May 3, 2021
“How a person consistently treats you is exactly the way they have made up their mind to treat you. Any word, or action, that belittles, demeans and humiliates is calculated to do exactly that. Don’t be fooled by ‘I didn’t mean it the way you took it’ — Paulina Iyang-Simon (my late grandmother)
Sometime after my uncle’s wife and I had made our peace — or rather, after she had made peace with me — she tried to tell me that she did not ‘wickedly’ mean her actions during my time under her roof. They were borne out of a ‘sincere’ desire to raise me to be a good girl so that I could have a bright future, she said.
If I remember correctly, Aunty tended her ‘apologies’ the same day I presented her with her dead sister’s baby gifts. I remember her leading with, ‘Nku nam’ ibak’ — I wasn’t wicked.’ And ending with, ‘I just wanted you to grow up to be a responsible girl.’
‘Don’t worry about it, Mma,’ I’d shushed gently at this point. ‘It is no longer important.’
‘What a bucketload of fermented cassava!’ my grandmother had exploded with her usual one-liner when I told her what Aunty said. ‘Don’t be fooled unless they are mad and roaming the streets naked; the way a person treats you is exactly how they have made up their mind to treat you. She said she wanted to make you better and responsible, ehn? Well, if so, why didn’t she visit the same treatment on her children? Why didn’t she call those children from her womb stupid and useless? Or did she not want them to grow up to be better and responsible? It is a good thing that you have forgiven her, ima-ima (beloved)but don’t be fooled. The way she treated you is exactly how she made up her mind to treat you from the very beginning. Don’t be fooled!’
It is not much of an apology if it is preceded by a ‘but.’
I never expected an apology from my uncle’s wife back then or now, to be honest. And as I said to her, it did not really matter why she abused and maltreated me because she abused and maltreated me anyway. Besides, it is not much of an apology if myriads excuses accompany it.
I must say, I was truly baffled by the so-called reasons Aunty gave for treating me so terribly. I could understand if she limited her abuse to spanking me now and then when I did wrong — in our culture, parents and guardians frequently disciplined the children in their care that way. But what possible good did she think slapping me across the face with a kitchen knife (with a cube of hot yam hook to it), cursing out my mother and father, spitting on me, calling me unprintable derogatory names — and watching her kids do the same without holding them accountable — was going to do for my future? That is the question I would have loved to ask her if I were inclined to give audience to her many excuses. But I wasn’t.
