Getting in touch with is one of the most painful things a dreamer can ever experience. Sailing away from reality will always have a memory of realization that it is important to be part of it. Wishing into reality and dancing away miseries, drowning in worries that only drive you to solitude and death. If wishes were just what they are!

However there is more to reality than just mere wishes. Some aspect of finality, that it is just real, that it just has to be real are facts that can urge one to develop opinions, strong opinions that build negative or positive attitude towards very sensitive issues in life.

When I was growing up, my life was surrounded by masculine human nature. From brothers, neighbors, friends and most relatives. Most of my neighbors were boys, I have no sisters and my friends too were mainly boys because that was what was there in the neighborhood. The only feminine I felt close to were my mother and a very close friend in school. I remember at one point in primary seven, she lost her dad and wrote me a letter that she wasn’t going to come back to school, that she was changing schools. I went to my mama and demanded to be transferred to the same school. My mother thought I was absurd.

My brothers and the father of my baby are the only masculine creatures who should have treated me better, they never did. From the spicy talk from my friends, colleagues and even relatives, I believed that there’s a special way that I should have been treated as the only daughter and their only sister. So I grew up knowing that I am a queen of some flavor and should be treated in that way. It is the only way I believed I should be treated. It was a long dream.

There are some words I wasn’t sure when I’d use, I never believed I’d use them; father, daddy, papa… I never had seen one. I was never told of any. Resentment and bitterness inside me, though halted by the fear to ask who. I didn’t want to make mother uncomfortable and although I never wanted to seem rude to her. So I kept cool but bitterness and resentment eating me from the inside slowly. Why wouldn’t she tell me? Would it be something that I couldn’t bear or something that I’d regret hearing? All these fears kept me at bay. Did she think I never wanted to know?

This was climaxed by the fact that my brothers concubines knew that I was a bastard and they laughed it off. This was actually the final revelation of my desire to leave home, go far away where there is no one I all family, run away from reality. What really made this decision come so easily was the fact that one of my brothers expelled me from where. I called home for reasons I never knew and never got to understand, and what made it sad was that even my mother could not do anything because he threatened and never listened to her. Secondly one of my brothers’ wife had called my mother a name I am not comfortable with just because the father of her husband, my brother and my father were two different people.

Next was the father of my baby. He turned stealthily and slowly away from us gave us the cold shoulder and didn’t care any bit for us. The moment I dreaded came when I could not stand seeing my baby go through what I went through. Could it be rejection? I felt guilty because seemingly I would subject my baby to that feeling. He played cold and I swore not to talk him into his responsibility, so I let him choose. He chose silence and indifference. I played along.

I don’t want to play the victim. A victim who missed out of better treatment from the masculine species. This is the sole reason, I left home and went far away. Away to pitch my foundation for me and my baby. For I had lost hope on relying on anyone, but God.