Afro Tori; In Shreds by Afamefuna Uche & Oni Toyosi (Part 2)
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The smell of misery and agony lingered around the old patchy room whose foundation has been attacked by the copious, gigantic insects in Eke. I sat with a fresh-scarred memory reminiscing about my ritual.
An anecdote about the usual trend in the heart beat of Eke was depicted again; the great betrayal of womanhood once again was illustrated, a woman had been molested, degraded and reduced by the community, the community who saw women as cooled, waxed weak, decayed bone that could be trampled upon at any time, who treated women with disparagement and distortion, who saw them in a dead-pan and inexpressive light, shame faced and belonging to the kitchen.
A community which had clouded the skies of women with darkness, turned their moon to blood and ranged confusion and mockery in their shade, a community where women are caricatures during the day and solemnity at night.
Azuzu had just beaten, molested and raped his wife! Majorly because she tried to speak and explain the cause of the fire that licked dry their food barn which was practically not her fault, he degraded her merciless with his fists and testicles.
Just two days back, Banku had exhibited the same thing on his wife because she questioned the ‘’chasten rituals on women’’ as she tagged it torturous and excruciating. He dealt greatly with her with his hands and erection. This is just one of the many occurrences in the great Akpan where women creed was stupidity and weakness. I remember my ritual vividly as the brightest star upward.
I was bug- eyed as my clothes were stripped off, I stood amiss, I was attacked by a mob of angrily wrinkled women, radiant with spitefulness and quizzical with stress. Before I was aware of making a conscious decision, my legs were snatched and separated.
'No! No! No! Why? What have I done?
Let me free!.....No…..na…..Don’t
Nne…..come! Iyaa na-mama!'
As I called stretching out to my mother, she turned and displayed her back. My pubic hair was shaved keenly and mercilessly with a dazzling smile, and a sharp knife that glowed with the reflection of the sun was raised underneath, my heart thudding like a rock rattling in a box. It pierced the brain and ignited some primeval pathway, and there was my mother’s tears, the cut tore through me like a great shard of glass. I collapsed to the floor as I felt the stabbing pain, as strong as one hundred daggers, sinking and twisting. My whole body was on fire.
The sharp knife courageously chopped off the fresh blood, it was agonizing, a burning feeling, I was inflamed, groaning and screaming with anguish. I struggled slowly, my sense started to send reports back to my brain.
I kept my eyes closed not because I didn’t want to see, but it would hurt too much to open them, my breast hurt, underneath hurt, legs hurt, my mind hurt. Every cut sent ripples of pains from beneath to above, it felt like a sharp-toothed creature eating me from inside.
All these barely seemed enough to them, they clutched my chaste breasts with brim stone cubing it. Every few minutes, I screamed reaching out for my mother, anyone or anything who could save me and then I would go quiet just panting even in my intense silence, I still somehow managed to scream with my whole body as I bleed unattended to.
My pain was an icy wind, choking the breath from my lungs and making a noise around my neck, like a knife being twisted in my spine, paralyzing my body. Throughout my entire life, I’ve never felt that kind of pain.
The pain was an ocean of unknowable depth, it was itchy but I couldn’t scratch: crippling pain.
Argh! I cried
Ten second pass, twenty and thirty and finally the pain would go they said like successful farmers who were weary, but their theory was vague to me. The pain has been freshly scared to my inner most segment and memory has been forever craved in the thick soup of his brain.
It was torturous!
When they were done I grunted as I shifted trying to keep my two legs apart in friction. With each step I took, the pain was amplified. My bloody muscles quivered and my consciousness ebbed.
With an ocean full in my eyes, I say,
'Woe! To those men who see women as those little black keys you bang for two or three minutes and call it a feat.
Who are cowards to the theory of faithfulness and loyalty.
Who see women as plastic lampoon caricature
Who hing a low tag of weakness on the feminine caliber.
Who are the strongest in the bed-room and deficiently drained in the financial room.
Whose standard erection cannot be seen in the core adherence of responsibility but in the tiny hole alone,
Who neglect their offspring for a harlot,
Who subscribe and inflict domestic, intimate torture.
Whose massive strength only gets depicted behind closed doors and becomes a lazy cracked bone in real sense,
Who get toxic with the brand of hard wine and display stupidity on the weaker line with fist power
Whose testicles are aimed at generating abuse and rape inflictions'.
Afamefune Uche & Toyosi Oni
Liked it? Please leave a comment as we would love to hear from you. Thanks.
