I KNOW WHY THE CAGED BIRD DO NOT SING

I am a caged bird and I cannot sing

I try to imagine a whole lot around me and my vivid imagination does not help matters at all. I see my imagination as clearly as the next person sneezing beside me.

So I woke up today with the title Maya Angelou's book rolling through my lips, it was like I kept caressing it "I know why the caged bird sings". Then I had caressed it up to a point where it started loosing meaning for me until meant something different, until it meant the exact opposite.

Maya talked about liberty and freedom and expression even in a caged environment but I could think of silence and quiet and bottled expression in the midst of supposed freedom.

Do you ever imagine why victims of abuse rarely speak out or why a person who looks like she is enjoying life commits suicide or a rape victim insisting she is fine or a boy being bullied will deny the incidence of bullying.

I know why.

Most times its like I am trying to scream on the top of my voice about the hurts and pains and trauma I am going through but no one ever hears me. Why? I am quiet but somehow in the quiet its like I am expecting people to see that I am really not fine.

But trust me, it usually doesn't start that way most times the victims have actually tried speaking, talking, expressing but the world shuts them down. Its like, "deal with it and be an adult!" Or "everyone's got issues too" or " stop being an attention seeker" or "shame on you! You are tainted". And the million other things the society consciously or subconsciously screams at people that try to talk.

Depression in Africa is not funny because it is viewed as a western thing simply not applicable in Africa. They feel the people if the west have it to easy and that's why they even have the time to be depressed. So no one will listen to you and you know it before you even try to speak so why bother?

We are caged by the society and traditions and people's impressions so much that we cannot even voice out when we are about to breathe our last because they have choked us.

Somehow I think like Maya, I have found a voice in writing, I might not be singing yet but I think I have started whistling, I have stopped caring about what every other person would say in so far as I can survive yet another day.

So I know why the caged birds do not sing.

I am a caged bird and I cannot sing.

I cannot sing but I can whistle.

Onashile Peace (tolarnee)

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