Fearless-Your Victory is Assured
The first time I drew blood was during my primary school days in a public school. It was an epoch-making day for me and the beginning of fearlessness that roars “like a lioness anytime” you invade her territory.
I was preparing to write the Common Entrance examination from Primary Five. My mother had to negotiate with the class teacher of one of the Primary Six classes’ arms to join her after-school tutorials class. I’ve always been demure and soft-looking; shyness became the topper on the nimble combination. Before I could know it, I had become the quietest in a class of huge noise-makers who were my seniors.
Amongst them was a girl who I remember was called Chisom. I had known Chisom before joining her class for tutorials. She would beg for popcorn and other goodies bought with coins during most recesses, and I would oblige her. It started from a random meeting to a well-orchestrated waiting at the snack stand. Unfortunately for her, I refused to give her any snack on a particular day of tutorials in her class. That was where the trouble started.
She couldn’t forgive. She also announced to the class that she would beat me “one day.” Every day became the eve of one day.
After classes, I would try to escape with the teacher so she would not beat me. Fear indescribably held me. What made me not give her simple snacks, I would ask myself with a trembling heart. Everyone was looking forward to the day she will beat me thoroughly. The rough boys stoked the fire with taunts on Chisom, daring her to put her threats into action.
One day, after classes, I decided not to jump out to hurry home. I can’t place what must have happened in me, but the feeling was that “enough was enough.” She said she would beat me one day, pointing her yellow finger to my face. I told her to do it “today.”
Thankfully, I wore pants to school (I used to forget some days then. What did a child know?). The boys cheered; they would feed with live clips from a fight movie. I tucked each of the two side hems of my gown into the pant and got ready. Chisom already had red, swollen eyes from a bout of conjunctivitis. She also tucked hers in. The fight started.
My Chi has always been awake. I lifted her in one straight attempt and eased her onto the concrete floor, and I targeted the swollen eyes, to which I added more flesh. I took some sand from the ground cracks closest to me to stuff her mouth to finish her off. The ones that couldn’t go in were coarsely rubbed on her chins as she struggled to let go.
As she struggled to let go, I became more infuriated and kept hitting her until the spectators felt they had seen enough. They dragged me out and declared me the winner. ‘sorry’ was her lot amidst warnings never to try Linda again to the loser. She remained on the floor shamefacedly till I left the class proudly with my school bag.
That was years ago. I had engaged in other fights afterward. I’ve had to stand my ground before hefty people threatening fire and brimstone. They took a chill and left with recovered sanity at the end of the day.
I realized that it takes a day of “if I die, let me die” decision to challenge what has kept you afraid for so long a time.
You have to stand for once to confront overblown issues. People could be expecting you to fail, but the worst thing that can happen to you is to fall without a push: that is the height of cowardice and the most bizarre form of failure. Victory is always assured, but if you have to fail, fail because you took the first punch at your fear, not while running away from it.-
“For the LORD, your God is the one who goes with you to fight for you against your enemies to give you victory.” Deuteronomy 20:4
Linda Ojukwu
