SEPUYA

EPISODE 4.
‘I see the pain, even with both eyelids tightly closed. Closing my eyes even seems to amplify the pain. As I make fettered attempts to walk in my mind, still with closed eyes, I hear clearly the troubled echoes of my struggling heart. I try to fathom, to understand it, but cleverly, it eludes me. And yet it’s raw and with gnawing fangs, rips the covering of my heart with renewed ferocity. Today is here, but the shadows of yesterday haunt me, leaving no room for re-apprehension.’

I closed my journal.

Not one cell in my body wanted to go to church today.

Church, they say, was created to provide solace to the weak. I had heard the book of Isaiah being quoted on ‘binding up the broken-hearted and restoring the breach of many generations.’ I didn’t believe a single word, nonetheless.

Miss Tara, a faithful church attendee left me with no choice and however reluctant I was, I had to go to church. It wasn’t even a debatable topic. What with the numerous gifting my myriad of church friends and family had consistently brought to my second home- the hospital, each time I had a crisis.

Over and over, prayers had been offered on my behalf. Miss Tara also routinely booked me for deliverance sessions, some of which were outrightly ridiculous.
Once, when I was 7, she had taken me to a white garment church on the outskirts of Lagos where the shepherd, having consulted with spiritual powers with the aid of 7 candles and a piece of white clothing, had instructed us to return in 7 days with 7 white fowls and more money. I was going to be bathed at a nearby flowing stream. I saw Miss Tara shudder, yet, I anticipated the adventure with much gusto.

I pictured the wide body of water, the beautiful fishes and focused my mind’s eye particularly on that blue dolphin I expected to see. Miss Tara’s concern was about my hemoglobin genotype. I couldn’t care less about hemoglobin. He wasn’t as fascinating as dolphins.

I barely slept the night before we returned. After rolling ceaselessly on my bed for 4 hours, I went to Miss Tara’s room and opened her door a little.

‘Sepuya?’

‘Miss Tara’ I said, as I climbed onto her bed.

‘I can’t sleep. Where is that rope you bought for me? I’ve already searched my room,’ I said, with a disturbed look on my face.

I continued. ‘I need to catch a dolphin at that stream tomorrow.’

‘Sepuya, that is a skipping rope!’ she said, clearly amused. I didn’t find it funny.

‘Miss Tara, I need to catch at least one fish, even if it isn’t a dolphin. Can I come along with Kimi and Tana? They would love to catch some fishes too…’

‘Sepuya, promise me you wouldn’t tell any of your friends about our trip.’

I didn’t understand, but grudgingly acquiesced when Miss Tara promised me some chocolate.

Looking back, I see that she didn’t want anyone who attended our church to know that she was seeking refuge elsewhere.

Anywhere, actually.

Bathing at the river banks didn’t unsickle my red blood cells. Neither did taking the herbal medications Mamia brought for me from the village. Nor did carrying the sacrifice Mamia secretly made me carry one night to appease the gods when I visited her in the village.

My red blood cells were irreversibly sickled. No one could do anything about it.

All we could do, was to accept it.

And accepting it was no joke.

I met a co-sickler at my last clinic visit; 17 year old Femi. We bonded almost immediately and we didn’t have to explain anything to each other. We were brothers in sickness. We even laughed at our co-tribulations.

He asked if I liked anyone.

I told him about Kale.

He asked if I knew her hemoglobin genotype.

I stuttered just like Miss Tara had when asked about Papa’s genotype.
But our reasons for stuttering were very different.

While she had been truly ignorant, I only wanted to feign ignorance of the battle I fought daily with sickle cell disease; pushing forward the inevitable.

Today, however, all I really wanted was to stay indoors.

Not to go to church!