LETTER TO MY YOUNGER SELF – EUNICE OLADOKUN

Dear Younger Self,

Sorry I left you. I’m so sorry I’m just writing to you after years we’ve departed. I had no choice than to leave you, I wanted you to face the realities of life. Before anything at all: How are you, darling? I am sure you are doing great! I was reminiscing about your memories, I couldn’t hold back my tears. It rushed down uncontrollably.

Your days were filled with pains and sorrows! You were seen as a retarded being! I can remember how you lost your sight then. You were indoors for months when your mates were in school. God answered Mother’s prayer and those of some eminent Christians, and restored the sight. Even now, you can hardly do anything without your glasses now. How could a girl of eleven years go blind? It sounds weird in their ears. I sometimes look at you and smile. You were a small girl but you saw fear and faced it. How did you even cope then? How did you cope without seeing a glimpse of how a day looked like for months? I still can’t deduce how you felt during those odd times. This had brought me to conclude that you’re strong.

Am I to write on how friends marvelled at your visual impairment and you still found the time to play with them? Even when I pushed you to retaliate, you just smiled back and dashed into your room. I’ve always cherished that particular trait. Do you remember how that guy you called ‘brother’ in your church wanted to fondle the sensitive part of your body? I am glad you ran out that day. Do you remember what he told people? He said he was trying to teach you something and you started screaming at the loudest pitch. He even said you were trying to suck his blood when you bit his wrist vehemently. That was because he didn’t let go of you easily. Since they’ve branded you a witch before, everyone found it very easy to believe him.

Do you remember that fair girl that sat next to you in Basic one? Do you remember how she opened the loo’s door on you, even though she knew you were there? Do you remember how she stole the class teacher’s money and kept it in your bag? Even though many didn’t believe you, but I do. She did that out of jealousy. You led the class for good eleven years (primary and secondary) and that was why you saw hell on earth. I think you’ve prepared for it because you didn’t even mention it into Mother’s ear. You suffered chronic insomnia too, but I thank God you don’t have that again. You had a reputation for eccentricity. It’s not a falsity, but it’s the truth. I shall not blame you, it was just because you were exposed to pains at the tender age. It made a lot of people think you were a member of a coven, but you were not. They just didn’t understand your emotions, only Mother does.

It took you a while before you surrendered everything for Christ. You think you can do things alone! You were stubborn and adamant! You gave Mother headaches to cure! … but I thank God HE cornered you up. I really do miss everything about you. I miss the way you ate, leaving oily stain on your cloth. I miss the way you sucked those fingers of yours. I miss the way you cried when Mother called you to take your bath. I miss the way you recite the “States and Capitals”, and how you chewed your mouth during the recitation. I miss your natural curly hair. I wish I could have them back, but it’s gone forever. I miss the way you sang the National Anthem. That has always cracked up anyone having depression.

If anyone hasn’t told you this, let me be the first to: I’m proud of you! Don’t tell me you’re blushing. *Smiles* In spite of your little age and disability, you discovered your talent when you were just age twelve. You started writing from age twelve. In the history of Mercyland International College (the spring you drank from), you’re the youngest and best poetess, writer, and speaker that has ever represented the school. I saw one of your books (My Anthology) about two days ago. Your writings brought me down the memory lane when I flipped through and found a poem titled “My Cry”. I won’t share it with you, because you don’t even have any cause to cry again.

You represented your L.G and came first. I can vividly remember how you sat betwixt dignitaries that day. Your joy knew no bounds as you shed those tears. Only a few would understand your tears; they were tears of joy. Among equals, you stood out. To say “I’m proud of you” is an understatement. I doff my cap for you! The day I finished from secondary school was actually the day I said goodbye to you. I had to say bye because I was moving to a different world entirely. Being with you won’t do me any good.

Mother was so happy when she heard I left you, she has always been my great supporter since I bade farewell to you. I’m happy to tell you I’m not the same way I left you. I’ve killed the inferiority I inherited from you immediately I left. You know you’ve once told me you’d love to become a Chartered Accountant. I’ll attain that height soon. When I left you, you only wrote in books. The story has changed, I now write beyond books. I don’t talk like you do again; my writings do the talking. My writings will make you think, make you smile and make you cry at times.

Life has taught me a lot, I’ve learnt and I’m still learning. Everyday comes with a lesson. My life itself is a lesson. I’ve been to so many places! I’ve seen a lot of faces! Fortune has smiled on me. It’s a great pleasure to write you that, I’m not the girl you’ve known me to be. I’m happy about the woman I’m becoming, extremely far above rubies. I’m not intimidating you. Urrgh! Don’t get me wrong. I’m just enumerating some of the benefits I’ve derived since I left you for Canaan. I’m happy to tell you, my eye is getting better, though it’s not the way God created it, but it’s still not the way it was then.

The Lord has worked on my sight, and I believe he is still working. I have a great assurance that I will make it. I have this confirmation within me that I’m going places. If the stroke of fortune would have it’s way, I’d love to tell you more when next I write. Tell your friends I’m still scaling the hurdles. Tell your peers I’m still clearing the obstacles. Tell them I’ve not gotten to Canaan. Tell them the battle is not yet over. Tell them I’ve not attain my desired heights. But tell them I’m not the Eunice they knew then. Send my love to the remaining younger self in the fold. Finally, all along my pilgrim journey, I want to walk with HIM. I look forward to writing to you soon when I badge more achievements.

Your older self, Oladokun Eunice.

Oladokun Eunice is that young teen that thinks big. She was not christened Grace, but she is an embodiment of Grace. She found Grace in all ramifications, Grace availed for her, Grace kept her, what have you. She’s an ardent Christian. She’s a prospective Chartered Accountant. She’s a prolific writer. She’s a poetess. She’s a reader. She’s a speaker. Also a student. She believes the pen can change the world.