NOT A SICKLED SOUL - #AwakenYourLiteraryMind.........By Yusuf

She always walked amongst them, watching quietly, unseen, unnoticed by her teachers, unnoticed by her classmates, sunk deep in a world of loneliness and silence which was hers alone.

When my sister, Mary, was a child – not too many years from today – she used to think she was the

same as other kids in the playground. She tried to run, jump, shout and clap at all the things other kids ran, jumped, shouted and clapped at. What she didn’t sense was that other kids didn’t make frequent visits to the doctor as she and mummy did. Stomach aches, frequent fevers, swollen legs, deep sores on her feet, the list went on and on and quickly thickened the size of her hospital file and emptied mum’s meager wage. It is only now that she is beginning to understand the meaning of those words – each piercing mummy’s heart as she sat wishing the words could mean something else or at least that dad were alive to share the burden with her – which fell out the doctor’s mouth. “Mary is has sickle cell anemia,” he said rather coldly.

All our lives haven’t been the same since that fateful day. It is said that a problem is half solved when you identify it. I doubt if it applies to Mary’s. We now have a name for what ails her and so she does not have to bear the thoughtless name people called her – Ogbanje - ọmọ ẹmi buburu! But Mary quickly learned that naming it only changed the way she was stigmatized. Now, the girls wouldn’t hang out with her. They boys wouldn’t speak to her although she heard that they frequently spoke about her and how strange they felt she looked. She was practically on her own.

But …

That isn’t all there is about Mary. Her insulted spirit is the strongest I know. She sparks up every day and makes you wonder what made you better than her. To Mary, today is a gift to enjoy, gyrate, and live. When the world shuts her out – as it often does – she goes deep inside and paints pictures full of love, joy, happiness, and tranquility. She once remarked to me when I asked why she was so upbeat, “I have sickled cells not a sickle soul!” Then it hit me. Don’t we, the “normal” ones, often think something is inherently wrong with the HIV patient, the leprous woman, the boy without sight, and the people we call imbeciles? If their unsolicited conditions can collectively be called sickled cells, by rejecting them aren’t we professing to have sickled souls?

Image Credit-Isetfiretotherain