I LOVE MY RAGS written by Onnasucs1
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"...not every deranged person out there was attacked with insanity by the so-called "village people", most of them are on rags due to depression and psychological issues. That's why here at Heal the Nation Foundation, we restore sanity to the psychologically challenged people, but really we change the world by helping challenged people get a chance to view the world differently.

I want to emphasize the “we” here. This company would be nothing without your work.

Have you guys ever thought about that? How what you do changes the world by helping psychologically challenged people live up to their inspiring visions?

Standing on your feet all day under the hazardous sun in this city, instead of sitting at your desks in our warm, comfortably cozy and friendly office, isn't anybody's idea of fun.

The launch of. "TAKE THE RAGS OFF THEM" programme last month has been a huge success and the success has been achieved by the men and women sitting right before me here. I know every single person here played a role in giving shape to this wonderful idea, and you should all be proud.
Please pat yourselves on the back! You are excellent examples of hardworking and dedicated change champions! For that, and many other unmentioned contributions that might well take all day to name, I can't thank you enough!



Thank you for joining me on the mission to restore sanity to the psychologically challenged people. With any other team, all we’re trying to do might just not be possible, but you all make me realize we can do anything together.

Thank you" concluded the well suited man who was encircled by a group of young men and women. I switched the television set off as soon as he concluded. I thought I would gain solace in watching a movie after the severe beating I received from my step mother. But I stumbled on that programme which I understood nothing about. I resolved to my thoughts once again.



The world seemed to have ended for me, I couldn't contain myself in me. I could feel me bleeding on my inside. I wanted to cry, but no. Haven't I cried enough? Should I be silent at this moment? Should I try to fix my mind on something else, as if it's well? Kathryn, you know too well that your world is crashing faster than a mountain that was hit by a dynamite. As these words rushed in and out of my thoughts, I felt those cold liquid rushing through the corner of my eyes. As my left hand was swiftly navigating to my eyes to dry up the tears, my eyes sighted a pen and a note. As soon as my left hand was done with its habit of always mopping the floor below my eyes, I stretched it forth to take the pen and note and I wrote thus.

"The sunrise of my morning, the glittering star of my twilight, the rainfall of my night, if you had told me you wanted a smile, I would have displayed the full set of my teeth for you, if you had told me you needed a pat on your shoulder, I would have given you a full massage, if you had told me you needed a night or even a day rest from the troubles of life, I would have given you a whole month to repose.

Now you've left this dark-skinned, slim, introverted creature called your daughter in this lonely world, you left her to cater for herself" I paused writing my supposed poem that has turned into a letter and I wiped out a handful of tears taking a nap on my face, then I continued.

You want to know more? I think here is big news. Yeah, your daughter is now a big girl, she is now 18 and damn, she looks 30. She's now bald, because the hard brownish thing she inherited from you called hair can't be catered for again.

My world is now resident in my mind, my mouth is now resident in the hands of the wicked creature called my fathers wife. You know what? You made a mistake the day you bade this world farewell. You know what..."



"Kathryn, Kathryn!" I heard my step mum called on me with so much wrath. I quickly placed my note and pen under my bed and lay down quietly on my bed, trying to bear the pains and wounds I sustained from the intense beating I had received from her about twenty minutes ago. She called aggressively two more times and then I heard her footsteps as she approached my room as expected. I still laid on my belly.

I felt a sharp pain on my wounded back.

"Did she just hit me again?" I asked in my mind, still laying on my belly unshaken. But my tears betrayed me, it rushed down without control. Betrayal? No I don't think so because she didn't see it. I heard the sound of whatever she used to wipe me as it dropped to the ground. She held me, raised me up and I sensed a huge sigh of relief in her as she discovered that I was still breathing. She let me out of her hands, threw a paper at me with a few naira notes.

"Go get me those things on that list from the market, I need to cook" she said hastily and walked away. She stopped at the door post of my room and turned to look at me. "Come back late and you will know why Natasa is my first name." She said with a wicked smile and walked out. I'm sure my transport fare wasn't included. As always, I had to trek to the market.


I let my anger "out" "How the hell am I supposed to do that, when I've not eaten since morning? Hope you know it's 5 p.m?" I barked in my mind. I dare not say that out, otherwise I'll join my mama where she is.


