Love Me. Love My Scars.

I have five permanent tattoos. 😁 Appropriately put, 5 badges of honour. 

1. My badge of care, a scar right under my lower lip. At 8 years, as I stepped on the plank that served as walkway in front of our face me I fight you house, it gave way. I was heading backwards, being mindful that I had a baby (my youngest sibling) on my back, God in me catalysed a decision to fall forward. In falling forward, I hit my mouth on the edge of the gutter and a tooth went right through my lower lip with my blood splashing all over. Neighbours came to our rescue. I got no accolades but I wear my badge with gratitude.

2. My badge of hospitality, a fading scar on my arm. I was cooking for my siblings, I left the water for the amala (yam flour) on fire to BOIL WELL as I was instructed. When I removed the pot cover, the hot steam instantly peeled off my skin. I got no appreciation but I wear my badge with gratitude.

3. My badge of faith, a scar on my left big toe. I was seated at the owner's corner in a vehicle with my sister and her friend (my school daughter). God ministered to me that there would be an accident meant to take her life but if I swapped with her she would be spared. Interestingly she had begged me to swap earlier so she could chat with her friend but I said NO. It was a challenge to swap knowing the accident could not be averted. I later asked the driver to stop and I swapped. I became prayerfully pensive like a lamb being led to the slaughter. Soon, the accident happened. Despite medical treatment, the toe never healed, it became gangrene... I learned to dig into it periodically as part of self treatment until I did a surgery about 17 years later. I got no attention, but I wear my badge with gratitude.

4. My badge of grace, a scar running down from my navel. It reminds me that I survived grief and miscarriage that led to 1 surgery during which 83 tumours were removed, rigours, internal bleeding followed by another surgery, 10+ pints of blood (in a country where screening is not thorough) and 3 cycles of infection, with each potent enough to take my life. I got no awards but I wear my badge with gratitude...

5. My badge of strength, an invisible scar with visible feature; a knocked knee. I can speculate that it may have been from being forced to walk earlier than my mind was ready... I wondered recently if it was hereditary since Grandma Fatolu had exact condition... I was still a young child but I recollect vividly MAMI talking to a doctor in his office who said I needed corrective surgery. She was nice to him but back home she was vehement in her submission that “Omo mi o se surgery!” Thereafter, any attempt to stand anyhow got me the look or a light kick which promptly reformatted my brain, and I learned painstakingly to stand STRAIGHT. Soon, I forgot I had knocked knees and put in all the effort at Odogbolu to be admitted into Cadet then Man O’ War. I began to walk tall, climb trees and scale mountains! I rose to become the only Chief Training Officer in Nigeria who earned the NUMOWCHIN Award of Deputy Supreme Commander. Many years after, while teaching abroad, a child said to me, “Mrs O., why are you walking like that?” “Like how?” I asked, completely oblivious of his reference. He pointed at my legs as his friends tried to dissuade him from continuing the conversation. Then, he went on to mimic my walk. In that moment, which was a mix of teary appreciation for the sincerity in children and the foolhardiness of seeing a walk than my worth, I woke from years of repression. As I responded to him kindly, I owned this scar and stepped confidently into full healing that I am BEAUTIFUL and GRACED.

My GRATITUDE this 12.12.2020 is to GOD ALMIGHTY who saved and healed me again and again.

When you meet me, my scars may be the first thing you see or be hidden from your view... But they are part of who I was and who I am.

All women have scars, visible and invisible. If you meet a woman and want to denigrate her scars, you may just be denouncing her struggles.