This is a touching story sent in by anonymous, as a follow up on the post titled Family Disconnection. I have shared my story and I know that there are many out there that have gone through similar experiences like mine and anonymous. Nothing happens without a reason let us solve the questions that has been plaguing our minds from ever since by discussing this taboo subject. Let us remove the shame and horror of the family disconnection and find comfort in each others words of wisdom.
Upon reading Obara’s story “ Family Disconnection,” it compelled me to tackle this subject matter from another poignant vantage point. I want to discuss family connections instead and how these relationships facilitate our transition back to the God Head.
From time to time in my adult years since migrating to America I’d often hear the Yankees (African Americans) say
“God looks out for fools and babies.” One day upon hearing the saying, I immediately applied it to my life.
During my thirty years on this earth, I have been a force with which to reckon. I am the fourth of six children born to an illiterate but entrepreneurial woman. I was raised as a ward of the state due to circumstances beyond my control until I was 18 years old.
I wasn’t raised by my parents per se. I was raised by my paternal Grandfather, who was fiercely protective of me.He cherished me and saw to it that my every need was taken care of since my mom and dad were elsewhere doing who knows what. Life as I knew it was turned upside down when I was 10 years old. I was taken to America by my dad via marriage to woman who I knew little of. I was excited to be in America. Everything was new and shiny like a new dime! The air was different the energy was different, it felt as if I had set foot into a new dimension (in essence I did). I
was to experience brutality and hate in the most traumatic of ways by the hand of a step and step mother and step sister who had the personification of evil imprinted on their DNA.
My younger brother and I were subjected to vicious beatings with whatever blunt object was in sight. We weren’t allowed to enter her immaculate white living room complete with the plastic covered white couches and white rugs. On one occasion the washing machine had overflowed and we poor children from Jamaica didn’t know how to operate a doggone washing machine definitely didn’t know how to stop it. Needless to say the evil step sister grabbed a metal pail and rhythmically pound our heads until our blood were mixed with suds. The coup de gras was when she beat me to a pulp in the face with an orange industrial grade extension cord. She sent me to school the following day with my brother as my guide. The teachers were horrified by the damage done to my face. Consequently they ushered me into the Principal’s officers where police officers were waiting to take my whisk me off to foster care. I was blinded in the eyes for three weeks.
I went back to live with my Grandfather in Jamaica after spending a few months in the country with my mother. My pregnant mother at the time resided in a small crawlspace along with my teen aged brother and my pregnant adult sister and her small son. It was obvious that my mother was in no position to graciously accept two more mouths to feed. I went through the issues of being rejected by mother because ,“yuh favor yuh puppa” I was told by my older sister to “go sell yuh pussy!” when I asked her for food. The sensible decision was made and my Grandfather (Mojubar)——-(mojubar here means to honor him as a dearly departed soul) came and brought me to Kingston where I did what was expected of me which was to excel in school. However, there is a wild streak in me a free solitary spirit that likes to take jaunts into a myriad of places. My Grandfather getting up in age and didn’t want his baby girl to end up a statistic decided to put me in a home for girls that was located in New Kingston. I was taken from class and was brought to the office and ceremoniously presented to a waiting social worker. The social worker explained to me that I was to be taken to a place and blah blah blah fucking blah! Once again and surely not the last time II felt the claws of rejection raking their iron monger’s mallet hot claws into my brain. I had no choice, I went. I went through the motions, grew older, educated and angry. My Grandfather passed away. My existence’s tectonic plates shifted and a void was created.My protector was gone. Unbelievable though I was okay! I never went hungry! I was decently clothed, I went to one of the best high schools in Jamaica. I had an Aunt who came from out of nowhere. I knew of her existence but not her. She found me when I thought I was alone. My older brother was living with her in Portmore and she would take me to their home on weekends and holidays. Things were good!
My Aunt passed away two years after finding me. I was once again rocked with a wave of sadness. Nevertheless with my fortuitous spirit I soldered on. I went on to college and my brother was there looking out for me while I was still in the group home. All this time my mother knew where I was but did not contact me. I wondered why? I became resentful and that solidified my resolve to be even more self reliant. I was and still am akin to a planet floating off by itself only reconnecting when it wants to. As my spirituality and sense of self grows, I realize that what I went through was predestined. God looks out for fools and babies! I became aware that I chose my parents and that I was always protected. I’ve always had someone come to my rescue. my Grandfather (Mojubar) Ogun the keeper of justice and truth! My aunt I now believe embodied Oya (orisha who rules the wind) because she was a whirlwind and smoked her craven a’s backward…(Mojubar).
When I came back to America, when I was able to focus not on surviving, but living, I was able to process the psychology behind my motivations and choices in life. I recognized that when my parents left me by the wayside, it was Divine order that was in play. I have also learned that we cannot blame our parents all our lives for the fuck ups or shortcomings that have come into ours. I refuse to let my pain become my albatross! I will let the Universe catch my tears and make sweet rain to Osun and Yemoja bosom, and I have realized that we all have our PATH to follow! You see, we are equipped with an internal compass sufficient to guide you. Then,you have the Egun and the Orisas to guide you, if you take it to them. Olodumare did not leave us here helpless! The Universe always sends or gives you a hand it is up to us to recognize and move with it! But if we aren’t taught how to then we as a people are doomed for failure. I am blessed to be able to see my path illuminated and walking in it proudly!
We are able to manifest such greatness only if we learn the secret songs of the universe. The song that plays its melodies in the platelets of blood coursing through our veins. We are all part of one great ENERGY! It is therefore the will of the Creator that we complete the circle, and an exemplary one we must in order to be return in favor at the door step of our maker. I hold no grudges! I speak love and life in all situations because that is the answer to most things that ails! Iwa Pele (Iwa Pele is your character) is the order of the day! Being good and doing the right thing is hard (when you have been kicked down) but rewarding work. I can say that the step mother who did me wrong had and is receiving recompense in ways I will not divulge in this forum. Some people use the hurts and “mommy did this” and “daddy did that” as excuses to continue to perpetuate destructive lifestyles! Some folks have never met their parents! Ponder that…..I always have to look at the glass as half full.In the larger scope of things, Someplace, somewhere, in continum some being might be having a harder time at life than you are. Find God in EVERYTHING Every SITUATION and EVERYONE! It will make the connection to the God Head much more meaningful because we are not here for our parents. God is THE PARENT! We live on vast realms beyond our vantage point! We shouldn’t be existing not for this moment, but for the furtherance of good character and gaining wisdom.
It is the habit that a child forms at home, that follows them to their marriage….Yoruba Proverb.