My name is Chareeta Femoti. I come from the beautiful land
of Batoi located in a hinterland in Africa. A land full of luscious greenery
with undulated landscape moving up in spiral shapes also filled with clear
crystal rivers, brooks and streams gushing and rushing down the hills like
beautiful beads dotted around the very neck of the land. If my land was a
woman, she would win the hearts of the strongest of men who would be in awe of
her rhythmic moves.
Family life in Batoi consists mostly of an extended family
setting. I come from a family of four, made up of my father, mother, I and my
only brother, Takki. My grandma, uncles, aunties and cousins all make up for
the extended family at large. My father is an upright, loving and caring man
who made sure we were well provided for. Papi Nbogo, as we children fondly called
him was an international gold merchant in his hay days. He had interactions
with different people from different walks of life. This greatly influenced his
outlook and behaviour and that earned him the nickname Otamienmien a name that
means ‘Whiteman’s friend’ in my land. He also gained their love and respect.
My mother, Mami, was also a very good mother not just to her
children but to others as well. She would sometimes send me to the river to
fetch some water for the white-bearded Kogbesu – a lonely old man whose life
was becoming miserable. She was a gentle and considerate woman, who took time
to teach me and my brother how to live good lives. Mami was somewhat a
disciplinarian but she always allowed us to play and do things with our peers,
Mami would call it part of growing up! She played a big role in my life by
ensuring i continued my education in the United States when strong pressures
was on my Papi Nbogo to give me out in marriage early in life. Oh! I
particularly love Uncle Metubo – he knows how to gain my attention with that well-peppered
bush meat of his.
Now allow my bleeding heart to wander away from my old story.
The story I am about to share with you is the story of my best friend, the
Beautiful Arida, Oh! I forgot to mention her earlier – It was a deliberate omission. She made life in
Batoi a more memorable one!
The Beautiful One, as Arida was lovingly called by all. She
was popular yet very cool headed. A well behaved, respectful and very
industrious young person. Why so much praises of my friend huh? Well that’s Arida, every mother’s dream child.
When Arida lost her parents at the age of four, she was raised by her uncle,
Baba Sabe whose wife, Luiwe never really loved her for a day.
It was saddening that Arida, of all people could be given
out in marriage just like that, at such tender age of fourteen. I and other
young girls in our community withdrew to our shells knowing that such a fate
awaited us in the near future. Only God could predict who was next or who would
eventually escape.
Believe me; Arida had the kind of beauty we all craved for.
Her inner and outward beauty shined for all to see. She was a loving and
tender-hearted young woman, who had always been a role model to us. She was a good
example in the entire village of Batoi. Mothers would sometimes compare their
children to Arida as if she was out of this world. When she was given out in
marriage, her absence was not only felt but it also created a vacuum no one has
been able to fill. Her sudden departure from Batoi sparked off indiscriminate
giving off of young girls in marriage early in life.
So many of my friends towed the same path Arida trailed. Some
of which their stories are not worth telling at all without tears rolling down
one’s cheeks. Is it the cases of maternal deaths during child deliveries? Still
-births? Oh! My heart bleeds for these
unfortunate ones. Likewise, the ones who survived through child birth seemed to
be going through serious emotional problems, there have been cases of battery,
rape and confinements to mention but a few.
Though I had lots of friends in my growing up years Arida
still remains my closest friend. We played, sang, danced and also helped do
each other’s chores. In fact we were inseparable, we were seen together almost
everywhere.
Time flies as they say, I left Batoi in a rush as result of
Mami having first-hand information from Papi Nbogo that he was being pressured
to give me out early in marriage.
It was Mami who came
to my rescue when it looked like Papi Nbogo would eventually succumb to the
wish of his kinsman, she discreetly arranged with her eldest sister who came to
Batoi and eventually took me to the United States under the guise that I was to
attend her daughter’s wedding at my maternal village.
My return to Batoi years later was an official one, as I was
amongst the band of reconstructive surgeons sent to Africa and particularly the
Batoi region hence I was selected. As I entered the theatre with the other doctors
to start operating on the next patient I was shocked to my bone marrows! How
could I not remember that distinct birth mark the one I always admired on the
face of the beautiful one! How could this be happening! So many questions raced
through my mind all at once. It took a strong conscious effort on my part to
hide my inner turmoil in order not to be replaced by another surgeon. I
immediately made up mind that I wanted to be part of this re-constructive
process in giving my best friend back a new hope.
Her case was such a sensitive one in that she had had VVF
(Vesico Vaginal Fistula) for a long time which was as a result of obstructed
labour during child birth resulting from her early marriage. Also improper treatment and all the substance
she took affected her badly. Throughout the whole operation I prayed silently for
my dear friend.
The operation ended with a huge success although she still
underwent another surgery after a few months, her body was healed and her
dignity was restored amongst her people, but the psychological scar was just
too much for her to cope. She eventually became distant to people. I believe
the major healing needs to take place in her heart.
Arida suffered untold hardships at her husband’s house
especially from the hands of the senior wives. They made sure that she did most
of the household chores. They claimed that she is much younger than their own
children therefore she must do whatever chores she is given without
complaining, and that became the order of the day.
She went through hell as the youngest wife. Sex was an
exercise she always dreaded, for the pains she felt was beyond pleasure.
Arida’s husband Mankol who is a very huge man never cared how she felt though
he tried to be gentle but their physical body differences made it a tedious
affair for her. It took her a great while to adjust and accept this part of her
life. She always wished she had gone to school like I did and that if her
parents were alive they wouldn’t have allowed her wicked uncle and his wife to
give her out in marriage as a child without even completing school.
The beautiful one went on to tell me of how she was beaten
and confined so many times in her room by her husband as a result of false
accusations from her seniors and their children. This act contributed to her
several miscarriages and when she eventually sustained a pregnancy, she ended
up experiencing a prolonged labour during delivery since she did not have any
prior knowledge of what it meant for a pregnant woman to go into labour and
there was no one with her when it started. She had already fainted by the time
the eldest child Beti who usually sneaked in to keep her company came. It was
Beti’s scream that saved her life and that of her baby whom she named Komena
meaning My Own.
In fact the heavens smiled on her, but her joy was short
lived when after the delivery, she noticed that most people started avoiding
her. At first they were doing it discreetly but later they couldn’t hide it
anymore. All this was a result of the smell of urine and faeces that came out
indiscreetly from her body. At first she couldn’t understand what was happening
to her. It was at the point where her
loved ones deserted her even her own husband distanced himself from her that
the severity of her situation dawned on her that she was really on her own with
whatever the name of the disease that has come to plaque her. She cried to a
point that the tears ceased coming. The only person who stood by her throughout
these trying times was Beti.
Beti who eventually became a nurse was the one who found out
about the visiting band of re-constructive surgeons who treated cases like hers in other
countries in Africa. She made frantic efforts that put Arida on the list of
those to undergo surgery.
What made those years so unbearable was the fact that her
only child was taken away from her immediately her health issue defiled the
local medicines. She was left to die; her inability to fight back did a lot
psychological damage to her system.
The very fact that her Uncle Baba Sabe gave her out in
marriage as a payment for the debt he owed Mankol diminished whatever
self-worth she had left. Nguzak the second wife revealed this to her when she
came to mock her on her sick bed.
Apart from ensuring that Arida undergoes proper counselling,
a particular NGO took interest in her case and efforts are going on to make
sure her daughter Komena is found, because since her husband abandoned her he
left Batoi and his where about is not known. The child remains the key to her
total recovery, for the fear that Komena might pass through the same experience
is gradually driving her towards the brink of losing her sanity.
Ha! What a Life!
