VIVA VOCE (Third Edition)

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“She is my little caterpillar” “she will become a beautiful butterfly very soon” these are the words of my parents to everyone that cares to listen. ‘You are the pride of my  youth and the crown  of my  grey head’, my father will say every morning.   Though I laugh at their praise, I wonder why I am being compared to a creature like caterpillar and at the same time a butterfly. So a fuss I always make with a stern saying ‘I am not a caterpillar’. Until one morning my mother with a smile sat me down and said:  ‘caterpillar to many may seems to be the laziest creature in the garden because they know not what he is to become. So with a stamp from the feet its dream is killed with it. However the danger of going out has never stopped a caterpillar from going to the field to eat and eat until it can no longer move again. So a cocoon it builds around itself as it allowed time to define it’s essence. It patiently wait in its cocoon for its metabolism to be complete and just about the right time the cocoon breaks and out flew the butterfly’ she smiled.  ‘I don’t understand’, I said. ‘My child you are fragile and you know not the danger that lies ahead but never should you be discouraged from pursuing your dream. Feed on  knowledge, meditate on understanding, take risk and be prepared to fly. For just at the right time your colour will shine and you will fly with the wings that has been made strong with time. But always remember you can only be a butterfly if your metabolism is complete’. ‘Hmm’ I sighed and with a swing of my head I said ‘mummy I am a caterpillar and I will become a butterfly’.     So off I went full of aspiration as I set out to feed on life and enroute I met you. Friendly I thought, as I embrace your arm of friendship. Your captivating smile made me want you to be around forever. Engrossed not by your gift nor by the protection you seems to offer but by the confidence you have built in me knowing that I have a friend in you, so I thought. Carried away by the sweetness of your ever rolling tongue I realised not when you became a burden and every moment with you turned sour. You came not with knife nor gun, yet you robbed me off my confidence and turned me to a shadow of my dream. Tearing me apart with every touch from your lustful hand. My question is what could have attracted me to you? For I’m still but a child and my flower is yet to blossom, but you said ‘pear is best eaten green’. ‘it hurts’ I said but you answered ‘that should be our little secret’, and ever since I have learnt to harbour pain.   How long do I have to endure this? Night became my greatest fear because when alone the memory kept swinging by and I feel the pain of your weight on my fragile body every night. Oh the excruciating pain from your penetration will never go away with time. My mouth refuse to whisper because of the fear you have instilled in me. So quiet I became as my beautiful wings turns dull and became deficient of strength.   ‘I don’t deserve this’, I said with an unclear voice as tears rolled down my eyes. The perplexity of my heart made the tears very hard to hold back. I couldn’t savour the joy that comes with being alive but still I vetoed against the memory that seems not to fade with time. I am not weak but my heart has been knocked into total darkness as a result of the tenebrous reality that has dawned on me. For now I know my cocoon has been broken before its time and out flew me a dull and weak butterfly who only survived by grace. I am a victim of sexual abuse. What should I do?  ‘Talk dear’. I look beside me and saw my mum then I realised I have been thinking loud. Sweetheart she said as tears rolled down her eyes then I knew she has heard it all. You should have talk. She said. I was afraid I answered. ‘You shouldn’t be, you are my caterpillar you stopped your adventure out of fear and refused to meditate on the knowledge you have fed on from life. You give in to fear and allowed your cocoon  to be broken before time. You made your tongue voiceless and allowed your confidence to be taken on a journey that seems not to have an end’. She replied. ‘So mummy your little butterfly may not radiate the elegance you hoped for and may never fly again’. I said. ‘Dear’, she answered ‘the strength of a butterfly lies not in its colour  but in fulfilling it’s essence which is pollination. And just so you may know not all butterflies are brightly coloured. So let not this stops you from living  for you can choose not to be a victim. Yes, you can fly again if only you will use your wings’. ‘How’ I asked. She answered and said ‘first by exposing the friendly enemy who perpetrated this evil. Remember to always confide in your parents come what may for we love you, voice out when a touch you don’t want and tell others to do the same.