My Tale Of Many Colours - Episode 1

 

EPISODE 1

Yes, you don’t know me. I’m a stranger to everyone, including myself. Just call me Mr. A, or Mr. Z if you please. The truth is that, what you call me matter less. Just listen, please listen to my tale of many colours. I know you think the rainbow is colourful, with its seven colours, or may be eight (I know not!), but I can bet you, I am more colourful. My colours are not in shades nor shadows, My colours are in hues . I am a man of many colours. Some colours will sadden you, not the kind of sadness that makes the eye teary, but the one that steals the waters in the eye, and make it wish it had some waters to shed. Some will make you laugh, that kind of laughter that makes you wish you were in my shoes. Is my story a tragedy, or a comedy? I leave that to you to decide.

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COLOUR BLACK

It all began on the 15th of August, 1990, or maybe 1992. I didn’t get to see my birth certificate, so I’m not sure which is correct. In the hollows of my mother’s womb, I could hear the faint voices of some humans, Whether they were called ‘ducks’ or ‘docs’, I know not.

“Push, Mrs B., push”, they urged my mother whose breath was gradually fainting. As she pushed, I whispered “no, no way, there’s absolutely no way I’m leaving the confines of my nine-month residence”, or was it ten month? Well, She pushed, and I resisted

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. I turned and whirled in her womb like a raging storm in the sea. I fought against the tide, or was it the tide that fought against me?

“Mrs. B., you can do it, Just a little more…PUSH” ,  those men urged mama.

Papa, in her baritone Yoruba voice said to my mum “Ayanfe, the horse never rejects the race to home”

Oh! Why was Papa even allowed in that room in the first place? As Mama heard his encouragement, adrenaline rushed through her veins, and with every single drop of breath in her, she gave a loud, deafening scream, which sent me rushing out.  I knew that was it. I was condemned without a fault, they didn’t ask me if I wanted to come to the world or not. They just decided my fate! What a world.

I looked at their faces, I think they expected me to cry. They were waiting for my tears. But no, I am not that weak. I won’t shed a tear, no, not one!

For three minutes, or ten, they waited, and I just watched. Then, just in about three or ten minutes into where was supposed to be my abode, I felt the wickedness of a dark, black world! A man ironically clothed in a white overall coat, lifted me and suddenly, a slap landed on my bare, unsuspecting buttocks. I screamed, and they laughed. My tears made them happy. What a world, a black world!

“Congrats, Mrs B., you now have a bouncing baby boy”, The blackish, white-clothed man told Mama. As soon as Papa heard those words, as if he was waiting for the confirmation of what he had already seen with his own eyes, he exclaimed foe joy. He looked at me and said:

“Boy, you are going to be a banker!”

I wept.

“What? How? Why?”, questions upon questions filled my heart. No one asked me what I wanted to be. No one asked me if I even wanted to be here! No one asked my opinion, they just decided.

Silently within me, I planned on what to do!

After seven days, they called a party. They called it a naming ceremony. They were going to give me a name. It was going to be MY name, not THEIRS, but they never asked me what name I would love to bear.

“The name of this child is going to be…”, I shut my ears, I didn’t hear that label they were about to give me. They have done their worst, but I also have my plans. It’s action time!!!

As I laid in my baby-prison (I don’t care what they call it, it’s a prison to me), I ruminated and strategized on my plan, Yes, it must meet them in shock. They should not expect it. They thought my mind was a Plain Slate, but they are wrong! I was a slate of many colours. They asked for colour black, and they are going to get just that. I am not a fool!

Days past, and I daily edited my plans. There must be no room for mistakes. This must be perfect. Every hook, line and sinker, must hit the right target. But…

Mama carries me all day, she holds me close to her soft bosom as I suck from her sweetness. Oh, such love,  such care, such attention. Mama will refuse to sleep if I didn’t sleep, even after sleeping she pecks me, and like a shepherd, watches over me. I once heard her sing one of those songs, while I was pretending to sleep:

“Who sat and watched my infant head

While sleeping on my cradle bed

And tears of sweet affection shed?

MY MOTHER”

And I wept.

May be it was the softness of her tone, may be it was the lyrics of the song, may be it was the sincerity and love with which she sang, I don’t know. My hands subconsciously reached out to her. She took those tiny fingers, and kissed them.

My heart melted!

I began to be confused. Are these not the people who changed my residence, named me, and stamped my future without my knowledge? How can they treat me with so much love? Are they not the same people who laughed at my tears when I first came to the world? Have I been presumptuous in labeling them “Black”? My heart wondered.

“No, they must be trying to trick me”, I said to myself

But the love I feel is too real to be untrue. Do they love me indeed? Or do they not?. And for the first time since I changed residence, I was in a dilemma. A black dilemma.

Will I fulfill my plan or will I suspend it? My heart seems unable to answer. A mother’s love, they say, can melt the heart of stone.

I looked into her eyes, and tears rushed from my eyes. I will abort my plan, I said, I won’t commit suicide. I cannot hurt someone who has shown me so love.

But, little did I know that not all humans are like my mother. I was in for a big surprise.

Watch out for the next episode!!