I have always been too practical to be religious. I tried everything believe me. It just refused to make sense to me. The way I would interpret teachings often made my mother want to scream. Like the numerous teachings on forgiveness for example. I summarised them as follows.
If someone put your hand over a fire because they do not like you or worse still, they do not know what they are doing (I really do not believe people do not know what they are doing when they are harming you), why would you just stand there and hope for the best? Wouldnt you snatch your hand away?
And if you had strength left, slapped the buffoon holding your hand over the fire? Then you would get some water and put off the fire. Take the container you used to carry the water and throw it at your tormentor. If possible report the matter to the relevant authorities or yell a few choice words.
That is how life works. You would not just shuffle away crying when they decide you have burnt enough asking whoever to punish them when they are ready to. Even the one burning you would surely laugh yawa.
If there is one thing African women like, it is religion. It numbs us from reality, especially if we are married. Oh, how we love dysfunctional marriages where we wait for God to come and tell our husbands to love us and stop mistreating us. And there is always a gospel soundtrack to the misery about a woman kicked out of her home while she wails at the sky. (That type of music sells like crazy, I guess you know why)
Then our husbands' hearts will suddenly change and we will forgive them for all the wrong they have done to us. And God will bring back our youth and health and we will spend 1,000 years in love before we go to heaven and become brother and sister singing for eternity while we drink milk and honey and sleep on cold gold floors.
I cannot tell you how many times I have wanted to bang my head on a table while I read a story of a woman narrating how she suffered in her marriage but she held on asking God to forgive her tormentor.
Or how many times I tried not to stick my fingers in my eyes while an unfortunate woman narrated how her in-laws made her fetch water and would not give her food. Ati the only time she ate good food was when her mother sent her some. Yani your parents are even alive! And you are in someone's homestead gathering content for a woiye story?
As I have always said, there is no trophy for being a good woman. There is also no trophy for a suffering one. In our society, a good woman is one who suffers, especially for marriage.
There is also no recovery of things passed. Once time is gone, it is gone. Once your youth is faded, that is it. Worst of all, it is impossible to completely heal childhood traumas. So think about that next time you are waiting on saving instead of standing up and moving your hand away from the fire.
I know how good the fantasy of being saved from the clutches of suffering sounds, but sadly the world does not run like that. I wish we knew how traumatising it is for children to watch their mothers (these days, fathers too) suffer maybe then we would take matters into our own hands.
Let us be practical with our lives. Sure we may not be able to control everything that happens to us. Am I saying practicality is easy? No. But no one should beat you black and blue. Nobody should decide to enslave you in his home.
You should not be punished for giving birth to girls or boys or not at all. No one should belittle you or your ideas. You deserve a chance at manageable living. No one should put you in harm's way. Guess what? It is up to you! You decide. You are the saviour you have been waiting for.
Yes God is good, He is even great. But if He was one of us, I am sure he would be practical.
