I'm tired of worrying, and I mean this in every sense of the word. Before I continue this story, let me ask you, dear reader; Does the law of karma still exist? Okay, that's cliché. I know it exists, but does it bear grudges? Well, save the answer to yourself, for now, It will make sense later.
It's me, Koko. Remember me? It's been 25 years and a lot has happened. Not in a bad way though, my life has been a walk in the park and God has been good. I mean who would have thought, the little smart and outspoken Koko is today, a renowned family lawyer and realtor in Dubai. I know right? Life has been quite fair. To an extent.
After the early days of primary school in Abagana, Anambra state just before I wrote the common entrance examination; my mother passed away, and my father became depressed and starting dealing drugs. In other to protect my mental health and wellbeing, Aunty Chikito took me and Dapo, my younger brother with her to Benin. She was so loving to us and sponsored my education up to my university level. Then, from the little cash I made with her support, I took relocated to Dubai for my masters and the rest has been history.
From dating fine oyibo men to spending drunk weekends at nightclubs on the streets of AlBarsha, laughing and wilding to keeping a straight face when job hunting on Monday mornings.
It was a routine and I could predict everything that happened until I woke up one morning to continue job hunting, and I figured I had a nipple discharge.
My nighties were tinted soaked up, I was having a panic attack, so I called my friend Nini to rant.
“It's just hormone imbalance, Koko. It happens to the best of us. It's not that serious”
“Nini it has not happened before. Are you certain?”
“This girl, sef. So, na why you call me?” She said with a hint of laughter.
“Nini I'm not joking. This thing soaked my nighties. How am I not suppose to think that it's something worse” I said almost immediately, was I a joke to her or what? This girl sha.
“I've seen these things na. My sister has experienced this and do you remember that girl, that usually sits behind in college that wears glasses. You know she was my friend abi?” Nini asked and I hesitated.
“Yes?”
“Hers happened for days and when she reported to her doctor; It was simply the same hormonal imbalance due to the plenty postinor she don put for belle. So calm down!” she said.
I bit my lips as I terminated the call, not sure of what next. But after giving it a second thought, I let it slide since it was not just me.
Na so clap take enter dance.
From the nipple discharges to waking up to hard and swollen breasts. I could not bathe properly and putting on clothes became uncomfortable. I had to spend days at home naked and under the fan. Finally, Nini’s husband brought his car and I was rushed to the hospital to meet a Gynecologist when my breasts became hot to touch. You know, that kind of temperature when one is down with a fever? Exactly. They were flaming hot.
“I don't understand,” I said during my 5th appointment when Dr. Elle when she said those strange words. For the first time in a while, I heard but did not listen. Sitting across the large office table with Nini beside me, who reached out for my hands and wept with me when I was diagnosed with Inflammatory breast cancer.
Emi? Kolapo Ajejemi? Omo Bamidele Ajejemi? (child of Bamidele Ajejemi?)
It was too bad to be true.
“Ha! Modaro! I'm finished. Nini, how can I have breast cancer? And this one is just from the blues oh, was it not just last two months I complained of nipple discharge? What was that you said again? Hormonal imbalance abi? It was meant to be just that, nau. I don't even know what caused this one! Now I'm finally settling and enjoying life small in this Dubai, this one came with its juju! Are you convinced that doctor is right sef? Because she looks like a novice. Maybe we should try another biopsy process or mammogram. That hospital is wack abeg!”
Nini came to sit beside me on the floor of my sitting room and wiped the tears I didn't know were dropping with paper towels.
“I'm not sure what to say, but I want you to know I care”, She said and hugged me so tight and at that moment, I knew my life was never going to remain the same.
Long and depressing chemotherapy sessions. Sleepless nights. Suicidal thoughts. Found it hard to laugh. Could not eat. Days I would spend the day vomiting and passing out from chemotherapy reactions.
Every moment of my life was not worth living.
It's been 7 years since I had a mastectomy and my whole breast was removed. The breast cancer had migrated from benign to the malignant stage. I was 29 then, and that was the darkest moment of my life. I am 36 now, healthy and strong. You would call me a survivor and all the likes, thanks for your praises, but that's not the point I'm about to make.
Nobody tried to understand. Due to the chemotherapy stress and all I had to pass through for the past seven years, I shed a lot of weight and never managed to gain it back. No matter the number of burgers or Dunken doughnuts I had changed anything. Not too talked of the weight gain supplements island money on, including those that made me shed skin.
