The rituals, blood and milk

“Take off your clothes” my mummy said.  I never asked why.

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Curtesy google commercial images.

As mentioned previously religion was very much a part of my world, but my mummy took it to the extreme.  There were weekly prayer meetings and some of  the church sisters would attend her home for fellowship. I was the only child present sitting in the corner and I was bored.  Without thinking I started singing, I don’t even know where I heard the song.   This was one of the craziest thing I did.

But I can imagine how I must have sounded I was 11 years old, I recall I was doodling and drawing  pictures and in my own world.  I was not allowed to stay in my room. The church sisters ignored me in the corner; almost invisible to all.  “Stand by my man and…”  SLAP, my face stung as my mummy slapped me across the face for singing the “devil” song.  I didn’t know to sing was bad, but from that moment I knew that when her friends came  I would be seen and never heard. I  was so embarrassed,  I never sang again.  I know it was my fault I got the slap, but I didn’t know why and I really didn’t mean anything by it.  The label of me being a “bad child” stuck.

Once the fellowship was over I went back to my room; until later that evening I was sitting in my room as usual when she came in the room with two bottles in her hand and a huge white basin.  “Take off your clothes” she said.  I got off the bed immediately and proceeded to take off my clothes. I was told to take everything off.

Whilst standing there I noticed the basin was filled with some white substance, it was milk. ” Get in the basin ” she said.  I stood in the basin and felt the cold milk over my feet. I was ashame because I was naked  and I  had started sprouting pubic hairs.  😦

She then proceeded to poor blood over me.  I’m not sure where the blood came from, but it was some form of ritual. I hated this, I recall the blood  smelt very raw. “I’m cleansing you from the evil spirits” she said as she continued to pray over me pushing me forward and backward at the same time.   I stood there traumatized until she prayed over me. I dared not complain. I tried to hold my breast with one hand and cover my pubic hairs with the other, but I was. It allowed to do so. ” put your hands down” she said.   I remained silent until the process was over, then she told me not to wash it off but  to put on my clothes. I felt sticky and dirty.

little did she know as soon as she left the room, I went to the bathroom and scrubbed myself. Nevertheless, this became a regular occurrence. I dared not tell anyone.

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