Life became unbearable for Martha, to the extent that she felt like giving up.
Her parents were unyielding, unloving, and callous. With her father refusing to visit, her mum continually accused her of destabilizing her home, and setting discord in an otherwise happy marriage. She became bitter, to the point of resenting her daughter.
Martha wanted companionship, but no one was there to give to her. She wanted hope, but her future looked bleak. Anytime she sits and ruminate on her predicament, she would remember her father’s exact words- “You have used your hand to spoil your future, you will never amount to anything in life.”
She continually remembered, until the words became part and parcel of her, and she started living them.
Her talks, thoughts, dressing, and demeanor depicted utter hopelessness.
Whenever her mum would speak to her, it would be in mono syllables; pick that, take, drop it, get set, fine.
Martha wanted someone to hold her, and speak peace to her. She wanted a shoulder to lean on, and a balm to soothe her frayed nerves.
The symptoms of pregnancy did not make things easy. There were times she would vomit to the extent of almost passing out, and all her mother would say is, ‘use avomine, and take bitter cola’.
It got to a point that she felt her mum was wishing her to die, and she in turn wished her fetus would die and free her. Free her to live a normal life, free her to move on, free her to re-awaken hope, and free her to go back to the way she was; a vibrant, young and optimistic lady.
She wished to wake up, from the long sleep that she had been subjected to. She wanted to be in the choir, singing. She wanted to be in the congregation, not as a caricature in front of the church, and listen to the Pastor teach about life. She wanted to stand in front of the children, and take them on bible lessons. But no one would allow her sing in the choir, neither would she be allowed to teach in the Sunday school. She could neither mingle with the unmarried ladies, nor be allowed in the midst of the married.
Martha had become a tainted woman, a scarlet lady, that would live the rest of her life in regret, so her father said. Like Tamar, she would die in her father’s house as an old maid. He said she wouldn’t get a good man to marry her, because no sane man would marry someone with a bastard child.
She expected the church to delegate someone to counsel her. The Pastor tried, but the person delegated was so full of himself, teaching like the pharisees of those days would do. So Martha stopped seeing him. And he was too glad to be relieved of the duty.
Martha tried turning to the
Holy spirit for help, that was after she had blamed God for abandoning her to her predicament, and letting her enemies gloat over her. But her heart was closed to the gentle voice of the comforter, reassuring her that all will be well.
She developed resentment against God, her family, Jide, Kike, the church, and the whole world.
Deeply embittered, she stopped having her quiet time.
And then, she began wishing for death.
After the wish, came the actualization.
Solitude, a kn1fe, to cut across the wrist.
She left a note for her parents.
👉Our generation has a lot to contend with in terms of
🙏Spirituality and religion
🤝 Relationship among brethren
👉Posterity will not be kind to us if we fold our arms, and watch things remain the same.
👉We must strive to leave the world, better than we met it.
© Bosede Fagbemi