Welcome to the second project on obafuntaydotcom, The Letter to my unborn child project. If you missed the preview, you can view it here, just so you have an idea what we are up to, as much as the project title, speaks for itself.

Ever thought of writing a letter? Better still, a letter to your unborn child?

What would you name him/her? Why not give your unborn child a name now and write him/her a letter? Yes! Right now! Doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me.

What do you think?

Today, we’d be reading Ezinne’s letter.

Hang in there.

My Little One,

Your arrival has been long anticipated, if by none, by me

For my bosom swells with the words I have harboured for a lifetime

I hoped to tell the story myself, but I’d rather you read

For in writing, I have poured the misery of my pent soul on a blank sheet. A clean slate. My heart’s desire.

I loved. I loved a man. He loved himself

I lost my heart. He lost himself

He was my passion. Misdirected passion is death. I died a thousand times

He was my thousand pasts, my infinite future

But he lost himself. Nowhere, just in himself

He was the cordage holding the pieces of my heart, for the heart never breaks even

He was my heart in the whole, but he lost himself

Then I was certain that I’d never understand, until it was broken. I was broken

And in gathering the fragments of me, I began to understand

That to love a man, is to love yourself

And to give love to a man, you must give love to yourself

For you cannot give what you do not have.

I amassed what was left of me, and so perceived

That man is a judge, this plague, his sense of security

The finding of fault in another, his haven

So I learnt never to compromise, for in surrendering I condemned myself

I revelled in this understanding, (for I’d be judged by my actions) as wisdom, I’d heard, is supreme

As I regained what was left of my broken womanhood, I began to understand

The need to speak and let myself be heard of the world

Not just speak, but bespeak with apprehension and timeliness

For the difference between the wise and the fool is in knowing when to speak

I understood the need to find strength, a succor for my will

To stand for what I believed in, for if you stand for nothing, you fall for everything

And then you lose respect; respect is given to the man who merits it

My helpless enervation helped me know never to trust in man

For even man cannot trust him self

And in trusting no one, never to play the fool, the need for cutesy no matter

For I have come to know and revel in the knowledge that God loves ugly

The distraction of outer beauty I abhor, as a lesson I have learned from experience

In the catacombs of my misery I revered the sweet stench of truth

To hold independence as a scythe, and hardwork as a buffer

To stay disappointments from putrid promises made by man

An ever dynamic fragment of reality, capable of showing hell and heaven in one heartbeat

And between these two realities, a negligible chasm of honesty

Which is paramount in life, for an honest man is God’s noblest handwork

Through the darkness and fear, the whispers of lingering shadows of regret

In myself I found hope, for I yet lived, though none too gloriously

I compared myself to no one for no two people have exactly the same capabilities

God is creative you know

I amassed a wealth of endurance in hardships and patience in tribulation

Revering the prize I was worth, of laughter, of life, of love.

Love

The cordage binding man to woman, woman to child, child to friend

Making foes of friends and friends of foes

I had loved and lost and loved again

With the my broken shards of misery I vowed never to let innocence make me vulnerable

For I know beasts crave the innocent, my unguarded heart, their victual

As the worldly man craves the gullible, her ignorance, his bludgeon

I learned never to betray my happiness in seeking unrequited love

For love solicits not just one’s happiness, but the welfare and contentment of the one loved

I vowed to give the love around for karma was now my companion

I knew my heart was gold and he who will earn the broken pieces

Must bear battle scars, the epitome of mine, in giving and in forgiving

I have come to discover the evil days

The days when I look in the mirror and am a stranger to myself

But my woes are well spent, for I know now, that I am a stranger to my past

For in finding these new virtues I found myself

I found the stubborn kindness in me and honed it with discipline and perseverance

For I know of wolves who take advantage of kindness, selfishness is their burden

But this couldn’t change me, only if the change wrought development

In this did I know that my fragile soul whispered at every phase

For angels that may never come, as they feared the darkness in my heart

Do not despair, this strangeness, for there is no strangeness without beauty.

My Little One, I have reproduced a refined me in you

That you may learn these and more at my feet as you will feed from my bosom

Beauty, wisdom, hardwork and the light of the mind

I picked the pieces of my heart and stood up straight

No longer afraid of the dark, no longer in shame

No longer loathe to exhibit the illuminative excellence of my mind

My mind is my beauty and beauty should be left unscarred

A scar is a memory and memories should last forever

I have loved and lost, I have built and have been broken

But despite all I come unscathed

I will love again, I will love anew

I will love. I will love you.

Your mother,
Ezinne Onyeka.

• • •

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