phase that has so much influence on every individual. This is where the training that the adult usually does not depart from when he is old is acquired. Though we may learn other things while growing, experiences, memories and most scars sustained from childhood are usually carried throughout one’s life.
Growing up a child born out of wedlock, I was told my father wanted me aborted but my mother stood her ground and with the support of my father’s parents, she had me. When their relationship eventually hit the rocks, she left with me. Unfortunately, she didn’t have enough resources to take care of herself, much more carter for me. So my father’s siblings took custody of me and from then on, I became everyone’s and at the same time no one’s property.
My father’s siblings took up courage by bringing me to live with them and having to hide me from my father, not because they wanted to deprive me of seeing him but to shroud me from a relationship he was not interested in.
To my father, I was a liability and a mistake that never should have happened.
My life went pretty well without him because my aunt had me attend one of the best schools affordable, I was properly fed and clothed. Although our neighbourhood wouldn’t be considered as best for raising a child, with them I was happy.
Eventually, my first stepmother found out about me when I wrote my father informing him of my seventh year birthday. He had, I was told, simply torn the letter and thrown it away. He opened up to her about me, when she confronted him about having found paper pieces in their bin with a child’s handwriting.
Few days later and they both would be coming to see me and for the first time, I met my father.
My stepmother was nice to me. She embraced me and asked me to come live with them. I simply obliged since she was at the time, expecting my baby brother.
My decision, childish as it was to my father’s siblings, did not bode well with them. They were against my father’s marriage choice and were convinced that as a child, I was not to make that decision alone.
After much deliberations, they gave in and so, shipped me over to my father’s house.That became a new phase for me.
I was only seven when I moved in with my father and stepmother. Things were, as it would seem for a moment, beginning to look up and even though my previous school was way better than the new school, I now had a better neighbourhood.
All that changed however, after my half-brother was born. I got beaten often for my childish mistakes such as forgetting to inform them about a finished diaper, returning with a wrong item when sent on an errand, putting the wrong clothes in the wrong bag and even putting on my clothes wrongly. Besides the physical abuse, I also experienced the emotional abuse with names like “mumu”, “olodo”, “idiot” etc becoming a norm. As a result, I just couldn’t see myself beyond all that I was called, the seemingly warm, embracing stepmother who got my father to bring me home suddenly changed and home, became hell.
My father, usually in his “you were the one who wanted her here in the first place” expression, saw nothing wrong with this change and remained silent and unconcerned even when my screams were loud and my tears river-like, flowed.
My constant plea for his visiting siblings to take me back with them were futile. Unfortunately, I was a ball, no longer in their courts. So I lived in fear daily, dreaded school overs, had no one to talk and nowhere to run to.
The resulting decline in my academic performance went unnoticed until my younger brother came of his pre-school age. He and I were to be enrolled in a new school.
I couldn’t even make it past the new school’s interview. My father and step-mother had to plead on my behalf to be admitted by the school’s owner. Still, at the end of my first term, I was last in my class and my stepmother mocked. During the second term, my father took an interest in the need for my academic improvement and so employed my class teacher to take me on extra lessons. This was a life changing development as she became my confidant and only source of encouragement. With her, I was free to make mistakes and was corrected with love. She showed me what true kindness was about and was always willing to listen. Where I saw nothing in myself, she saw a becoming lady with a much better future. Of course, my grades got better and better until I left a year later. Though I spent just one year under her tutelage, meeting my teacher changed my life forever.
Two years into their marriage, quarrels, abuses and fights became a norm for my father and step-mother. We barely ever had peace at home. My father was always quick to raise his hand at my step-mother and she was always quick to run to her parent’s house whenever they had a fight. After several reconciliations, they eventually got divorced and that became the dawn of another new phase for me.
Years down the line, I found myself struggling with unforgiveness especially for my father. I thought him responsible for everything that I’d been through and for this reason, never really had a close relationship with him. I also struggled with insecurity, feeling unloved, unwanted, and obviously cheated. Not to mention, I had a low self-esteem and felt my mates had better lives than I did.
I’m much better now, having embraced God’s unconditional, undying, unfailing and yet undeserving love, I now believe that no one can love us this same way. Even if this was what I craved for as a child, I stopped depending on people for love. I have also learnt that forgiveness is the greatest gift anyone could give to themselves because it does more harm to its container than its target.
In growing into the best phase of my life, the first step I had to take was to forgive. Though it wasn’t an easy thing for me to do, letting go of the past has as expected given room for brighter future.
The past might not be forgotten, but I no longer let it rule my life.
Being a young adult, I have come to realize that everything that happened in my life happened for reason. Sometimes God uses our situations or challenges and even people; good or bad, to bring out the best in us. In those painful situations, He molds, builds and teaches us. In the end, we become wiser, stronger and better than we were.
Though, good homes and a bright childhood usually produce stable and untainted individuals, it is a choice to allow contrary situations make or just mar us.
“You either get bitter or you get better.” It’s that simple. You either take what has been dealt to you and allow it to make you a better person, or you allow it to tear you down. The choice does not belong to fate, it belongs to you”- Josh Shipp
The turn out of our lives is dependent on the choices we make and not what was done to us or what experiences we have been through. However painful, we can choose to evolve through the pain.
In conclusion, our past does not always determine our future. My greatest resolves has resulted in a personal mantra; “it can only get better” no matter the situation.
This entry was submitted as part of the Nigerian Voices competition organized by YNaija.com.
We publish, un-edited, Nigerians telling the stories of their everyday lives. Read all the narratives daily on the Nigerian Voices vertical. You can also contribute your own story titled ‘Nigerian Voices’ to info@ynaija.com.
