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Severe case of mental illness, dementia, mutiple personality disorder, did these things have a name in africa before the 90s?
what were they called in the rural parts?
We will tell you about Dorcas. Dorcas was a privileged young woman, born in the 90s to a very rich man. She didn't have a special position in her household though, she was not an only child, not the first child, neither was she the last. She was not the the first daughter and she had younger sisters. She was not very beautiful, she was just, well... Dorcas.
Dorcas's father like other rich men in his time had a large household, more than four wives and well over thirty children besides nieces and nephews that lived in. Dorcas was a willful child, willful but slow, academically slow. She found it hard to understand what teachers taught at school. The teachers made efforts to give her special attention as befit her status, but they soon gave up. Roland's mother that lived down the street, the one her husbands farm always yielded poor harvest, the one who her poor parents sold all they owned to fund her studies, the one who fed her family and lied her husband was the breadwinner, the one who wore old dresses and worn shoes even to the school where she taught dorcas and other students. That one. She likened Dorcas's head to a rock. In her words "even if you split dorcas head and shove a book in she still won't understand it".
Her mother was livid when those words got to her, she beat dorcas, angrily. "You are wasting away, how many girls do you think their fathers send to school, your step sister brought an excellent result home the last time. Uou should see her mother gloat" Her mother screamed and punched her on the back. It hurt so much the spot felt almost numb. "She gloats and prides herself about, mother of intelligent children, she is emboldened, even after stealing my husband, your father". Dorcas's mother said. She was crying by this time but it didn't blind her to finding an object, she found a hewn rope, meant for the barn, she used it. "You embolden her, with your daftness and unintelligence. You and your stupid brothers".
Dorcas went out that evening, bruised and battered and found her sister playing on the verandah, the intelligent one, the beautiful one, their father's pet child. She was playing in the sand. Alone. Dorcas approached her, said biting words and they fought, dorcas all the while searching for objects to use. She couldn't find any so she concentrated on using her fingers. They groped each other as they fought dirty. Her sister's face was soft to touch, she moved her fingers to her cheeks and dragged, deeply. The cheeks split open, blood trickled reluctantly down the gashes. There! She is not so beautiful now, is she. Dorcas was four.
She didn't stay long in school, she could learn nothing still. She could not stay in one home for long either, her own father's house, her uncle's house, her sister's and even boyfriends. Her anger could not be sated either, everyone was jealous of her, everyone, nobody loved her so she why should she love them!
Her sister's friend invited her to church. Everyone believed her problem was spiritual. It had to be, she was always spoiling for a fight and she only felt victorious if she drew blood. The church service was at an end and everyone had to take holy Communion. "Did you hear what the pastor said?" Her sister asked leaning in close. Dorcas made no reply but listened. "He said if you have not confessed or are an unrepentant sinner you shouldn't come for communion". Her sister stated. Dorcas felt something spark in her head. She stood up from her seat and walked up to the front of the church. She joined those lined up for the communion. She was the fifth in line. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth as she had seen the others do when it was her turn. The next she remembered she was running, running and running. She was certain she knew where was was headed but somehow she couldn't remember, she didn't stop though. She quickened her steps instead, she could feel people hard on her heels, pursuing her. She couldn't let them get to her, she didn't want anyone's dirty hands on her, they were running faster now, closing the gap between them. And then she saw it, the river, they had passed it on their way here. She jumped in. It was deep, but her pursuers dived right in after her, a speed boat was approaching them, it was coming on fast, her pursers held her, she fought them, struggled. The boat stopped, the engine rearing, the men were fighting to put her on the boat, she struggled till her leg hit the exhaust pipe and she passed out.
After the incident she went back home, to her father's house, everyone kept their distance, even her mother's children. They walked on eggshells around her and when they talked to her, they enunciated the words slowly, their voice barely above a whisper as if she were a child or an idiot. That irritated her even more.
She stood up one night and went to the kitchen for water. As she drank, she noticed that a lamp burned across the courtyard, in one of the rooms. The light drew her, till she found herself standing by the window. It was her sister's room. The beautiful one. She pushed the door. It creaked open noislessly and she walked in. She watched her sister sleep for a while, her beautiful long hair splayed on the pillow. She sunk her hand in and gathered some hair in her fist and pulled. Her sister jerked awake. They fought, and as usual she searched for objects with her eyes. Somehow she found a small knife, she was grinning now. She slashed and her sister dodged and she cut her arm. Her sister was screaming by this time, she went in and slashed her face, her beautiful face.The old wound had healed but this cut was deeper, she danced back, laughing hysterically, she closed in again and aimed for the belly this time but she felt something heavy hit her head from the back and she fell.
A few months later dorcas was found hanging by the neck off a tree in one of her father's farm. Dead. She was a troubled child everyone agreed, a troubled, marine possessed child.
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