MOSHOOD (MOSH)'s friends
posted on Saturday, February 10, 2007 04:30 PM
I used the word ‘Ma’ because you don’t deserve to be called Mommy or Mother any longer. I am now in a beautiful garden they call Heaven, reclining on someone’s arm and sitting on His lap. The person could be Jesus or Mohammed or any supreme being in accordance to your creed. He cares for me, he adores and loves me and cries with me anytime I open my mouth to cry; for my heart has been broken twice over -- when I inhabited your womb and after my demise.
I so longed to be your little baby boy that would be sucking your breast for the milk of compassion. I’ve warned you before through my poem entitled A Foetus’s Lament. Let me remind you of some pulsating lines in the poem:
Before my soul shuffles off her womb
Let me speak to my mum.
Before she goes in a box to her tomb
Let me tell her of my woe.
I’ve been in pain
With no foetal gain.
Whenever she inhales the smoke
I shrink and breathe in grief
Mother! Cease smoking
For me to heave a sigh of relief.
I don't quite understand what has happened. I was so excited when I began to realize my being. Each time I sneezed, I knew it was your smoke. Each time you kept mute for so long, I knew your smoke would follow. I was in a dark, comfortable place but you made it uncomfortable after all. Whenever the atmosphere was clear, I could see I had fingers and toes and there was this cord that connected us together. At this stage, I had already known my sex. I was pretty far in my developing, yet not near ready to leave my room, your womb.
I spent most of my leisure time thinking or sleeping. Sometimes when I tried to move about, I could hear you cry or sigh. I never lacked food. Your smoke started killing me slowly. Sometimes I heard you screaming and I screamed with you, not knowing that most times, you screamed to have a stick of cigarette. Sometimes, you would laugh and then cry. I heard Daddy yelling at you. Perhaps, he did not like your smoking habit. I was sad, and hoped you would change from the bad habit of smoking.
Each time you smoked, you polluted the oxygen and this always affected the oxy-heamoglobin. At that tender stage, I knew cough, cold and catarrh – the three terrible Cs of smoking. I wondered why a sane person would put flame in his or her mouth and start to puff. One day you cried almost all day because you didn’t have money to buy a stick of cigarette, too bad. I couldn't imagine why you were so sad because of lack of cigarette. When you finally stole money from Daddy’s pocket while he was away, you smoked all day, all night. The following week, the most horrible thing happened to me. I could no longer breathe. It was like someone blocked my mouth and nose with a pillow. Everywhere became uncomfortable. I lost my strength when I was trying to scream. A thick cloud of smoke had taken over the whole place. I closed my eyes and I found myself in this man’s lap. I was told one guardian angel brought me to Him. Then I suddenly began to scream “Mommy, Mommy, your smoke has destroyed my room, your womb”. The man asked me to stop calling you Mommy. He said if you don’t quit smoking, you would join us very soon, though not in our garden, because the monster called ‘LUNGS CANCER’ would soon visit you and you would waste Daddy’s money on hospital bill.
When I was dying, something told me I would never see your face or hear you say how much you love me. I wanted to dry your tears with my good luck. But you wouldn’t stop smoking. The man I’m currently sitting on his lap told me that a substance called NICOTINE has hooked you and that there are more than forty-five carcinogenic substances in that leaf he called Tobacco. He explained that carcinogenic substances cause cancers.
I had so many plans to make you happy. Now I couldn't; all my dreams were shattered and evaporated into the air. Though I was in pain, anguish and horror, I felt the pain of my heart breaking, breaking and breaking above all. I longed more than anything to be your beautiful and obedient son. No need now, nothing again to worry about for I’m currently in a beautiful garden, a garden that I cannot explain, a garden where everything is magical, complete with finesse. The man also told me that my predicament should be seen as a blessing and that I would have become miserable if I had made it to your planet –earth. He said you and the rest would eventually hate me because I would weigh less than 2.5 kg with rashes all over my body.
I can only imagine the terrible things that smoking will do to you now and forever more. I didn’t know anything; it was this man that told me everything. He taught me the warning poem I chanted in my former room, your womb. I still remember some lines if only you would listen:
My mum should hearken
To a foetal groan, a foetal fear
Now in her womb
I’m six moons old.
I’m getting old
With retarded growth.
Any smoking cloud
Makes me cry aloud
I see dark patches
On her kidneys and lungs.
She smokes in batches
Polluting oxygen for long.
The man later said that when you die, you would not join us, you would go to the other place he called HELL. I asked Him why? He said you would be treated as someone who committed suicide. Ma, quit smoking now! This man loves you and we are praying for you to quit. I don’t want any baby to go through this pain again. Please stop it for your own sake and for the sake of others. Heed this warning because they don’t lie here.
Accept my congratulations in advance as you labour to deliver a stillborn baby.
Your Unborn Baby Boy