Be sure when you pray. For when God begins to answer, It sometimes can seem beyond anything you could imagine, anything you thought you knew, even when that everything is in your own simple life.
And He answers not in the most conventional of ways.
A little girl walked into the office today, with her young little brother hollering and crying (read screaming) almost every minute. When I heard that cry at first, I was in between my meal, and I left the staff eager to calm the crying child. I was very relieved to find him in his mother’s lap, with his doting sister close by.
Post meal, I took a file, finding it was a new patient and as usual, called the name awaiting an adult lady possibly pregnant to walk in. In came a worried mother, two children in hand, one visibly upset and the other bright and dandy. She told me that her daughter was the patient. Her daughter was five. Smiling, beautiful, radiating hope. The picture did not make sense. She was watching baby shark doo doo and telling me which cartoon the brother liked and how that might calm him down.
Her mother explained how her daughter had gone to a party the previous day and later on came complaining of pain while passing wee wee, she was distraught as she painted a picture of an older boy about 12, who had taken the girl upstairs and put things inside her. My heart just broke in two. The girl now visibly scared tried relating what had happened then went almost silent. Almost out of reflex, I called her unto my lap and just listened, first a stick, then papers, she described the length, the size, the slight pain, the no bleed, and when she was done, she looked up, searching my eyes, as if waiting for me to tell her she had done wrong.
I knew that look, I had once worn that look.
As I readied the mother at the inevitable that we would have to check and confirm no foreign body had been left, I felt terrified, would she feel pain? would she be traumatised? Would she have to remember this for the rest of her life? Good God would we find a foreign body? I found myself kindly but firmly keeping people out of the room, no files, no meds to be taken, just the girl, the mother, the cartoon, My Mentor and I.
I was so scared.
And I didn’t understand why. It was a simple exam, not even a speculum needed.
I found myself gently explaining everything to the little girl. I told her that I was proud of her for telling her mother, instructed her to never ever let anyone touch her there, God I even mentioned until she was married, scared she would live her life hating sex. I told her we would check if there was any more paper, and felt a lump as she told me how it had come out while in the car and onto her panties. Squeaking as if that was a bad thing. I told her it was okay that the big doctor and I would confirm nothing else was left there and that everything was okay, that mummy would be standing with her to make sure she was okay.
I let her climb onto the examining bed and covered her and allowed her some few minutes to just acclimatize herself. I allowed her to get her trouser and the panty off and remained covered, and checked them to make sure there was no blood. When she was comfortable, I called my Mentor, introduced him and we gently cracked jokes. She was gently examined and by God’s grace we found an intact hymen, no foreign body! I was so relieved.
And as I listened to my mentor counsel the mum and instruct the little girl not to allow anyone to touch her, I felt relief. We gave the two children sweets and allowed them home, and as they walked out, I watched the girl wave her glove made balloon smiling and saying goodbye
She looked happy.
My heart ached and knotted as I remembered a screaming girl, pinned down by four people with a heavy light blinding her, she was crying and crying and screaming, but no one stopped, She didn’t know why she was being pinned down by four five adults onto a metal bed, she did not understand where mum was, she didn’t understand why her legs were wide open, but she saw the green thing that came out when they finally released her. She remembered it held on forceps, and the triumph she had felt in the room; her foreign body!
She couldn’t explain to them the shame she felt. She could not explain even when her mother asked her where she had gotten such ideas from. How could she start explaining that “aunty” who every day was left with her used to strip and sashay naked in front of her in the living room, giving her detailed explanations of how the shopkeeper downstairs (her new boyfriend) was touching her. How could she explain how every night in that kitchen where She and aunty had shared a double decker that aunty would call her down to her bed and ask her to finger her, then sleep smiling slowly moaning to her hands. How could she explain that she had wanted what made aunty so happy? How could she explain that she had been told “shhhhh..” to never speak a word about it?
She had gone home that evening, and found her father angry over lost pencils, completely oblivious of what had transpired, and he had caned her feet, for being late or losing pencils or whatever the reason had been. She remembered crying not for the pencils, or for the caning but for the pain she felt inside. Picturing those many men pinning her, and here was again on someone’s lap receiving pain. She had watched her parents fight as her mother stepped in to defend her and her father thinking she was obstructing him from instilling discipline, and that fight in her eyes was ugly, and it was all because of her.
She had hated the event, the pain, the shame and the guilt and had buried that memory, deep within her soul somewhere.
And her life had moved on from then, that aunty hadn’t left them because she never spoke a word, and for the next 4 years she saw stranger more bizarre behaviour from her, but she had never touched her again. And the little girl had learnt never to trust herself again, that sex was to be given never received. She had hated been touched, especially there and she had masked it in enough ways, always pleasing others, and getting them there long before they had a chance of thinking of her. She had forgotten the why. BUT she had survived.
Then 19 years later, she had prayed that a solemn prayer. That this be her year of love, that the Lord may heal her of her past wounds and pains that she may never again carry them into another relationship. That the Lord may make her whole. That He may ready her and teach her to love, not a semblance of it, not for show or because it is what was the norm, not for validation of any kind, but that she may understand and gain full knowledge of this thing love, this word wholeness. This complete and full peace. That the Lord may help her unlearn all the things she had learnt about love and sex, and teach her what He had really meant when He said He was Love and what He had wanted when He created Sex.
She had prayed her little prayer and moved on with her life, satisfied by the many small lessons He had taught her along the way
Then a sunny little girl walked into the office with her screaming little brother and her distraught mother.
He sees even the past pain and seeks to heal your wounds.