“Ignorance is a nasty thief! It has eminently robbed the world- of the bests of its most precious jewels. Worse that it has not a single use for what he daily steals. He steals them and flush them down a neglected drain somewhere. Sad to announce that- Love, Peace, Tolerance and Common-Sense are amongst his most common, wasted loot”.- Odolaye Aremu, to his Children.
…Rafatu, or Rafa (as she was fondly called), was big for her age. In contrast I was quite small for mine standing next to her, though we belonged in the same age group. She’s the most exuberant girl I knew in those days. Tall, quite angelic, quick to smile and equally quick to be offended. She had eyes as bright as those of a beautiful Doe. She was gangling for some peculiar reasons which were a bit too steep for my comprehension at such a tender age. Though she was ambulatory but it was still noticeable that she couldn’t walk as steadily as I, or my friend Saka Oni could. And If she couldn’t walk steadily, it’s reasonable to conclude that she wouldn’t be able to pick up speed or run as easily either.
Her physical features were quite different. Her face was joyously shaped like the Moon- and her smile was poetically Sunny. A protruding upper gum gave her face an inner beauty most vain people would easily miss. It’s for those ones to see ugliness where extemporaneous fairness resides. When she’s out of grace, she wept- and her tears came down hard like the West African Monsoon. Where I, and Saka were blessed with the gift of speech and outward cognition- she was non-verbal, and we couldn’t get out the inborn logics or the congenital reasonings seemingly trapped within her consciousness. Something was surely there, but we just couldn’t tap into the mass of it. She however made better sense with her Doe eyes- which she tentatively “communicated” with. For all her physical, neurological or mental challenges, it never for once occurred to me that- she could be much more self-aware in a world- where rooted definitions, adjectives and patterns are all relative; a world where being smart in one realm could mean being naturally obtuse in another. A world where the only two constant currencies of note are Kindness and Meanness. Even in her most profound impairments, under the perpetual clutch of her inherent physical challenges- Rafatu could still somehow feel Love, Empathy, acts of kindness and the random acts of wickedness directed towards her- especially when no one seemed to be paying attention.
Such a shame that she couldn’t go to school with me and my friends. After all what’s the point? What could she ever learn? She otherwise stood tethered to Iya Rafa, her mom amidst columns of bleached yellow porticoes on the huge verandah of the elaborate Akande estate- where she lived with her mom and an older sister on my block at the time. She cried like she would expire- each morning, while deceptively regaled in her school uniform, which she only wore for the show. As she wouldn’t be allowed to step within the grounds of a school premises or ever see the insides of a classroom anyway. But it was consoling and great to see how quick the Sun warmed itself back onto her face, and her joy returned at each sundown, everyday as we all returned from school. In Rafa’s pure mind- she’s part of the pack of kids raising clusters of dusty clouds on our way home from school to our respective mums.
We would on other days find her rooted to the same spot, but ‘tied’ to her mother’s side as the tenacious woman diligently worked on the hair of one of her many customers. Rafatu did her best to try run towards us, if only to gleefully share in the glory of another day she was absent from school, with the rest of us kids. It was another day she was denied the joy of fraternity- a wonderfully anointed camaraderie, with her young peers. Another day a worried mom, worn-out, overprotective, entirely void of the typical shame- of claiming a drooling, “liability” of-a-child must essentially keep her within her line of sight, so she wouldn’t fall like she does every-time. In truth, Rafa was indeed clumsy, and needless to say-quite accident-prone. It was another day some mothers in the neighborhood- who obviously didn’t know any better warned their kids from hanging around Rafatu. Another day some of us idiotic kids would pick on her, get close enough to taunt her and then run as fast as we could- hoping she would give chase- understanding her legs weren’t built for such endurance or for speed. I did my share of that too, and regrettably so. I swear I wasn’t a juvenile Saint those many years ago.
If time permits, and perchance I ever venture into Rafatu again, I would do all within my allowance to appease her innocent soul. Ask for her permission if I could sit under the harmless ember of her sunny gaze. I would mindlessly interlock my fingers within her’s. By God, I wouldn’t mind the copious torrents of her drooling shower to fall on, or sprinkle me silly. I would ask for a round of dance with her- if it’s only a slim payback for the inclusive Prom dance she “conveniently” missed many years ago. I would gladly offer my lackluster, ‘rhythm-less’ feet and do the spinning Waltz or the weird ‘Shoki’ or the incoherent ‘Skelewu’ with her.
It’s a travesty for kids to grow up embroiled in relative ignorance- with the duo of religious manipulations and native superstitions, as two of their most powerful guides. I could’ve sworn that Ambaliu’s- (the kid around the block from me those days) frothy spittles- during his chronic bouts of epilepsy was a contagious bodily fluid- “once you touch it, or it touches any part of you, you are blessed with incurable “Warapa”, they sternly warned us.
I found out late in my life that I was robbed of wonderful moments with the most “Special People” of these world, just as they were ultimately robbed of my own precocious company- in a two way intellectual-robbery, exclusively masterminded by: Ignorance!
***many, many years after, Rafatu in her puberty was impregnated twice- by unknown person(s). She’s probably a “settled” grandmother by now.***
+++Piece dedicated to Sherifat “Sherry” Adewunmi Temitope Temitayo Alade, the beautiful daughter of Shakirudeen Adewale Alade, a wonderful man and a loving father. Thank you for allowing Rafatu and Sherry and Myself share a wonderful camaraderie in this evocative piece. And also to all those wonderfully made Special-Persons out there, their diligent parents, their understanding siblings, patient caregivers and lovely volunteer workers.+++
