The ten-year generational curse that keeps haunting me

Not so long ago, following my separation, I mentioned that my life has a peculiar pattern. Bad things occur in my life with almost synchronised regularity. It is like a generational curse.

It took me some time to perceive, but I have observed, with grave concern, that after every eight to 10 years, things become thick for me. The very ground I’m standing on, which was all along as solid as a rock, turns to, in a flash, sinking sand. It then becomes a matter of fighting for my life and livelihood. No matter how I try, I will have to restart afresh. This has happened to me over and over again, as if it is etched in the stars with the devil’s gnarled middle finger! 

When you are a grownup with children, you dissect issues with a scalpel. I can see clearly that this isn’t just coincidence. These mishaps aren’t reoccurring just for the heck of it.

My Christian faith counsels me that I’m not dealing with flesh and blood, but with principalities and powers in the spiritual realm. I recently learnt that there’s something called the Jezebel spirit, which, if not banished through prayers, can wreak havoc over several generations.

I don’t want any comeuppance from me or my forbearers’ sins, by omission or commission, to appear in my children’s balance sheets. Sometimes we knowingly do things whose debts are paid forward, and heftily at that, by future generations.

I’m done mark-timing every 10 years. It’s nerve-wracking. This has got to end. Now. Nobody should ever have to pay for something they neither ordered nor devoured.

IT TAKES A VILLAGE

I recently had an epiphany while reading my autobiography, From Heartbreak to Daybreak. It confirmed this concern more than I can even explain. When growing up, before I knew what was happening, my family had disintegrated.

By the time I was eight, I was taking care of myself and my little brother in the village. It was tough. Our daily chores included fetching firewood and fetching water a distance away from home. Many nights, if there was no moonlight, I did my homework using the embers of firewood for light.

I did not even know that my parents had parted ways. Nobody wanted to burden themselves with us. I vowed to do my best and work hard in school so that I would not lead a life like the one I was witnessing. Somehow, I was able to make it with the help of my teachers. One Ms Catherine was godsend.

The kind-hearted teacher carried extra packed lunch because she knew that my sibling and I rarely had enough to eat.

Once, the area sub-Chief went as far as charging the neighbouring women with the task of checking on us.

They had to ensure that we had enough to eat, check on how we were doing in our studies, and generally check on our welfare. We were not latchkey kids, we were lost in a world and war that we knew absolutely nothing about.

I remember once, we went to school at 3am. We had mistaken the moonlight with morning light. The headmaster was deeply concerned, afraid of what would have happened had we come across a wild animal on the way to school. This is when we were put as an agenda for the community meeting.

RUDE AWAKENING

I was bright. I got very good grades. In my year, I was the top pupil in the division. I went to a good secondary school.

After I completed high school, my hopes were high, and I was happier than I had been in a long time, especially because my family was back together. My dad was planning to take me to the UK to study medicine.

He told me that after graduating, he wanted me to work in Germany, where he had contacts and connections.

Things were looking up. I was looking forward to saying goodbye to problems and poverty. I saw the hand of fortune around the corner.

What I did not know was that there was a rude awakening waiting for me around the corner, in the form of a ten-year slap which would dispatch me back to zero. I will tell you all about it next week.