Ashes,
It was all there in Ashes, Huge pieces of my heart, the fragile pages from my soul, my emotions and feeling,
The huge piece of me, The words that gave me bursts of life,
The remnants of me, The piece of my life that I cluged tightly to.
All burnt to Ashes.
My sight followed the flame that came from it, as it formed a hazel then disappear into nothingness. It's all gone, reduced to nothing but ashes.
Here in my small village Abakpa, where they women where taught to cook and clean. Bore children and serve their husbands on their knee. Learning the art of tending the house , their husbands and children. And not writing or dreaming of futures beyound the kitchen.
I was a shadow to the villagers,the whispers of the elders, “What does she think she is?" “An okro that wants to grow taller than the farmer”
And the sharp glances from the women, The giggles from the young lads.They all whispered the same words, “why teach a girl to read and write?””she must be delusional”.
Then to the okonkwo family, I was the rebel.
So in silence I learned, In the dark, I learned. I had to sneak into the classroom in the mornings during my rounds to the stream, borrow books from the kind teacher who understood my hunger for learning, and have been coaching me.
And also have been sending off my work to the big cities through mails.
After my chores I hid in the dark. Within the walls of our mud house, I found freedom in my notebooks.
I wrote about the world I read about in books, Worlds beyound my small village.
My words carried me beyond the village to places I could only dream of. Cities where women wrote history, where they stood tall beside men, where they were heard.
I wrote about a future where I could stand and speak with my voice unbroken. About seasons and nature. About the power of the sizzling wind and silence of the stars. About the village and the mediocre in it. About the new world coming.
My writings were my escape.
I knew better than to tell anyone,the women and ladies would have laughed at me.
And my father would have me struck down with harsh words.
Mama would give me the cold glare that keeps telling me that she is disappointed.
And maybe the elder, will conclude that I spill abomination yet again.
So I kept them hidden,at the back of my drawers, or beneath stacked utensils and clothes, where no one will find them.
Then the letter came, I got it from the kind teacher, I could feel my heart racing . An acceptance letter from a local publisher. The words danced on the pages as I read them, confirming what I have been wishing. A publisher wanted my work. They want to share my work with the world.
The thought of my words being read by people beyond Abakpa and my father's narrow view filled me with hope.
A hope so bright that it felt like the rise of a new dawn in my chest. Made me dance all the way to the stream, Without minding the usual glaces.
But that same evening the news came,I was going to be married off . I would be handed over in marriage to a stranger, just like the sheep, who had no choice than to follow it's buyer home.
Someone have been chosen for me,It doesn't matter what I wanted or whether I was ready, whether I had dreams or not.
No, my future was already written for me,just like every other girl in Abakpa. Marriage was my duty.
I tried to fight it, I cried and I begged. But for them, that's my fate.
I ran out of the house, I ran and cried for as far as my legs could carry . I didn’t care about where I was running to, I just wanted to go away from this cruelty and to breathe, to think.
I don't know how long I was gone but when I came back, the sun was down, and I was breathless and broken.
Everywherwas quiet, I met my youngest brother Detu at the entrance of house, staring at me with pity in his eye.
Something was wrong.
I broke into the room,And papa was standing there, with the pile of ashes on his feet.
I ran back to my room and frantically started searching for my work , it's wasn't at the back of the old drawers neither were they beneath the old stack of clothes.
I ran to the sitting room,looked at my father's face and he had this looks of satisfaction on his face. Like a finally.
It dawned on me,my dreams.
He burnt them to ashes .
I sank to my knee, my fingers shaking as touched the blackened remnants.
It's was like feeling my soul and finding it gone. Those papers carried my life. The dreams that had once danced in the lights before me, now smoldered to nothingness.
I wanted to scream but nothing came out,the tears fell out but they did nothing to redeem me.
I grieved on my knees not just for the lost piece, but for the human it made me.
I just grieved silently.
Then I realized something,I have been silent for too long, and have been hiding behind the world of my father's narrow vison.
Kneeling before the ashes of my own dreams, something stirred inside me, if could survive this, if I will find a way to rise from these ashes, I would one day speak again.
But not in the way they expected. Not in silence. But with the strength that lies in every word that I have written before. With every loud spirit of defiance, I will write to the cities , climb through hills with my ink, and I will keep fighting with my sword of ink.
It will get to the right places, To the right regulations,I will make Abakpa hear about the new world, where girls do not only end as mother's and housewives,But can also dream.
I rose slowly, wiping away the tears and packing up the ashes.
These ashes could never hold down my spirit.
I will recall them to life again, with my ink.