Lord You know all things, you
know that standing by this seashore bring me memories. Sometimes the cool
breeze that has travelled past no flora or fauna leaves me a tingly feel that
makes one attempt to forget. But as I step on board, the gentle alternating splashes
of the waves on the berth gently brings back memories, first the pleasing ones,
then the dreadful. But even the blissful memories that the waves bring me are
painful – my days of watching cable.
Now an aversion, it was the
highest point of a delightful childhood in this harbour city. Between the
impatient waits for my turn, the staining of ears and the pulsating feelings of
a momentary watch through a small hole, I don’t know which made me look forward
to watching cable every holidays. It is not the cable you are thinking. It was
live pornography. A movie whose actors were hiding like us!
The city was small and isolated –
it is an island – but alive with activities. Everybody knew everybody and could
tell who was a rich visitor from the sea. These visitors came very often, and
in the afternoon, when only idle women were home, many of them, housewives.
Somehow my playmates, who were not more than ten, had come to know that
whenever they visited a woman only on windy and sunny afternoons, pleasurable
moans and rhythmic movements of naked bodies followed. They – or rather, we –
were pleased to watch through the small holes we made in windows… that was our
cable. Without satellite transmission, our minds got blurred, covered with the
dark screen of pornography.
I do not confess now because I just
got a job as a Sailor who will anchor someday on other shores and might be
cabled by other children. I confess as I fear my friends still be cabling on
larger scales and are now addicted.
I remember one afternoon that
remains the seal of my glee then, my grief now. That day the sun was low, the
leaves still. The clouds gathered afar and around us were little showers. A
visitor came by a house two compounds from ours. Words travelled to our gang
faster than lightening did across the gazing Atlantic and before the clap of
the thunder, we had expanded the little hole in the window to cable from. We
took turns to look and also took turns to listen to pleasuring moans until he
came by… Mr Akpan, the owner of that one – room apartment, and husband of the
woman we were cabling. He was too surprised to shout. He gathered us with
noiseless threats. We confessed with whimpering innocence and he whimpered more
than us that were younger. Mr Akpan
called a few neigbours and hit his door with low blows, we helped with harder
blows. The wife peeped after the third knock, body bathed in sweat and wrapper loosely
tied above her chest. Mr Akpan buried his face at her changing countenance. I
cannot remember clearly if I alone held her flowing wrapper or if I had help,
but I know we had in had the only wrapper she had on as she escaped towards the
shores. Other women followed behind us
as we chased after her; responsible men turned in shock, hiding their faces as
she approached them, the jeers increased and I am sure sensitive body parts peculiar
to womanhood flapped as she swung her hands to gain speed. Hopefully, the sea
washed away her shame, her husband’s pain.
I do not confess because i now
leave my beloved week old wife at home. I do not fear the lot of my uncle who
got me this job might be mine. I confess that you see the graciousness of the
Lord to me, and that He might not afflict me with my uncle’s type of pain.
He is a kind man, see his gentle
steps and confirm for yourself! He it is with the pale coloured t-shirt. All
the colours in his once brilliant world are now faded. He yesterday lost his
wife of ten years… he sent her parking. Three out of his four children were his
plumber’s. I was his solace yesterday when the newly repented born-again
plumber came home to confess. My uncle has known this plumber for about eight
years, and he in turn has known his wife for only a month less. I know my uncle
to be a player… perhaps he is a visitor on another shore - maybe cabled a
couple of times by children - and caused permanent grief in other men… but
today, I watch his drenched soul leave unseen footprints in the sand of my
morality.
You may doubt me, but I do not
confess out of fear I insist… but for graces: that the Omnipresent Who was
present in my past forgives it, and Who is present in my present soothes my
fears and Who will be present in my future keeps it safe. He alone can be in
all of it since before Him all is ever present. Loed you know all things, You
know that I love you…
Tomicity…
