I was only 9 years old when my mum passed away. After her death, my aunt took me in. She loved and cared for me with everything she had. But living in that house was not easy. My oldest cousin who also lived in the house cared very little about me. Most of her interactions with me were laced with cruelty. It was as if she had made it her life’s mission to make my life miserable.

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I was like her punching bag. She pounced on me at the slightest chance she got. If she was not beating me up, she was busily hurling hurtful words at me. One time she told me, “If you were my daughter I would have sacrificed you to a deity.” Such a painful thing to say to a child.

My aunt and her husband knew she was bullying me. However, they had busy schedules so they couldn’t physically stop her. The best they could do was warn her several times to stop maltreating me. She always pretended to listen and do as instructed in their presence. But the moment they turn their backs, she’d default to her wicked ways.

She made me miss my mother a lot. Sometimes I saw her in my dreams, my mum, shaking her head to say she was not happy. In the dreams, I always begged her to take me to wherever she was.

“Life is unbearable without you, mama. I can’t do it anymore.”

On days I woke up from these dreams, I was miserable the entire day. I would go about nursing a big ball of disappointment in my chest, frustrated that my mother did not take me away.

I never told anyone about my dreams. Not that it would make a difference to my cruel cousin. Even when her younger siblings tried to take my side, she yelled at them and used her authority as a firstborn to keep them quiet. The more she treated me badly, the more frequently the dreams occurred. Every time I prayed, I asked God to rescue me.

When I turned 12, my dad showed up to visit me for the first time. He asked if I was fine and I said yes. I wanted badly to tell him about my struggles but there was no privacy. We were in the presence of my aunt or cousins at every point of his stay there. I was afraid things would get worse for me after he leaves, if they heard me talking about it with me. So I kept it all to myself and continued to pray that God would make a way.

One sunny afternoon, I came back from school to find everyone at home in a melancholic mood. My aunt, especially, was weeping. Before I could ask, one of my cousins announced, “Grandma is dead, mama’s mother.”

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I was sad too. I didn’t remember her much but hearing that she was going to be with my mother while I was still suffering at my cousin’s hand. What I didn’t know was that my grandmother’s death was going to be the turning point of my life.

When we all attended the burial rites, I refused to return home with my aunt. I stayed in the village with a relative. That was the beginning of my good fortune. They took good care of me. I experienced a kind of love and happiness that I had never felt since my mum’s demise.

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I’m no longer a child as I share this story. I got a good job after I graduated from Delta State Polytechnic, Ozoro. I am 28 now. I have my own family. My husband, my daughter, and my son are my world of joy. I look at them and I feel joy bursting from my heart. Everything about my life now reminds me of what the Bible says in Isaiah 61:3, “To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes…”

I haven’t seen my mother in my dreams for many years. The last time she came to me, she didn’t shake her head in displeasure. This time she smiled at me and waved me goodbye. Maybe, now that she knows I am happy, she is finally resting in peace.

—Betty

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