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FROM THE MIND OF THE BLEEDING WOMAN

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It’s another month, November. Time for my monthly records. I pick up my pen to record in my diary on how my life has been or should I say how my life has always been and still is, in the past month.

Unfortunately, I have nothing new to write. It’s basically the same old story with, just different landmarks.

Like in January 2002, when they began to lead me out of the house to seek help.

Or in December 2003 when a spot was found for me somewhere in town as though a shopping center or something *rolls eyes

Or in 2005, when the city gave me a new name

Or July 2007 when my family joined in calling me the name, Basil being the first

Tears begin to form at the ridge of my eyes and I angrily wipe it away.
I inhale and stare at my diary. Then I start writing…

On Ist Jan this year, just as I have done for the past eleven years, I purchased 24 cartons of the new or should I say, old best friend of my undies.


Pretty much, the same cycle has repeated from then till now. Still going around looking for help and healing. Same promises, same failures, same experiments, same disappointments. Still bleeding.

Up till now, everything remains as it was on that fateful night 12 years ago or worse.

*then I end with my closing statement*
Shall I bleed forever?

Suddenly, I feel an urge to reply in the positive in a long time, I want to fight it off but it comes on like a strong force again; no, I shall not.

I quickly close my diary before I change my mind and cancel the reply. Feeling energized and strangely encouraged, I bath and change my undies for the 20th time. I decide to step outside for some air, then I see the 'messiah' passing with a large crowd.

I’ve been hearing of this new prophet in town. People say He is the messiah prophesied years ago and I have been hearing of the miracles He has been performing.

If He is who they say He is and He has actually performed those miracles, then I need not do much, I thought. He must be exuding power. If only, I could get to touch His cloth, then the power will heal me! And He happens to be passing through!

Feeling a burst of energy, I start pushing through the crowd. The crowd is so thick and I am being pushed around but hope kept growing somewhere within me. Maybe this is it! Maybe He is the messiah! Maybe He can miracles! Maybe He could Heal me! If there’s a maybe at all, I have to try.
I finally come behind him and quietly touch the healm of His cloth. It felt like a ripple effect of lightening. It shot through my body and I felt the bleeding stop!

Oh my! I gasped clasping my mouth to prevent myself from screaming. Just like that? It's gone?! Its gone! Tears dropped and after what seemed like many seconds, I decide to retreat before I get caught, that was when the question came.

“Who touched me?!” I pause in my tracks. Some who sounded like his aides tried to tell him off that people have been touching him. When it seemed like He wasn’t backing down, I came forward and narrated the events of my life to Him. Rather than punish, He prayed for me. The messiah saved me then prayed for me!

And my story changed. Ist of November 2012, after having made my monthly documentary, my story changed. With tears falling on my cheeks and shouts of joy erupting within me, I started running home to make a new entry.

Love
       Kamby 

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'Emeka is that you?' I asked expecting otherwise

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