By Margaret Tshiamiso Seleke

Stitches made a stripe-like pattern on my back. I guess we shall live happily ever after. Because until my soul departs from my cover that has been tattooed then I will have it. It’s like a long road to freedom.

My scar is lovely! It comes with wisdom. But when pedicle screws ache like I’m about to take my last breath. Then my scar becomes a misery. That’s when thousands of thoughts flood my mind. I find myself asking myself questions about humankind. Facts become questionable because they are exceptions in every scenario.

I guess I will always have guidance on how to live my life. My beautiful scar does it all and it brings me closer to almighty if I’m weary. I always have been that free-spirited being who is full of life and tenacity. My beautiful scar taught me to appreciate the little things.

Why did I get tattooed if I may wonder? I was told I can’t bear a child. I was going to lose my legs. But why does it feels like it was in vain? Or is fear stealing my peace?

I have fought like a warrior I was told. My doctors and many were impressed with my progress. They then believed the Setswana saying that in comes in small packages; we can be so small yet powerful (Setswana sare sele sennye botlhale se bo tsaya kae). But in my case, they didn’t know where I got my strength from.

I was sustained and strengthened. And I don’t know how to thank enough for the life I now have.

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*Margaret Tshiamiso Seleke is a banker. She lives and writes from Botswana.