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She left my room breathing heavily, as if she had just pushed a truck. She's always like that after unleashing her terror on me. I gently got up from the bed with pains shooting out from every corner of my body. I took a face cap from my wardrobe. I usually put it on when going out, so that at least my baldness can be hidden away from public view. I zipped up the white gown I was putting on. Though the gown has turned from white to brown, I still call it by its real colour. That gown will be called a rag even in the house of a poor man. But who cares? Does the world really care about me? I owe no one anything and no one owes me anything, I thought. I purposely refused to clean up the traces of tears on my face as I took a black sack beneath my bed and began my journey to the market.



As I walked, I tried to take my mind off the whole drama of my life, but the groanings of the worms in my intestine gave me a good reason to think about the day mum bade farewell to this world.

On that morning just like every other student, I was sitting in class getting set for the first lesson of the day, I neatly wrote my date on top right hand corner of my exercise book. My subject teacher was getting ready to start, before the head teacher of my school walked in. And as usual, we stood up to greet him. He calmly asked us to take our sit as he took my teacher by her hand and they went outside to talk briefly. "Kathryn" my subject teacher called immediately they got inside the class. My heart skipped and within a microsecond, I thought about what I did wrong to be called after a brief talk between my teacher and the head teacher. Little did i know that I did nothing wrong, something did me wrong.

My teacher took me home without saying a word and left after making sure I got inside the house. Seeing the crowd of people gathered around my house, my heart began to beat heavily. I ran into the house anxious to know what was happening. I got inside hoping to ask my mother about what was happening, but as I scanned the faces of those sitting in the sitting room, she was not there. I rushed into her room after remembering that I left her in there before going to school. "Mommy, I called out" but I got no response.
My dad came into the room and broke the news which tore me apart. "Your mother committed suicide at exactly seven minutes past seven today," he said and left the room hastily, not willing to embarrass himself with the tears forming in his eyes. At that moment, it was as if a swarm of bee was feasting on me. Cold shivers ran down my spine. "Nooooooooo!" I screamed with every strength in me. The people sitted in the sitting room rushed into the room I was and I heard consolations ranging from sorry! please! Eyyah!. Already soaked in tears, I continued to scream out.

In seconds, I began to remember all the times I would return back from school to meet my mum in deep thoughts and sometimes in tears. I remembered those times she would wipe her eyes and with a smile she'll say "is well" no mommy, I will always reply trying to correct her. It is "it's well" not "is well"
She will always give me that smile of a mother that says you don't know anything yet and gently tell me to go take my food. I never knew she was actually saying that she is in a well. A year after her death my dad informed me that she had to take her life because breast cancer was silently eating her up. At that time, I knew nothing about breast cancer. I just nodded as if I understood what he said.

Three years after my mother died, my father married the woman who brought misery to my life. Her name is Natasa, my step mum. I had always wondered why she's called Natasa instead of Natasha until I was told by a friend.

"Never forget, her name is Natasa, she wants to kill me" those were the last words of my father few months after he married my step mum Natasa. I came from school one day I didn't see my dad and till today, his whereabouts is unknown. Natasa told me he traveled. "To where?" I asked that day. And with that wicked smile, she told me "Hades"

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My face was already filled with the tears I tried so hard to fight back. I just felt like crying out my frustration, that's if only tears could. I would have cried a river. With my teary eyes, I saw a signpost and immediately I knew I had trekked an hour and I had few minutes left to reach the market. You don't need to ask how I knew that. I have walked through that road "a thousand and one times".



I stopped and sat beside the road. Maybe, I should just stay and cry enough before entering the market. I never knew that tears will never cease if the memory of the cause is still fresh. I sobbed until I could sense everywhere was going dark. I quickly wiped my face and asked a passerby what the time was. My heart almost shattered into pieces when he told me seven minutes past seven. "I'm dead" I screamed out as I quickly took my sack and rushed into the market. My heart was beating twice as fast seeing a flood of people rushing out of the market with their goods. I dashed into the shop of one of the traders who was almost done packing her goods.



"Mama, abeg sell for me" I said with my voice trembling. She barked angrily "You dey craze abi? You know wetin be time? Comot for my shop abeg." I really don't blame her, everyone is trying to beat the traffic. I hurriedly left the shop and headed to another trader I knew very well. "Kathy why you dey come this kind time," she said and sighed afterwards. "Mama, abeg just pity me" I pleaded as tears began to roll down my cheek.

