Spare The Rod

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I watched her as father looked at her with that usual face he gave when we were doing something wrong. She nevertheless had that face of innocence, one that I knew infuriated father the most. He was however oblivious of the fact that she herself didn’t know why he was angry. Scowling at her, I didn’t know if he didn’t notice how the pastor was looking at her in that lustful way. Maybe father thought it was because she didn’t cover her hair and arms that the pastor was looking at her in that way. He considered her the source of the pastor’s sin after all. 

Sometimes I would wonder what went on in her mind at that period. It would be like Christ, trying to think of what he did wrong that they opted to crucify him. So also she would try to pin point what she did wrong that made father give her the angered look and make her know she should expect his heavy fists when we get home and how she would have wished that this cup pass over her when we get home and he flings his bible at her, following it with heavy blows. Mama didn’t even flinch, she was like him after all in thinking. Spare the rod and spoil the child was their favourite bible quote and they used it to assuage their convictions of physical abuse.

Why should it be only the source of sin that is blamed, what about the sinner? Why should the pastor go unpunished as my sister is beaten violently by papa? The pastor’s daughter and I usually came home from school together so I asked if I could accompany her to her house insisting I was pressed.  Maybe I am possessed as papa said the day I slashed the kitchen knife against his hand as he tried to hit me. I plunged my devils tool as papa also called it into her amidst her frantic pleas. Imagining how papa beat sister after the service that day and how her father’s smile will turn wry when he finds out his daughter is raped by the son of the father of the girl he is making advances towards.

Papa began to shake as he knew he would lose his position in the church ultimately leaving the church. I knew he did not care about the girl but the religious status with which the pastor had besotted on him. He had raised his hand to hit me before I told him that if he did, I would kill him and his wife too. I didn’t care if they birthed me. He knew I would do it so all he did was shake his head as mama looked at me expecting him to hit me.

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About Larniyi

A prolific writer.Schools at the University Of Lagos,hails from the Department Of English.I feel literature is spontaneous,Poetic.I'm very poetic.
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