‘And when we fly,
when we defy the laws of physics,
when we defy the laws of biology,
the laws of the world,
then I’d find the peace I yearn,
the tranquillity as the air,
rushes into my face, slowly, slowly,
it grants me my ever sought peace.’
Jolting me out of my dreams, like cold water poured on the skin on a very chilly morning, the present crept up on me. I wasn’t in control, that I was sure. I was just a pawn in their hands, just a tool for carrying out their actions. I remember always conversing with them, my mother would catch me and yank my ears, asking me why I was talking to myself. I would point at them, and my mother would ask who it was I was pointing at.
She eventually got tired, and following an advice from her best friend, I was dragged to a white room, on each corner of the room, red feathers were hung. A man dressed in a white wrapper, along with his disciples, who were also scantily dressed came out with brooms, the kind mother used to dust off cobwebs from the walls in the kitchen.
The man came forward, speaking in a language I didn’t understand. He came closer and droplets of saliva dropped from his mouth to my face. I looked left and saw my mother, with tears in her eyes, praying furiously. After the man had spoken for a while, he fell on the ground and his disciples came and fanned him with raffia hand fans.
With the speed of lightening, the man, who I later came to know as ‘Woli’ got up. He crept slowly towards me and began hitting me with a broom. He began to chant, ‘ja elo, elo’. His disciples, like the backup singers that sang in my church, chanted along with him. After about 5 minutes of doing this, Woli looked at me and saw that, despite the fact that my skin was bruised, I hadn’t even let out a sniff, much less cry. My hands and legs were tied so I couldn’t move freely. Woli moved closer and intensified the hitting. I just stared at my legs for a little while, and then I struck.