Salma's Room

Salma couldn't believe it herself. This is the one thing she has always wanted, now she has it, at least she thinks she has it, and all it's ever done was make her miserable. To be fair, it has also made her happy at times. It makes her stand out. It opens doors for her. It even makes people love her, makes them want to be close to her. If only they knew how far away she, some times, wants to run from them all. If she only she didn't need them. That's a very scary thought, she realised she needed people, maybe even more than they needed her.

You see she had first heard of this thing - this gift - for it was indeed a gift, when she was a little girl. She couldn't have been more than five years old. She heard about a man who had this gift. She found out everything she could about him. The more she found out, the more she wanted this gift. She was fascinated by his life. People sought this man out from all the ends of the world just to experience this gift of his. He was very rich, Kings and queens adored him and bowed before him but none of this concerned her. Her main concern was how easy his life must have been. How easy this gift must have made his life. An easy life appealed to her.

Apparently, this man asked God for this gift and got it. Salma resolved to ask God for this gift too. So for as long as she could remember, she asked for this gift evey time as she prayed. Sometimes, she only prayed because she wanted to ask for this gift. Now she has it. At least she thinks she does. Why so miserable then? Why does it pull people to her and in equal measure push her so far away from them that she almost always feels lonely even in a room full of friends? What a paradox. It would be funny if it wasn't so tragic. Is her life tragic?

These were just some of the questions she was pondering when she was jolted back into reality by the sound of her phone vibrating on the glass coffee table within reaching distance of the couch she was lying on, in her living room. The nice living room, in the very nice apartment she lives in, thanks to her gift. She checked the phone and saw she had messages from Thierry. She remembered they were texting earlier, before she wondered off in her thoughts.

She had texted him to chat about the strange feelings she had, he helped her talk through it and she realised she was feeling lonely and sad. Even though they were thousand of miles apart now, she knew she could always count on Thierry to help her process her thoughts. He was so easy to talk to. They talked some more. Then he made a joke. It wasn't an insensitive joke. It wasn't offensive. It just wasn't the right joke.

She wished him good night and thanked him for listening. He must have sensed from from the abrupt end to the chat that she wasn't happy. He tried to make amends.

"Are you okay? Did I say something wrong? I feel like I offended you"

"I'm not okay. You didn't say anything wrong. You didn't say the right thing either but how would even know the right thing to say when you're not in my head. How could I ever expect anyone to understand and say the right things when even I don't understand?"

As she wrote those words she broke down and cried. She tried to stop but it was too late so she let herself go and cried like a baby. She cried until she felt better. She went to the bathroom and washed her face. As she washed her face, she thought about the realisation that just made her cry. It was the truth in a nutshell. How could she possibly expect anyone to really understand the things that go on in her head talk more of say the right things? She doesn't even understand it all herself.

It would be unfair. Really, really unfair to put all that pressure on anybody. Not even ones partner or ex-partner. She made this known to Thierry, wished him a good night and thanked him for listening. This time, she meant it. He said some more nice things to her and made her promise to text him tomorrow. Bless him. Bless him but this was her cross, she asked for it all those years ago and she resolved to carry it herself. Even on days and nights when she craved, so much, the same human touch she despised. On nights she just wanted to cuddle with someone but also instantly ruled out cuddling with pretty much everyone on earth.

Just One Reason.

I haven’t posted here in a while due to work and life commitments. I’m less busy now and naturally I’m doing a lot of thinking. Thinking about important things. Thinking about less important things. Mostly worrying, yet always dreaming. Where would I be without those? Umuahia, I suppose.

Some thoughts are recurring. Like Jehovah witness, they just won’t go away. I think we all have quite a few of those thoughts. They come when you least expect. You could, for example, go on a night out, do karaoke with careless abandon, have more than your fair share of wine then come home, shower, ready to sleep and BOOM you randomly start thinking. Sleep deserts you and next thing you know, you’re writing a blog post for the first time in almost a year, in the hope that others might help you figure things out.

I had a pretty great childhood. Nothing luxurious but I never really lacked any necessities. My parents sacrificed everything but their lives to make sure of this. If it ever came to it, I’m kinda sure they would sacrifice their lives for their kids. I’m forever in their debt.  I have mentioned the topic of this post tot hem a few times, I’m not quite sure they understood how serious I was. Time will tell.

I love kids. Their innocence, brutal honesty and ability to learn fascinate me. A few of my friends and associates have kids and I care for those kids as much, if not more than, I care for their parents, ** but, apparently, I don’t love kids enough to want to have one, talk more of two or more.

A few months ago, a friend informed me that a mutual friend of ours was pregnant and my 1st thought was “why?”. I didn’t say it out loud at the time but eventually, I did. After the usual expressions of happiness. The awkward and insensitive idiot that I am sometimes. I was genuinely happy for her. What I’m not sure about though is if I was happy that she was having a baby or just happy that a friend was getting something she had wanted for a long time. You know, in the way you’re happy when a friend gets their dream job or lands a huge business deal.

I genuinely can’t find a reason to have a kid. It’s not because kids are expensive, cry a lot for no reason, say and do whatever they like or poop everywhere. It is not because raising kids is a full-time job for at least 2 people or that the odds are stacked against African kids. None of those. All of those can be fixed with money, good parenting or simply with time. What I mean is that if I had a kid and that kid woke up one morning and asked me why I brought them to this world, I wouldn’t have a non-selfish answer for them. An answer that doesn’t involve an iota of my own happiness. An answer that is totally for the kid’s happiness. Not mine, nor the greater good or some similar bullshit. Think about it.

I have thought about this for a while now and I still don’t have that answer. I say “that” because I only need one. One is enough for me. As someone from a culture where having kids are, seemingly, valued more than most places in the world, I know that by writing and posting this, I may alienate some people, some people may even misunderstand it and hate me as a result. My hope is that most people will understand that this is a genuine concern and address it a s such. It would be even better if people who already have kids shared their knowledge with me.

If anyone else has this concern and wishes to express it, I hope I have provided a safe space for them to talk about it in the comments. Anonymously, if necessary.

**At this point while typing this, I remembered that a friend just had his second baby yesterday and that’s probably what brought this thought to the fore. If you read this, Cor, I hope you don’t think I’m an asshole trying to soil your good news. If you do think that, please forgive me.