"Bring money and tell me wetin you wan buy" she quietly said. I dipped my hand into the breast pocket of my gown, which is the only pocket on that cloth, but I found neither the money nor the paper containing the list of things I should buy. At that moment I felt a bang on my chest. " It can't be". I checked the pocket again, this time bringing it out, but it was empty. I touched all parts of my gown hoping to discover another pocket, but I found none. I looked at the woman who was calmly waiting to sell to me, she looked back at me. "Mama..." I managed to say but no, I completed the sentence with an outburst of cry. Placing my both hands on my head, I quietly left the market.



As I stepped out of the market, I tried not to even think of the consequence of my action. "What is the time sir?" I asked a passerby. "Seven minutes past seven" I heard him reply. Obviously his time is faulty, I thought. My heart was too heavy to even think about anything, my head seemed to be carrying a log of wood on it. Natasa will send me to the grave today. A friend of mine in school, told me if I reverse the letters of the name Natasa, it will mean A-Satan. I felt an explosion on my body, immediately I remembered that. I sat beside the road, closed my teary eyes and immediately, I lost consciousness of my immediate environment. Flashes of past events flooded by mind like wildfire. I couldn't concentrate on anything else even if I tried to. My tears ceased to flow, but my heart never ceased to beat even though I wished for it a while ago.



"Hahahaha" laughter began to ceaselessly erupt for my lips. Even me couldn't understand myself. I felt so free to roam, I felt a house on the road side is the best to live in, I felt dancing to the beats of every song playing on the street was fun, I felt begging for food from a passerby was better than begging for food from A-Satan, I felt my gown was better than the best of Gucci, I felt debris is not as bad as people see it. And yeah, all I felt became my lifestyle day after day. Nothing really mattered again except my life, which I protected by moving away from speeding vehicle and running away at any sight of danger. I continued like that day after day, month after month, alone with my mind.





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I was running faster than my legs could carry me. I used my legs to find my path, due to the fact that not even a ray of light crossed the bushy environment I was running through. With my eyes dripping down tears, my heart beating like never before. I tried to catch my breath within the slightest bit of time, my both legs were crying for spare legs, my boobs were pleading for five seconds of rest because they had been up and down within the last ten minutes.

I was almost singing victorious songs when I got to an open space that was surrounded by withered, tall and slim trees. The overwhelming breeze of the environment swept through me and made me shiver. My teeth responded to the breeze by gnashing, my hands were visibly shaking both for fear and for cold. I placed my back on one of the trees and consciously placed my left hand on my tummy. With my back on the tree I slid down and took a sitting position."why are they chasing me?" "What have I done to them?" Many questions raced through my mind as I tried to think of many things ranging from the relevant to the irrelevant. “You can't run more than your strength can carry sweetheart” a voice spoke and I knew it was the voice of one of the men chasing me. “Please leave me alone” I begged with tears rolling down my eyes. “What have I done to you?“ I asked.


I finally saw the group of people pursuing me, they were 3 young street guys. My heart was pounding very fast. I've never witnessed or been in such a situation before. "Ple...." I tried to speak but they shut me up by placing their index fingers on their lips. Tears were rolling down my eyes as I pleaded for mercy, but it fell on deaf ears and before my very own eyes, they undressed me and took turns to rape me. I cried throughout the night, it was really horrible but no, my mind convinced me that it's better to get raped than to get beaten by A-SATAN. I still felt so free to roam, I still felt that a house on the road side is the best to live in, I still felt dancing to the beats of every song playing on the street was fun, I still felt begging for food from a passerby was better than begging for food from a step mother, I felt my gown was better than the best of Gucci, I felt debris is not as bad as people see it. I was raped severally and as a result of that, I got pregnant twice and I had miscarriage twice. I was chased out like a fly from certain areas, I was wiped many times with all manner of cane, I was scorned by little children. And the assault never ceased, the humiliations never stopped rather it increased day after day, until one day.



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I was in the midst of debris as always, casting one up and another down. What pleasure could be more than throwing up a bag of used diapers, empty tins of beverages and all other household waste and laughing in the midst of the scene? You won't know how pleasurable that is until you ask that man on rags walking through your streets everyday.



