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| Omosun Sylvester Urdeen |
| Ritual Space |
At a very early age, the illness that passed through my person made me who I now am. It does not have to be explained to me. Nor, do I have to be told, that this gift, I found to cope within the new me, was one not possessed by everyone. It was as if God takes away with one hand, then he gave back with the other. "The gift of "learning to hear by sight alone The gift was not always, to a small boy, whose legs were still unsteady. They were accepted, the way I accepted my mother�s breast each morning Often my mother could crouch on the floor, her face close to mine, searching my eyes. Mixed with that great love was a hope, that I could always accept the gift and could never be hurt by what has been taken away As time passed, the silence did not prevent me from being involved in what I came to call "a non-deaf man-stunt" (doing things against the limitations to sound),My hearing impairments did not keep me from enjoying a normal company on Sunday afternoon or of laughing at my early Saturdays cartoon fix though quite often I strained against it�s limitation to choice when I tried for more and wished that I can as well hear like every one else I went through all the stages that lead a boy, toward manhood. Like all children I grew into an adult and moved from my parent�s domain, The gift grew as I did, Today, when I think back, to the beginning, to the illness that caused my impairment; I cannot help being thankful. I must admit I was very lucky to be alive. When I say lucky I meant it, few people in a poor society can make it without proper medical attention to fight meningitis In the hospital, I can remember, how alarmed I was when I discovered that every audible word seems to be running away from me. Each passing day, until gradually my ear stopped recording sound and I slipped completely into a silent world As time passed, my eyes became my ears and my dependence upon them grew. There was no specific time when I accepted that the change has become complete. There were no crises in the process of change as my eyes accepted the function of my ears. It was as if God as creator, took me in a reproduced form of clay made me into my selfsame shape but rearranged all the blocks that made up all my senses How do I feel, so instantly, brought low? There aren�t enough words to describe everything I felt right there, physical or emotionally It was like being born anew, into a new world of pantomime What is it to be hearing impaired, first there are the frustrations of living in a minor society that does not understand you More important, was the excitement of being different I am surprised that I am here. I have taken to looking at myself talk or that I am talking at all, without hearing my own voice it strikes me at odd moments that in the midst of this misfortune life continues and exciting too Walking from street to street, I am overwhelmed, by a desire, to be out alone, to explore my new status. I began to see things I have been aware of but never noticed. Inside me, there was a storm of feeling trying to break out. This feeling, of being transformed in time, gives a particular quality to the quest |
| short writing on Esan culture |
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