Life hasn't been fair to me since I opened my eyes to the world. I grew up in my mother's arm, never knowing my father. My mother was a young lady with no relatives.
I grew up acknowledging the ramshackle building, I called home. My mother had wrinkles even in her early 20's. I watched her weep every night as she cuddles me till I fall asleep.

I became 5 years old and I could only see, hear and jerk. My mother weeps on daily basis. She calls me JOY. Every one keeps babbling to me. My peers look away at the sight of my presence, have never been to school. Churches were like a chair to me, My mother takes me from one place to another, tied with a dirty wrapper to her back.

I hate going to those churches, they keep invoking things on me, they are too noisy. And all I could do was jerk and drool on my clothes. Getting home, I would watch my mother sob as she puts a tasteless food into a bowl as she feeds me with her crooked fingers.

I end up puking it all out, I hate the taste, I can't even identify the meal, then she cries and starts cursing a man.
"May my ancestors judge you, Ajumobi", that was her favourite curse when she weeps.

I'm 11 years old, I haven't said a word or taken a step with my legs. I keep jerking and drooling all the time. There are so many things stuck in me. "Who is Ajumobi?" "Who is my father?" "Why am I different from other humans?"

Most times the feeling of not been able to speak sucks, and I end up jerking violently, causing my mother more pain. Most times I wish, I could hug her.

Wryly, I have no voice. So I lay all day thinking and crying within..

Today, I'm 25. I haven't said a word or taken a step, then I wonder why my mother named me JOY•

Fiction.

© Damie.