My readers we are continuing from where i stopped, enjoy reading.
On the eight day of my delivery, a naming ceremony was stranger, my father and one from his brothers managed to attend the ceremony, my grandmother said, my father was in tears throughout the occasion. When the clergy asked of the name he wanted to give me, he responded with an ocean of tears. Another round of weeping and sobbing resumed. It took some time for calmness to be restored. Finally my father gathered himself together before he found his voice and in a scarsely audible voice read the name from paper he slipped into the hand of the clergy man. I was named, Myra Hauwa Frank. My father's name is Frank. The name given amidst tears would identify me in my journey of life. A newborn baby always comes into the world crying. I did. It was usual and good. What became unusual was the cry of people around me instead of rejoicing. The people were crying for different reasons, my Father was crying because he lost his wife during childbirth, grandma was crying because she lost her daughter and others were crying because it is mundane to share grief. I cried to announce to let people know my arrival into this wonderful world. Indeed a situational irony has occurred. While i was crying to announce my entrance into the world, people around were crying to mourn the exit of my mother from this world.
There is always an exception to every rule, circumstances may produced situations that can change the line of events. The new course may not necessarily be acceptable, but must be contained for certain reasons. A child's place is with her mother in her father's house. That's naturally her ancestral home in a patrilocal society as ours.
However, my mother's death changed all that I my Early life. I was never destined to Live in my father's house from the day my grandma took me from the hospital to her home. The turn of events changed and i became one of their own. I lived all my life with them devoid of any rejection. I grew up surrounded by love and loved ones. All the love my grandma had for my mother was automatically transferred to me, it's as if she had given birth to my mother all over again.
Each moment grandma called me and it happens many times a day , the name sounds in her mouth as if i was very far away from her glare and she was pleading i should never keep distance from her again. M.Y.R.A. perhaps that's her way of appealing to God that this one must not die. And i did not die at least during her life time with me.
I happened to be my grandma's eyes and ears in our neighborhood. I was smart and intelligence. I could execute many errands in a short time without grouse. Even in her business place, the whole world knew grandma had MYRA. My name suddenly became her genetic name, MAMA MYRA. It was as if MYRA was her direct and only child. I was a lovely kid. I was the strongest amongst my peers both in my neighborhood and grandma's business place. I feared no one even the boys dreaded me.
Many times grandma received reports that i had beaten up their sons and daughters on the street when playing, their parents will escort them to grandma for pacification. Grandma will apologize and warn me against doing that again. The business place of my grandma became our second home, i am always there to assist her whenever am back from school. What i detest most is cheating and insults from people most especially my peers or bullies who feels they can override me because of my gender and age.
Nobody told me my story and i continued to live my life like any other child in the community. In the school, i was exceptional, i was a darling to all my teachers. Grandma always made sure i do my assignments every day before dusk even if it means disrupting my play with my friends. I can grumble in protest, but dared not disobey her.
One day i forgot to do my homework, grandma didn't hesitate to punish me to show that life is all about carrot and stick. Stick for discipline and carrot for reward whenever i deserved. My existence in her life nearly compensated her for the loss of my mother her beloved daughter. As far as she believes her daughter wasn't dead as long as i was alive and living with her. I started schooling early, i began my nursery at the age of three, when i was six i moved to primary one. Grandma always take me to school every morning. The school is situated close to her shop some few streets apart. Grandma also always dutifully cones around to pick me up at closing time that's around 4pm. From the school straight to the shop where we stayed till dusk. Life couldn't be better than the way i was treated by grandma even the King in his palace would envy me. Grandma is the name every body called my grandmother and i joined them to be calling her the name. For me it's just a mere name. I never knew she assumed that name when i entered her life through the tragic death of my mother. Readers catch you up in Vol. 3 enjoy your day.