by Obioma Okafor
This is a small story about my sister. Our oldest actually.
There was a time she used to be an angel. I mean this literally. She was that nice it was nearly pushing to a fault.
She doesn’t say much, or scream. She easily let go of things. Even things ordinarily one wouldn’t easily let go of.
My sister was peace, just as her name said it. Peace.
I liked her so much. We all do.
Then one day she changed. Suddenly and completely. I can’t explain it. None of us could.
She barked at even the slightest provocation and would be ready to fight to the death.
It surprised us all.
So very much. We didn’t understand it—the reason behind her sudden change. It was that strange we often came together to talk about it.
We are a family of five siblings. Excluding her that was oldest, I came after a boy and another boy and a girl came after me.
We would sit together and ask each other questions—if anyone knew what was wrong with our first-born.
Udoamaka, that was her name. She looked so much like my mother, yet with my father’s strength.
Strength she never used, we never even knew she had. Until she became someone else.
She turned a fighter, a noise–maker and would often sit by herself grumbling.
It was saddening. Greatly so. Most times I felt I was the more bothered. For you see, we were very close.
Used to be...before she became the tiger we were all scared of and avoided.
But there is a limit to her aggression that we could take. Each and every one of us.
It wasn’t long that we started to fight back, scream back…survive her.
One evening, she and our youngest fought. Over a pair of scissors.
It hurt me. Their noise jarred on my head. I was terribly disturbed.
But the next day something very bad happened.
We lost our sister.
She’d cut herself in the night and bled to death in her room.
I never understood it. I still don’t.
It was the most awful feeling ever.
I blamed myself and others and even my parents.
In the blood-stained piece of paper we found beside her body, she’d written, ‘Okwa ihe mere ede o jiri bee nwii.’
It is an Igbo proverb, translating: ‘It is something that caused the cocoyam to cry out.’
My sister knew a pain we didn’t know.
Harboured it all alone.
She didn’t talk to us.
But we didn’t ask questions either. Or maybe we did, but not just hard enough.
We didn’t try enough.
It was that crazy.
I would have said with this experience that it would be the best thing to always speak out whenever the pain becomes too hard for you to bear, but what do I know?
Like my boss, Dan, would say: a problem shared is not always a problem solved.
From sharing it, it might escalate to something else.
But then if you keep on keeping it in, what if it suddenly explodes within you?
It’s just a crazy world out there.
So very crazy.
indeed dis world is crazy, and nt easy. wht u need 2 do is face it lyk a soldier. relate nd share ur problems wit people dat re nt wide mouthed, and I tell u, u will be glad u did. Be well.
I shared my problem and am feeling better, of a recent actually. Its sad but we have to always try hard. Nice write up in her remembrance…
A movie that I can relate this story to is the animation 'inside out'.cool movie.Happens to a lot of folks out there.
I av learnt not to share but to face it head on by God's grace. It's well.
hmmm sad
Can't find the other post again. What happened?
Sorry that post was put up by mistake. We are supposed to publish 'A Crazy Word' today not 'Crazy Facts'.
It was my mistake.
Aw ……..she is jst like me I don't share my problems……cos nobodi will understnd……..
BTw…..dis ur interpretation of dat proverb r u sure its correct????cocoyam dey cry???…..its nt ede but ebe….dats yam beetle…..@obioma okafor
#datcuteibogirl#
Crazy world indeed. it good to share problem thou, atleast it keeps one mind at peace to no someone understand ur pain
It good to share one problem. atleast it keep ur mind at peace to no someone understand ur pain. crazy world indeed
The worst thing that can happen to u is keeping ur pains n worries all to urself. Belive me it kills more Dan death itself. Learn to share ur problems bt only to the wise ones. Crazy n mean world indeed
hmmmm. can't help myself but speak out. I don't tell anybody anyhow. people higher than me. its well
Some life experience we cannot say, some pain we CNT share, some feelings we can't expressed
It is ede oooo just asked my grandmother noe. She said you hear a sound wen you cut a cocoyam with knife
K
If you can't share it with human tell it to Jesus. Take your problems to the Lord and leave it there.
What do we when d difficulty faced is not trusting one enough to speak sense to you. Maybe why we feel no one understands is because they fail to say what we really want them to say. Sth that immediately puts all aright. But sometimes all we need do is just talk to a person worthy to listen.
Tried speaking out often but get hurt twice d pain. Better tell God n let him deal with it.