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Volume No. 1 Issue No. 49 - Friday October 03, 2003
Fear and Imagination
by Aicha N'diaye


I sat in class thinking, what does he want me to say? What does he want me to write about? Does he want me to be punished by God and be eternally stuck in that deep, dark, hot, far away place that I have been afraid of all of my life?

Was I supposed to hypocritically talk about my rights as a member of the integrated world? I have already done so many wrong things in my life, was I supposed to add questioning the existence of God to the list?

My life is filled with fear. Was he not able to see that everything I had to say in that paper was filled with trying to please whomever is in that sky that I have wanted to go to all my life? Was he not able to see that I am afraid to be left at the mercy of those horrible spirits who have haunted me and taunted me all of my life, the ones who prevent me from sleeping at nights?

The things that force me to wake up in the middle of the night with their breath in my ears as if to tell me that it is time to play. Did he not realize that I am plagued with questions about God and about the Bible - the very questions that brought me to his class?

Was he not able to detect that I am still afraid to ask those questions for fear that my only refuge from the undead souls who turn the lights on and off in my home in France and hang over my window in Morocco, would abandon me? The same undead souls who hide under the bed and around the corner from the bathroom in Dominica?

My life is dictated by my never-ending fear. My questions are lost in my own forbidden soul for I am not allowed to ask them. Were I not plagued by my fear of these spirits who forced my mom in my early existence to wake up in the mornings, stand in the middle of the yard and yell, �Leave my child alone� then I would be able to ask, �Does God really answer prayer?�

I fear that my imagination of what spirituality is somehow goes way beyond questioning the existence of God. My image of spirituality made me believe that the black and blue scars that had simply appeared on my legs and arms in the morning resulted from the attacks of undead souls.

They were also a result of the living people who had abandoned their bodies throughout the night and had sucked out my good blood leaving me scarred and scared. This is why she comforted me by yelling out to them, that they should leave me alone because I was all she had.

I wanted to sound like an intellectual. I did not want my worries to show and he was right, it takes trust to express that part of yourself that no one knows. Not only trust of that person that you are sharing your most outrageous fears with, but trust that you yourself are not forsaking the power that you believe has kept you safe for all these years.

Why should I expose my fear of the super natural? Most people do not believe its existence anyway. In addition, God might think me unworthy. Romans 8:5 says, �For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit.�

I have always been taught that should I embrace faith in God and the Holy Spirit, I would have the power to live in a totally different way. I would firmly believe that God is always by my side and that no harm would ever come to me. Therefore, to expose my fear of life and even worse, my fear of death would be to expose my lack of faith in the ultimate power of God as described in so many scriptures in the Bible.

My refuge has been nothing but the words of the church and the Bible. I had nothing else to empower me. Whether or not it was literature written by the Eloist, the Jahuist, the Priestly and the Deutoronomist, it provided me with a certain comfort because it was learned. It was what I was told would save me by giving me a pure soul. I have never given myself the authority to question the mysticism that surrounded me. I just needed to believe.

If I could write an autobiography telling that I was a premature baby who had mouth to mouth resuscitation that might have been acceptable, even to me! Only in my case it sounds just as demented as I now feel, a twenty-nine year-old woman who gets palpitations of the heart as soon as all the lights go out.

It is as shameful as each day that I think of night, I hate having to go through another day. I often doubt my faith in God, yet, I have to believe that I have some faith in the promises of the Bible. What else, rather, who else would I have to call on in the middle of those dreadful nights, where I stay awake with all the lights on, wondering when the strong stenches would disappear.

Why am I always the only one smelling them? I need to believe Psalms 46:1-3, �God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we should not fear though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult.� That is not to say that I do not truly believe in the existence of God but it is my fear that has made me who I am and what I am making myself. It is that dread of the unknown that prevents me from rebuking Satan.

To Be Continued Next Issue


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Volume No. 1 Issue No. 49
Fear and Imagination
First Caribbean Diaspora Empowerment Conference
Laundry Facilities for PMH
More of an Organic Nation
What About the Aerial Tram?




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