The year is 1994….It’s a dull day, sky’s overcast, chilly dreary, there is a slight chill in the air, strange because today the weather was predicted as sunny with clear skies. We are standing at the mouth of the open grave, me, my 3siblings and my parents. There is a pained silence, each of us in various stages of mourning. I stare at the wooden casket, unsure of my emotions, relief, sorrow… I am constantly oscillating between grief and an uncontrollable urge to scream at life…in my head I laugh, at the irony of it all.
My uncle to the priest, the respected leader, tall and regal as he was, now lays lifeless, his once smooth skin wrinkled by the plethora of formaldehyde and associated chemicals used to embalm and preserve.
In the background I can hear the choir sing, his funeral a mix of tradition whilst conforming with christian practices, the duplicity of it, reminds me again of my inner turmoil, my lips curve is an ever do slight sarcastic smile. I can feel my mother’s eyes from across the other side of the yawning grave, she eyes me suspiciously and I can feel her unease, but the says nothing, the sound of the choir drowns on..e are waiting for the priest to perform the last right.
The priest to perform his last right… funny isn’t it, under any other circumstances that priest performing the last rights would be my uncle. The rest of the ceremony is a blur and so are the days after…the rituals, the many comings and goings…adjusting. Many years later and am sitting here staring at this script in my hand, I am wondering what has compelled me to this point. To share a secret so deep and dark, I have kept it in hidden for decades. I wonder, at the possibility of repercussions.
I think briefly of my parents, siblings, their thoughts, I am almost tempted to burn it, but a strange courage has risen within, a need to heal, to flee from these demons plaguing me every day. I struggle with sleep, constant headaches, self esteem and the church…. aaaah the church! I am the first amongst 5 siblings, 2 long since dead. I am my mother’s pride and joy, I imagine the light in my father’s eye every time he speaks of me and what I have accomplished, I wonder if the light will slowly diminish, will it still burn as bright once the script is published? How will it be with my siblings?
My father was a fisherman, exceptionally good at his craft and together with my mothers charm and skill they were able to make a successful business out of fish monging, raised five children and my life did not lack. I was well educated and always in awe of just how beautiful and hard working my mother was… sons of course are skewed in the view of their mother, but that hasn’t changed, my mother beauty and charm still radiate with the glory of youth. She has maintained a slim figure and though not an active fish monger still dabbles in business. Enough for her and my dad not to need out support.
My dad had one brother, the renowned priest, with whom whose death, began the journey of revelation.
Let me take you back to my childhood. A time of beautiful innocence and time spent around the family campfire telling stories, chuckling at very stale jokes told by uncle and wonderful stories read from an ever growing variety of books. My uncle being a Catholic priest and one of high ranking meant we had access to a breadth of knowledge. The Catholic church it’s well known fro its investment in education and health and we were exposed to these advantages from a young age.
We loved to hear our uncle read, he had a melodic almost bewitching voice. Once he started reading or on the pulpit during the sermon, people hang on to his words,being ever so careful not to miss even a morsel of the delectable stories he told and oooh how captivating he was..I was smitten, he was a hero in my eyes. I wanted to be just like him…not a priest, nooo, the rigour of the church were not to my naughty liking, but the way he captivated people, he always appeared intelligent, commanded respect wherever he went…yeah I wanted to be just like that and the fact the he paid such attention to me, went out of his way to spend time with me, helped to nurture my curios mind….. yes I was basking in the glory of blissful childhood, happily enjoying the blessings that had been bestowed upon me. I was lucky you see, we may not have been rich, but we couldn’t have grown up in a better environment.
But my bliss was to be short-lived..alot would change when I turned 12, a lot I wished didn’t. This prison that had caged me for eight years, unable to break free, trapped in a place with no walls yet unable to break free. A prison created by my role model, my idol, my beloved uncle. The joy of childhood diminished replaced by darkness and raging storms and worst of all a crippling silence. Damp and sickening, constantly hovering…
One summer, my uncle went on missionary work, for two weeks, everyone missed his presence as he is a good preacher/teacher and also a father to everyone. He came back one Thursday evening after two weeks straight to our house. With so much joy, we were all happy and joyfully welcomed him home. He is family obviously. Bought so many things as usual with mine being much and better. I can’t forget, that was actually my first time of hugging him. He was like a father to me.
On Friday of the same week, My parents decided to visit my mom’s sick mother who is also my own maternal grandmother. We are safe with my uncle to care for us as he has always been doing. So, my parent’s room was given to him to stay in. Late around 8 pm, Friday, he read us some bible stories and my younger siblings fell asleep. They were tucked in, and I asked for more stories, he asked me to join him in my parent’s bedroom. Innocent me, wanted more stories, and he also said he feels tired and he will be more comfortable reading while he is close to the bed.
He continues with the stories of Jesus and the children and the children are the purest in the kingdom. He made a statement that is yet to leave my head till now. He said, “Do you know you are so pure, but I can make you the purest of all”. Without excitation, I wanted to be the purest. He went to lock the door and said he does not want any disturbance for the period. My thought was, he was going to teach me how to be the purest, but……..
