I will one day tell you about why when a storm hits
you, you never recover. After, I will tell you why
I don’t believe in miracles and why each day I live
hoping to die.
I grew up believing I serve an awesome God. I had a mental image of Him as one who never lets his children down. This is why as such I never dreamt of myself with my right leg suspended in the air as if it was one of the exceptions to gravity.
I grew up living next to a pastor, as such I visited his house each day to play with his eleven year old beautiful daughter. I was nine but what I felt towards Delphia was different. In my dreams, we walked on the streets of Kumasi making noise with our childish shoes that gave out lights when hit on a hard surface. Not that I was afraid to tell her, the thing is, her mother was fighting a personal war with the devil. Even when she fell down on her slippery tiles by accident she would pray loudly and rebuke the devil in Jesus’ name.
When the wind blew her hair damaging her exquisite hairstyle, she blamed it on the devil. Let even her forget her handkerchief at home and it will be the devil who will bear the brunt of it. Knowing her mom, I just knew she would say the devil is occupying the rooms in my mind if she should hear I proposed to her daughter. But you know what they say? They say the devil is a good businessman but as a child what I knew for sure was that the body knew what it wants and my body was no different. So day in and day out, I subjected my mind to how I could tell her I loved her without being too suggestive.
One day, we were going to buy a needle for Osoofo Maame because her cloth had been ruined by an innocent nail which was resting on the door thinking about itself. As usual, she opened her Bible to Titus 1:5 and cast out the poor devil that had troubled itself by inhabiting the nail. Often times I wondered how many devils she was fighting.
Everything happened so fast that even when I recall it looks like a movie. I remember we were almost near Auntie Monica’s shop and I held Delphia’s hands. I looked into her eyes and she asked me why I was looking at her strangely. Her lips looked like rose petals, I wanted to kiss her and show her what I felt. Then the image of her mother flashed my mind then I stopped. “Why are you looking at me like that Mark?” she asked in that her silky voice. The wind blew and I could see the naked meat of her developing breast. It was blinding.
“Nothing.” I replied. The looks on her face had me so confused.
“I want to tell you that………….” I paused, my voice trailed off.
“You wanted to tell me what?” “That I…………..watch out watch out.”
I pushed her and she fell down. A car hit me and I was flying in the skies. I had visions of myself walking majestically to heaven but St. Peters stopped me half way and asked me what I was doing in heaven. “I prayed while on Earth, I loved God, I believed in Him while on Earth, does it not qualify me to be in Heaven?”
“Your time is not up. If you want to come here you must have a stronger faith. Your time is not nigh.” Then he pushed me. I saw myself falling through the clouds.. I landed on my leg and I blacked out.
I woke up and I was on the hospital bed surrounded by my classmate. I felt fine, I moved my fingers, they hurt just a bit, I moved my left leg and it was fine, I couldn’t feel my right leg, it felt numb. I became agitated. The doctor opened the door and looked at me, “You are such a strong boy. If you were older you would not have survived.” I felt assured. I tried sitting down but he told me I needed sleep. They whisked away my classmates and I was left alone with my mother.
“Mummy I can’t feel my right leg.” She started crying, she hadn’t told me anything but whatever it was I knew it was bad. I run my hands on my right leg, it was there, all in bandages, and perhaps if they remove the bandages I was going to feel it.
“Mummy why are you crying?”
“Nothing, I am just happy that you are getting well.”
“Mummy, how long have I been here?”
“Two days.
The doctors say you will be fine.”
Instantly, Osoofo Maame entered and without greeting she started praying. My mother joined her in prayer and in their prayers they wished for a miracle for my right leg. I then knew why my mother was crying. Was I going to be a cripple? I shed a tear. I was never going to be a cripple. I had read stories from the Bible about God healing people, I knew I was going to get a miracle soon. If God could give Sarah a child, if Jesus could die and come back to life on the third day, if Jesus could rise Lazarus from the dead then the miracle I expected was small in His eyes. I had hope but later as I grew I just knew that when Dante wrote “Abandon all hopes he who enter” in Divine Comedy, he probably had me in mind.
I was discharged from the hospital and I had to learn how to walk in crutches with my right leg suspending in the air. I didn’t want to play with people again. I lost all desire to play. They added a cripple to my name. I understood them because that was what I was. It didn’t pain me that much for I knew it was temporal because I was waiting for a miracle.
There were times that I would light a fire, pick a sheet of paper and write on it ‘I love you Delphia’ and burn it. We were no longer friends. I understood it because she was growing, she was turning into a woman and I was rather settling into my new identity as Mark the Cripple. Despite everything I still waited for a miracle.
