Just Mary

  A guy in my office says beauty is pink lips, light skin He says, light skin makes other features pop out unlike black skin He believes most light skinned people are beautiful, I try to tell him beauty is more diverse than that, Before I finish my sentence, another jumps in, no beauty is dark skin, tall, , white teeth, clear, soft, slender.   Good hair, and by good hair she means the opposite of kinky, coily hair. No, beauty is Short, tall, big eyes, Narrow eyes, brown, blue, black eyes , Straight, coily hair, black, white, big, small, two legs, one leg, big

I consider myself  a religious person, a Christian, I am an Adventist and was born in a family of Adventists. Over the years  i was just going to church because my dad said so, it was what was expected of me as an obedient child. When  I was able to make my own decisions, I still chose to be an Adventist and realized  I enjoy being an Adventist even though I don’t seem to fit the image of a true Adventist. By a true Adventist I mean a girl who wears her natural hair, wears long skirts and dresses, doesn’t apply any makeup, except on her wedding (because that’s what it appears to be acceptable), no jewelry, listens and reads Adventist materials. Unfortunately, I find trousers comfortable, fallen in love with simple jewelry, apply makeup, wear my hair short except, I color it, I wear short skirts and dresses. You get the idea, so inside and outside church I get stares, people, fellow Adventists judging my looks, calling me names, I remember a friend of my brother’s called me Babylon t

My father, who was a Head teacher at one of the rural secondary schools liked travelling long distances at night or very early in the morning to attend Teachers meetings in different education zones which were very far from where we lived. Those were some of the most dreadful moments of my life, when he travelled at night or very early in the morning. We all hated it, loathed every second of what we had to go through as we waited for him to get back home safely.   I and my siblings would crump up together on the sofa or on someone’s bed waiting for his knock the knock which would assure as of that he was alive and well.  No one said it out loud, but all knew what each of us was thinking at that particular moment, the silence among us was loud enough to be heard by our souls, the fear of losing the only parent we had. I lost my mother when I was young, 7/8 years old I don’t  really remember when, and it’s unfortunate that I  can’t  also tell if the reason is because I was  too young to