This coupled with my flat chest, made everyone see me as “Oh she's suffering and dying”. Everywhere I went, someone had a piece of unsolicited advice to render, and I was being told how to live. Not to talk of the laughter and social media memes?
I'm what they call a “public figure” due to my baby geh lifestyle on Instagram. So seeing me on the streets and taking pictures would make one trend. I had to delete my Instagram to have another private account with no trace of me. I want to avoid going deeper, except you want to see me tear up.
When it hit hard was when Nini and her family relocated to the United Kingdom. I was alone and had no one to rant and cry to; I mean, you cannot compare phone calls to the physical. Can you? She came around a few times and we would spend days Netflix and chilling, ordering postmates and playing dress-up.
But it was just for that moment. And whenever she packed her suitcase to leave, I was back to defaults. This made me stop work and anything outgoing. I put my law career to a pause and I managed my Real Estate company from home. The only time I stepped out was when I had to see my doctor. Every other thing else was handled by my assistant.
One evening after I had a home service massage, I was sipping red wine scrolling through Instagram when I caught a familiar face on explore. She looked so happy as she danced to the camera while displaying her products for sale. I guess it was a lingerie brand for plus-size women or something. I took a quick mental note of the username and scrolled past.
When I got up by 5 am for my online meditation session the next day, I couldn't get the Instagram saleswoman off my mind. So I had to look her up again.
I knew I was right.
Munachi. Angela. Odimegwu or Mrs Williams as her bio said.
It was Muna I knew from 1996, the Mama JSS1 Muna. I could forget anything, but not the faint scar that ran from below her left eye to the tip of her nose.
I went back and watched her video again. Noticing every salient sign and body language; she was so confident and happy, something I've lacked and wanted for years. And her chest did not stop growing, omg she was bigger! And very happy. Oh my God...
Then the awful thoughts of all the things I said and did to her years back came appearing hitting like flashes of pictures before my eyes.
“Muna I heard you do not fit into your singlets anymore! Eeeyahhhh”
“You should try starving yourself. Maybe you would look better”
“Aww, she's really crying. How cute!”
“I hope big mummy stopped getting bras for you because over time they don't fit anymore”
“Can I have your lunch? It's obvious you don't enjoy them”
Plus every other horrible thing I said to her. Eventually, she left our school when her big mummy came visiting the head of staff. She was asked to call out the names of those who mocked and insulted her. But she said nothing.
Her only and last words were
“It's not them, I just feel I don't belong here,” she said and just before she picked up her school bag, she gave me a glance that was strange but understood.
Seeing her then on Instagram, I became sorry, truly sorry and disappointed for all I did and said to her.
I felt sorry for myself too because what Muna had managed to overcome in childhood, I was going to live with for the rest of my life.
“Hey, it's Koko. Can we talk?”
I found myself trying to breathe when I hit that send button.
So I ask you again, Doesn’t Karma forget?
.
Nice absolutely nice, I love this😍
ReplyDeleteThank you sis❤️
DeleteInteresting...my first time here and I can say you are amazing 🥵...and about the story I can say it's karma because she wasn't even remoursed at anytime in her life according to the story tho until she saw her video so with this I can say karma definitely came for her ...
ReplyDeleteNice point you have there.
DeleteThank you for reading❤️
Brilliant!!❤ love it girl. Keep going!
ReplyDeleteThanks love😊
DeleteI would say life and karma happened, when she was body shaming Muna she wasnt able to understand that what she was doing to her was really hurting her in many ways. The reason I said Karma happened is because she was dealt almost the same experience she mocked Muna for but now in the receiving end and why I also think that lifr happened at the same time is because nobody wants such rotten experience in their lives but sometimes life deals with us in ways we may not begin to understand.
ReplyDeleteTherefore this story is a moral lesson to people, be careful how you treat other people with unique conditions out there because you dont know what life still has in store for you
Wow this is one long caption and I appreciate you taking out the time to write it. It means you absorbed the story in every form, Thank 💕 I agree with your point of view because I believe that the law of Karma still exists. Life is more spiritual than we think and whatever goes around comes around.
DeleteI wrote a very long comment but I would like to k ow what you think about my suggestion Vanessa
ReplyDelete