Then she grew into a beautiful flower with boys chasing her here and there. I would sit on our verandah and watch boys pass by her house. She would stand by her gate and talk to the boys smiling and flirting openly with them. At times she saw me and only waved at me. I will only stare at my phone and write a poem, “I love you, I will die for you, I love you, I will die for you, I love you.” After that I would discard it and rather go to my room and pray. God they said works in his own time and in my time He was going to heal me. Even after eleven years, my faith in Him did not wane, I knew the miracle was going to come and I was going to throw the crutches away. I was simply waiting for God’s time.
Then one day I was at my home when my mother brought me an invitation card, Delphia was getting married to the Minister’s popular son. My mother went on and on telling me about how they met and how a perfect man Delphia had found. After she was done, I went to my room and locked up the door, I prayed to God and told him that if by the time its morning and I was not healed, I was never going to believe in Him again. I would treat Him as a figment of my imagination. That night, I slept a painful sleep and I dreamt of myself walking again. In that dream, I was at the wedding and Delphia had run into my arms and begged me to marry her. I woke up sweating, my mother said I was screaming in my sleep, I was on her laps as she placed a cold napkin on my head. That morning I felt dejected, I was still a cripple in one leg. I took my Bible and burnt it. I didn’t want to have anything to do with God. I stopped going to church and my mother never understood why. Whenever she asked me why I couldn’t bear to tell her.
On the day of Delphia’s wedding, I took a white paper and I wrote on it, “Delphia I love you” folded it neatly and placed it in my pocket. That was the first time I saw her husband, he was handsome like how my mother had said it and he was also an engineer. I shed a tear, if I wasn’t a cripple, I wouldn’t have felt so inferior about myself so much that it affected my studies. I failed my exams not because I was not intelligent but because I felt a good university degree was wasted on me. If I wasn’t a cripple, I would have been handsome, I would have had more friends and importantly I would have told Delphia what I felt for her. She was happy and I couldn’t blame her. Osoofo Maame on that day did not stop talking about how God had been so good to her, she forgot about her devils and for once I was happy for the devil.
When the wedding was over, I left my note on the pulpit, it did not matter who saw it. It was wasted anyway. All the love I felt for her all gone wasted, all my faith in God all gone wasted. Nothing made sense for me anymore. I was never going to get a miracle. I missed how it felt to walk normal. I missed the part of my childhood where I played with Delphia, I missed everything that reminded me of being normal. As I walked away from the church to my house, I closed my eyes and remembered the day I had the accident. I remembered how I was standing by Delphia ready to tell her I loved her. I closed my eyes and whispered, “I love you.” I opened my eyes and my mother was standing in front of me, she responded, “I love you and I know you loved Delphia. I know you became a cripple just to save her. Unrequited love is the purest form of love.”
I grew up believing I serve an awesome God. I had a mental image of Him as one who never lets his children down. This is why as such I never dreamt of myself with my right leg suspended in the air as if it was one of the exceptions to gravity.
I grew up living next to a pastor, as such I visited his house each day to play with his eleven year old beautiful daughter. I was nine but what I felt towards Delphia was different. In my dreams, we walked on the streets of Kumasi making noise with our childish shoes that gave out lights when hit on a hard surface. Not that I was afraid to tell her, the thing is, her mother was fighting a personal war with the devil. Even when she fell down on her slippery tiles by accident she would pray loudly and rebuke the devil in Jesus’ name.
When the wind blew her hair damaging her exquisite hairstyle, she blamed it on the devil. Let even her forget her handkerchief at home and it will be the devil who will bear the brunt of it. Knowing her mom, I just knew she would say the devil is occupying the rooms in my mind if she should hear I proposed to her daughter. But you know what they say? They say the devil is a good businessman but as a child what I knew for sure was that the body knew what it wants and my body was no different. So day in and day out, I subjected my mind to how I could tell her I loved her without being too suggestive.
One day, we were going to buy a needle for Osoofo Maame because her cloth had been ruined by an innocent nail which was resting on the door thinking about itself. As usual, she opened her Bible to Titus 1:5 and cast out the poor devil that had troubled itself by inhabiting the nail. Often times I wondered how many devils she was fighting.
Everything happened so fast that even when I recall it looks like a movie. I remember we were almost near Auntie Monica’s shop and I held Delphia’s hands. I looked into her eyes and she asked me why I was looking at her strangely. Her lips looked like rose petals, I wanted to kiss her and show her what I felt. Then the image of her mother flashed my mind then I stopped. “Why are you looking at me like that Mark?” she asked in that her silky voice. The wind blew and I could see the naked meat of her developing breast. It was blinding.
“Nothing.” I replied. The looks on her face had me so confused.
“I want to tell you that………….” I paused, my voice trailed off.
“You wanted to tell me what?” “That I…………..watch out watch out.”
I pushed her and she fell down. A car hit me and I was flying in the skies. I had visions of myself walking majestically to heaven but St. Peters stopped me half way and asked me what I was doing in heaven. “I prayed while on Earth, I loved God, I believed in Him while on Earth, does it not qualify me to be in Heaven?”
