Nk’iru Njokua Nigerian Movie Producer, Director and Writer, has took it to her official facebook account to address the issue with her daughter autism, people pointing to churches and herbs that can heal her.
Please Read To The End.
Young man in my inbox with details of the church service that will heal Didi, if I tell you that in spite of her being blind and non-verbal autistic she is a daily miracle will you believe me?
If I tear you dettyslapp?
See, I’m not you o. I’m not ANY OF YOU who keep on doing this madness of bringing miracle mongering into my inbox. I already live a miraculous life that I’m grateful for. I don’t need the things you think I need in order to be happy. Didi does not need the things you think she needs in order to live a fulfilling life.
She has NO EYE BALLS.
None of your pastors can create any.
They fucking lie to you and you swallow that shit and frankly I have ceased making that any of my business.
Continue to be idiots exchanging your brains and money for poetic lies. But stay the fuck away from me. Stay the fuckitty fuck away from me.
DIDI is MY CHILD. The one that this life gave me the privilege to bear. Yes she has no eyeballs and is totally BLIND. Yes we discovered autism a few years ago and it broke our hearts that she had yet another challenge to grapple with. Yes she’s non-verbal and communicates differently than is the norm to you and most of society. And this is HER reality. OUR reality as her parents too.
No, SHE IS NOT a defective factory product that requires your analyses and spiritual tut-tutting.
Her blindness is the default that we met upon becoming her parents. SHE WAS BORN WITHOUT EYES se! And we normalized this since she was born. You will not catch me or her dad pausing to cry over her. For goodness sake it’s been 8 years!
No, we are not pretending.
No we are not even displaying uncommon strength.
No, I am not a super mum. I am JUST A MOTHER.
A mother mothers their child whether the child has legs or hands or eyes or not.
I didn’t need to ‘whip up’ love for her – this one is for those of you who still after so many years cannot help coming inbox to say “thank you for loving Didi”.
If I no love my pikin abeg na who I go love? Inukwanum esisi?
I use this opportunity to say “mba ooooooo, there’s nothing like “ah you’re trying o, I don’t think I could have been as strong as you”.”
That is nonsense.
If you would throw your child away or be unable to love them because they have a congenital disability, omo you’re on your own o. Leave me out of that comparison. I no follow you do biko. And I’m not even here to encourage you ‘should in case’. We can do that one another day. Today I’m simply saying to you – abeg get out.
Again, I’m not strong. I’m just a mum who adores her child, loves her to bits, and is in awe that one gets to be a part of her ‘becoming’.
What this ‘becoming’ will amount to, we don’t know. But we hope for the best. Much like you who have children who aren’t blind or autistic do.
Abi you don’t hope for the best for your kids? Because they haven’t got any disabilities then life don hundred percent sure for them? Nor dey talk lie please.
Again, for those at the back who went to church today and are itching to come and advertise miracles to me:
Didi is complete as she is o. She doesn’t need to ‘receive healing’ to be whole.
BEING BLIND AND AUTISTIC IS NOT THE WORST THING TO EVER HAPPEN IN THIS LIFE.
Being the parents of a blind and autistic child is not the living-in-a-state-of-constant-and-very-deep-despair situation that you think it is.
If you know our family life you will probably hate yourself for all the time you have spent not minding your business re: this matter of miracles.
I and Didi’s dad haven’t been brought to our knees by anopthalmia and autism.
We do not need you to project YOUR FRELINGS OF INADEQUACY on us.
You’re the one who would feel hard done by if you had a blind child. Not me.
You’re the one who needs ‘perfection’ to feel okay with life, not me.
You’re the one who is super dissatisfied and ungrateful about your life, not me.
You’re the one who would cuss your god if your child were born without eyes, not me.
You’re the one who comes to social media to pretend that you’re happy when you’re not, all the while stewing on the inside, bemoaning your fate and wishing your life would truly be perfect, not me.
You’re the one who needs the miracle of being motherfucking satisfied with your own damn life, son. Not me.
So keep your fear to yourself.
You young man in my inbox, and the rest of you who think you can come and be cute about your stupidity, talmbout “it really pains me when I think of Didi and I know God can work through my pastor”. Fuck off, boys and girls.
In my home anopthalmia is not a demon. Neither is autism. They are WAYS OF BEING. Our child was born WITHOUT EYES, so she is not missing anything.
The autism is SUPER challenging, and like it does very once in a while it has kicked our butts so bad these past two weeks. But it is not a demon.
Speaking of this recent butt kicking. Kai it’s been bad, so bad.
Didi went back to scratching her face and being super clingy.
Yesterday I brought out the plasters again. They helped us a few years ago to stop her from scratchig her face and we think they’ll help us this time.
I also dedicated much of yesterday to reminding her of her independence. Of how she owned her space at home and didn’t need to cleave to anyone to feel comfortable. Of how she would go to her toy box, sit there, and enjoy life with her music and her noisy plastic revolving singing toy that looks like a carousel. That thing is a complete nuisance by the way but I digress.
The actual ‘lesson’ was two long hours of –
– Listening to Didi wail when I refused to have her sit for long in my embrace.
– Watching her roll around on the floor in FURY whilst I kept her safe with cushions
– Watching her try to scratch herself but failing woefully because the gloves I put on her ensured she couldn’t create new wounds.
She opened up some scabbed ones sha and little trickles of blood greeted her efforts, but this was before the plasters arrived and I decorated her cheeks and forehead with them, concealing most of the tiny wounds she’d inflicted herself with over the past few weeks.
There are a lot of those wounds. Tiny and sore and not nice to look at. And she did this damage with blunt fingernails o.
Man, it’s been rough.
But she won the battle yesterday. I want to say ‘she and I’ but frankly I was only her helper.
She remembered her independence, that one!
She sat by herself for a long time.
She listened to her music on her own.
She even remembered how she no dey like make person sing song wey dey play from her speaker. She vexed gan everytime I hummed to Olamide’s Falila Ketan which was on repeat for much of the evening.
She won, yo. But that was day 1. We continued today with the reminders and she’s had a pretty independent day already. I’ve had stern talks with her nanny and also spoken to my mum about not cuddling an almost 8 year old so often.
One day I’ll talk to those who want to hear, about how to TRULY support a family where there’s an autistic child. I’ll probably do a video or something, we’ll see.
So yeah. This isn’t our first rodeo.
We don see this phase before.
We kicked its butt, and we’ll do it again as the need arises.
And maybe sometime up the road autism will kick our butts again you know?
But we’ll kick it back and keep kicking, helping our kiddo live the best life possible within the context of her unique humanity.
You still think Didi needs your pastor’s miracle I bet.
You are baffled. You think, “but Mama Didi, autism can be healed in my church, Didi doesn’t need to go through this”.
And so I raise you common sense.
Why are you literally pleading with me to come to your church?
Do you not see how this is a reflection of YOUR OWN FEARS?
Why are you so bothered about whether my daughter is blind and autistic or not?
You that you’re not blind are you going to be on earth forever?
Will you use your eyes to stare down the Grim Reaper abi iru palapala wo leleyi?
Leave us o, ehen. Leave us alone.
The miracle Didi and children like her need is for you lot to have a change of mind and realize that disability is not a demon.
And A DISABLED CHILD IS NOT THE CARRIER OF FOUL SPIRITS.
Maybe one day you will grow up enough to become champions of policies that will ensure dignity and ease of life for the disabled population of Nigeria. Maybe.
But for today, repent from this miracle mongering brethren.
Go back to your pastor and collect your brain from him before he will use the thing to cook soup.
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