The smell of misery and agony lingered around the old patchy room whose foundation has been attacked by the copious, gigantic insects in Eke. I sat with a fresh-scarred memory reminiscing about my ritual.
An anecdote about the usual trend in the heart beat of Eke was depicted again; the great betrayal of womanhood once again was illustrated, a woman had been molested, degraded and reduced by the community, the community who saw women as cooled, waxed weak, decayed bone that could be trampled upon at any time, who treated women with disparagement and distortion, who saw them in a dead-pan and inexpressive light, shame faced and belonging to the kitchen.
A community which had clouded the skies of women with darkness, turned their moon to blood and ranged confusion and mockery in their shade, a community where women are caricatures during the day and solemnity at night.
Azuzu had just beaten, molested and raped his wife! Majorly because she tried to speak and explain the cause of the fire that licked dry their food barn which was practically not her fault, he degraded her merciless with his fists and testicles.
Just two days back, Banku had exhibited the same thing on his wife because she questioned the ‘’chasten rituals on women’’ as she tagged it torturous and excruciating. He dealt greatly with her with his hands and erection. This is just one of the many occurrences in the great Akpan where women creed was stupidity and weakness. I remember my ritual vividly as the brightest star upward.
I was bug- eyed as my clothes were stripped off, I stood amiss, I was attacked by a mob of angrily wrinkled women, radiant with spitefulness and quizzical with stress. Before I was aware of making a conscious decision, my legs were snatched and separated.
'No! No! No! Why? What have I done?
Let me free!.....No…..na…..Don’t
Nne…..come! Iyaa na-mama!'
As I called stretching out to my mother, she turned and displayed her back. My pubic hair was shaved keenly and mercilessly with a dazzling smile, and a sharp knife that glowed with the reflection of the sun was raised underneath, my heart thudding like a rock rattling in a box. It pierced the brain and ignited some primeval pathway, and there was my mother’s tears, the cut tore through me like a great shard of glass. I collapsed to the floor as I felt the stabbing pain, as strong as one hundred daggers, sinking and twisting. My whole body was on fire.
The sharp knife courageously chopped off the fresh blood, it was agonizing, a burning feeling, I was inflamed, groaning and screaming with anguish. I struggled slowly, my sense started to send reports back to my brain.
I kept my eyes closed not because I didn’t want to see, but it would hurt too much to open them, my breast hurt, underneath hurt, legs hurt, my mind hurt. Every cut sent ripples of pains from beneath to above, it felt like a sharp-toothed creature eating me from inside.
All these barely seemed enough to them, they clutched my chaste breasts with brim stone cubing it. Every few minutes, I screamed reaching out for my mother, anyone or anything who could save me and then I would go quiet just panting even in my intense silence, I still somehow managed to scream with my whole body as I bleed unattended to.
My pain was an icy wind, choking the breath from my lungs and making a noise around my neck, like a knife being twisted in my spine, paralyzing my body. Throughout my entire life, I’ve never felt that kind of pain.
The pain was an ocean of unknowable depth, it was itchy but I couldn’t scratch: crippling pain.
Argh! I cried
Ten second pass, twenty and thirty and finally the pain would go they said like successful farmers who were weary, but their theory was vague to me. The pain has been freshly scared to my inner most segment and memory has been forever craved in the thick soup of his brain.
It was torturous!
When they were done I grunted as I shifted trying to keep my two legs apart in friction. With each step I took, the pain was amplified. My bloody muscles quivered and my consciousness ebbed.
With an ocean full in my eyes, I say,
'Woe! To those men who see women as those little black keys you bang for two or three minutes and call it a feat.
Who are cowards to the theory of faithfulness and loyalty.
Who see women as plastic lampoon caricature
Who hing a low tag of weakness on the feminine caliber.
Who are the strongest in the bed-room and deficiently drained in the financial room.
Whose standard erection cannot be seen in the core adherence of responsibility but in the tiny hole alone,
Who neglect their offspring for a harlot,
Who subscribe and inflict domestic, intimate torture.
Whose massive strength only gets depicted behind closed doors and becomes a lazy cracked bone in real sense,
Who get toxic with the brand of hard wine and display stupidity on the weaker line with fist power
Whose testicles are aimed at generating abuse and rape inflictions'.
Afamefune Uche & Toyosi Oni
Liked it? Please leave a comment as we would love to hear from you. Thanks.
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