“Your time is not up. If you want to come here you must have a stronger faith. Your time is not nigh.” Then he pushed me. I saw myself falling through the clouds.. I landed on my leg and I blacked out.
I woke up and I was on the hospital bed surrounded by my classmate. I felt fine, I moved my fingers, they hurt just a bit, I moved my left leg and it was fine, I couldn’t feel my right leg, it felt numb. I became agitated. The doctor opened the door and looked at me, “You are such a strong boy. If you were older you would not have survived.” I felt assured. I tried sitting down but he told me I needed sleep. They whisked away my classmates and I was left alone with my mother.
“Mummy I can’t feel my right leg.” She started crying, she hadn’t told me anything but whatever it was I knew it was bad. I run my hands on my right leg, it was there, all in bandages, and perhaps if they remove the bandages I was going to feel it.
“Mummy why are you crying?”
“Nothing, I am just happy that you are getting well.”
“Mummy, how long have I been here?”
“Two days.
The doctors say you will be fine.”
Instantly, Osoofo Maame entered and without greeting she started praying. My mother joined her in prayer and in their prayers they wished for a miracle for my right leg. I then knew why my mother was crying. Was I going to be a cripple? I shed a tear. I was never going to be a cripple. I had read stories from the Bible about God healing people, I knew I was going to get a miracle soon. If God could give Sarah a child, if Jesus could die and come back to life on the third day, if Jesus could rise Lazarus from the dead then the miracle I expected was small in His eyes. I had hope but later as I grew I just knew that when Dante wrote “Abandon all hopes he who enter” in Divine Comedy, he probably had me in mind.
I was discharged from the hospital and I had to learn how to walk in crutches with my right leg suspending in the air. I didn’t want to play with people again. I lost all desire to play. They added a cripple to my name. I understood them because that was what I was. It didn’t pain me that much for I knew it was temporal because I was waiting for a miracle.
There were times that I would light a fire, pick a sheet of paper and write on it ‘I love you Delphia’ and burn it. We were no longer friends. I understood it because she was growing, she was turning into a woman and I was rather settling into my new identity as Mark the Cripple. Despite everything I still waited for a miracle.
Then she grew into a beautiful flower with boys chasing her here and there. I would sit on our verandah and watch boys pass by her house. She would stand by her gate and talk to the boys smiling and flirting openly with them. At times she saw me and only waved at me. I will only stare at my phone and write a poem, “I love you, I will die for you, I love you, I will die for you, I love you.” After that I would discard it and rather go to my room and pray. God they said works in his own time and in my time He was going to heal me. Even after eleven years, my faith in Him did not wane, I knew the miracle was going to come and I was going to throw the crutches away. I was simply waiting for God’s time.
Then one day I was at my home when my mother brought me an invitation card, Delphia was getting married to the Minister’s popular son. My mother went on and on telling me about how they met and how a perfect man Delphia had found. After she was done, I went to my room and locked up the door, I prayed to God and told him that if by the time its morning and I was not healed, I was never going to believe in Him again. I would treat Him as a figment of my imagination. That night, I slept a painful sleep and I dreamt of myself walking again. In that dream, I was at the wedding and Delphia had run into my arms and begged me to marry her. I woke up sweating, my mother said I was screaming in my sleep, I was on her laps as she placed a cold napkin on my head. That morning I felt dejected, I was still a cripple in one leg. I took my Bible and burnt it. I didn’t want to have anything to do with God. I stopped going to church and my mother never understood why. Whenever she asked me why I couldn’t bear to tell her.
On the day of Delphia’s wedding, I took a white paper and I wrote on it, “Delphia I love you” folded it neatly and placed it in my pocket. That was the first time I saw her husband, he was handsome like how my mother had said it and he was also an engineer. I shed a tear, if I wasn’t a cripple, I wouldn’t have felt so inferior about myself so much that it affected my studies. I failed my exams not because I was not intelligent but because I felt a good university degree was wasted on me. If I wasn’t a cripple, I would have been handsome, I would have had more friends and importantly I would have told Delphia what I felt for her. She was happy and I couldn’t blame her. Osoofo Maame on that day did not stop talking about how God had been so good to her, she forgot about her devils and for once I was happy for the devil.
When the wedding was over, I left my note on the pulpit, it did not matter who saw it. It was wasted anyway. All the love I felt for her all gone wasted, all my faith in God all gone wasted. Nothing made sense for me anymore. I was never going to get a miracle. I missed how it felt to walk normal. I missed the part of my childhood where I played with Delphia, I missed everything that reminded me of being normal. As I walked away from the church to my house, I closed my eyes and remembered the day I had the accident. I remembered how I was standing by Delphia ready to tell her I loved her. I closed my eyes and whispered, “I love you.” I opened my eyes and my mother was standing in front of me, she responded, “I love you and I know you loved Delphia. I know you became a cripple just to save her. Unrequited love is the purest form of love.”
0 comments:
Post a Comment