"Get her" I heard a voice spoke authoritatively and my idea of pleasure and fun was truncated at that moment. At that moment, I needed not to ask if they were for me or against me. Everyone except me is against me, I've always thought. My adrenaline soared to its peak and the only voice I heard was "run". As I attempted to run, I felt a hand took hold of me, before I could say jack, I felt another hand and another. My heart was throbbing so fast as I took a better look at the people who held me. Three men and a woman were staring gently at me. I had "a thousand and one" thoughts racing through my mind. Their countenance confused. They were not looking fierce and unkept as the people who had sort my harm before. Even though it seemed like they were for me, if I'm given a chance, I will take to my heels. "Please leave me" I blurted out, but it fell on deaf ears. They seemed not to be even concerned about what I have to say.



"Boss, it's seven minutes past seven by the time" I heard one of the men said. I watched as he carefully wrote "God knows what" on his notepad. As I was still trying to know why the time "seven minutes past seven" was haunting me, I heard "Inject her". It was the woman that spoke "what?" My eyes widened as I saw the last man who was well-built, pulled out an injection from his bag. I wondered why a woman would instruct a muscular guy to inject me, while she offered to turn me around. No wonder the guy had been quite all the while, I bet he was earnestly waiting for that moment. As he pierced me, "Jeeeez" I screamed and I went blank almost immediately.

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I woke up feeling as if I had slept for days. I paced around the room where I was kept, "Heal the Nation Foundation" was all I kept seeing on the calendars, posters and everything placed on the walls. I noticed that my old white gown was replaced with a new white gown which sparkled. "Why all these?" I screamed at the top of my voice. As I tried to lift up my hand, I discovered that I was handcuffed. "Calm down" the muscular man who injected me said as he came in. "Please, let me go" I begged and my tears never disappointed, it rolled down my eyes. I looked at the cloth I was wearing, before looking back at the muscular man. "These are not my clothes, give my clothes back to me" I begged. "But those are rags" the muscular man replied. "I love my rags" I yelled out. "Give them back and let me go. This is not my house"



"Seven minutes past seven, seven minutes past seven, seven minutes past seven..." Was what I kept hearing ceaselessly. "Stop!" I screamed out, but the voice continued. I tried to block my outer ear but the voice became louder. I looked at the man standing before me, he wasn't the one speaking, but he seemed not even bothered by what was happening. "Please help me, what is happening to me? I'm hearing voices" "It's schizophrenia," he said quietly and continued "it's a mental disorder. It can take advantage of your emotions and mind by using past events." Immediately he mentioned that, I remembered the words of my father. "Your mother committed suicide at exactly seven minutes past seven today"



I broke into tears. "Please, help me"' "You now agree you need help?" He asked and I defined the kind of help I needed. "Help me shut off these voices, give me my clothes and let me go" I replied. He shook his head and immediately opened his bag. My heart failed me as he took out an injection. I went blank few minutes after he pierced me without sympathy.

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It took me six months of rest, lots of physical activities, healthy diet and intake of medications to fully recover. I became mentally, emotionally and psychologically stable. And here I stand before you all completely free. I concluded wiping off the tears that flowed like a river on my face, while telling my story to a crowd of men and women that had come for the 10th Year anniversary of Heal the Nation Foundation.



Three years ago I sat down on the couch watching as Heal the Nation Foundation celebrated their success, I didn't understand what they said that day but today, I'm standing as a testament to what they said. I turned over to Mr Francis, the man who spoke on the TV programme I watched before I was sent to the market by Natasa. "Sir, you turned my life around the day you took off my old white gown and replaced it with a new one. I will forever be grateful" I said while trying to fight back tears.

"Sir, continue the good work, there are so many insane persons out there. I'm happy you know that not all of them were attacked with insanity by the so-called "village people", most of them are there because of depression, most of them are psychologically unstable. They just need a few months of care. The truth is that they will always think they love their rags until you get the rags off them, just like you have done to me and so many others.



To the parents and guardians here, most especially guardians. Never oppress anyone to the point they get into rags. So many died in the rags. I'm actually saying that it is very dangerous out there. I was on rags, roaming the streets for two years plus.

That man, woman, boy or girl roaming your streets in rags was put in that condition by someone. If you and I get the rags off the ones in our neighborhood, in little or no time we will make the world a happy place. Thank you.

The crowd clapped their hands till I got to my seat.



The end

[Color= red]I'll appreciate your kind and honest reviews thanks[/color]

It is a very touching piece.
There is a lot to be said about mental health in Nigeria.
Ll

grace66:
It is a very touching piece.
There is a lot to be said about mental health in Nigeria.
Ll

thank you