There is always a palpable joy when a child is born. In African culture, joy is more if the baby is a boy. My son was well-formed, chubby, and energetic. I loved him and ensured he had the best of life. I ensured he never lacked anything. My motto was to “ensure he had a better life than I had” We named him Michael. Michael is an angel of God mentioned in the bible.
You see, I grew up in poverty. I walked to school barefooted and slept on an empty stomach.
During school breaks, I looked for manual work to sustain our family. I picked coffee and cultivated neighbors’ farms. I went to the nearest market to sell vegetables bought from distant farmlands. I had two parents and we lived in grinding poverty. My parents were hard-working but were limited by their circumstances. But against all odds, I went to school and excelled. I got a good job and a wonderful family, five children, two boys, and three girls. My husband worked hard for our family. He went abroad and would come back once I awhile. But he made sure we never lacked anything.
I was always there for my children. I never deserted them even once. The burden of raising them rested on me. I knew only too well and did all I could. I took my children to the best schools and always paid their fees in full. In the neighborhood, my family was the envy of everyone. They had everything they wanted. I did not pamper my children but I ensured they had all they needed.
I was now preparing for a slow life, children were grown and I was relaxed as I watched them in satisfaction as they continued to excel. Michael was In university. I had noted as he grew up he used to be a loner. He did not interact much with his younger siblings.
He was quiet and reserved. He did not entertain the thought of anyone entering his room. None of us would approach him. He had this permanent scrawl on his face that made us keep our distance. I talked to his father on phone. You see, he worked abroad but came home occasionally. He was slaving his days for all of us and we all understood this or so I thought. My husband would call my son and ask if he had a problem. He would assure him that all was well. The conversation would not last more than five minutes. My son always replied in single words- Yes, no, and no problem. I was not worried about this because he was a teenager. I knew from my teenage life that they did not want to hang out with their parents. He lived in his room isolated from the rest. When I entered his room, I would find it disorganized and untidy. I would order him to clean and arrange it. He would gloomily do it but I inspected and informed him that no one would clean after him.
When his father came he would take him out for a day. They would go to have a man to man talk. They were out for a whole day and my son insisted he was okay. There was advice on how to keep out of trouble, keep away from drugs, and substance abuse. I asked my husband about it when he returned. He said the boy did not say much but when pressured on the use of drugs, he vehemently denied that he was using anything illegal. My husband checked his room for a telltale sign but got nothing implicating. He checked his movies and books and found them in order. There were no sex tapes or nude magazines. He seemed okay and my husband said there was nothing to worry about. He would come around as he grew up but he did not. The distance between him and his family members continued to grow.
One day, he almost strangled his sister after finding her in his room. I was in the house when I heard an unnatural cry coming from his room. I rushed there and threw the door wide open. His hands were wrapped around her neck and he was squeezing and taking her life away.
“What the hell do you think you are doing? Do you want to kill your sister!” I screamed and he released her immediately. She was frail but alive. She coughed and rubbed her neck. She stood up unsteadily and I steadied her. What was that all about Emily, why does Michael want to kill you? Emily had tears in her eyes as she replied that she had entered the room to look for a book since Michael was not around.
Had I looked at my son keenly, I would have noted an evil glint and pleasure in his eyes. But I was livid and told him he was not allowed to lay his hands on any of his siblings for whatever reason. He stomped out of the house and was gone for hours. I told his father to talk to him and warn him that he risked going to jail for assaulting anyone in the house. For a few weeks, there was peace. But everyone stayed out of his way. His siblings were terrified of him after that incident. His father regularly talked to him but he felt frustrated because Michael always stonewalled him.
Michael had grown resentful of everyone. He did not talk much but when he did, it was to complain that nobody cared about him. I always asked him what he meant. How did he want us to show that we cared for him? He never gave me an answer so I will never know. We had discussed with my husband that we would keep money out of our children’s hands to protect them from engaging in drug abuse and other behaviors. Michael always complained bitterly about our stinginess. But we were not stingy, we were only protective.
My husband was home for his annual visit and the month would be good for the family. He would take time to talk to the children who were home after schools were closed due to Corona Virus. We looked forward to a family reunion and there were several activities lined up. Michael did not attend any. He stayed in his room sulking but we were not overly worried. He had made his choice and since he was an adult we let him be. My husband had tried to force him out of his room but the situation had become aggravated. From that day, we left him alone. Maybe in the hind set, we should not have left him alone. We would have told him to either be part of the family or just leave our home.
On the night he killed us, we had spent the day taking our children back to school. Emily and Nancy, our third-born daughter, were opening school. We were excited that the long holiday was over. After a long day, I looked forward to a relaxed evening when suddenly, the enemy within busted into the room and hit me on the head with a blunt object. He hunted everyone who was in the house and killed them. I will not give the details because you read them in the papers and saw them on all the television networks. One thing is sure though, I never in my wildest imagination saw this coming. I would have taken some measures to protect my family if I thought we were in any danger. I don’t know what went wrong in raising my son. But I know something went wrong. It is now too late but that is how I raised a monster. I don’t know what i could have done differently. Nor do I know how he turned into a monster. But I, my husband, my last born son and my nephew, we lie dead. As we await our interment, our two daughters are full of sadness and tears. They would be dead with us, had they been home on the day my son killed the rest of us. They carry the family name but i am sure they will always be sad.
STORY INSPIRED BY THE RECENT KILLING OF A FAMILY BY THEIR SON.