MUTE

My voice journey.

Have you ever been in a heated argument either with a family or friend and you just lost words and didn’t know how to say what you had to say so you lost the argument? 

Did you realize how pained you are when you got home and started talking to yourself and saying all the things you wanted to?

That pain is the entire pain that is to be exaggerated while reading this story.

I am going to tell you a story, my story.

Entering secondary school was one hell of a transition and even getting a very well-known girls boarding school that my mum has always wanted was an even better thing. 

My first day at that school was quite memorable, well every moment was but I’d say the first day because every single experience I had, starting from the first day, changed my life and my entire identity maybe. 

I was a 9 years old girl, with a zeal to explore, get to meet new people, and get to see new things. I was in an entirely different city from where I grew up so it serves. I believe the whole story took its turn by the second week of my school start.

I woke up on that fateful day, I felt a bit of a sore throat which wasn’t justified. My head felt so light and I honestly just wanted to go back to bed. I was new in Jss1 and it was a lot of strict restrictions with our schedule time especially while trying to readjust to the 5 am waking up.

I had my bath and then the hostel prefect called for me so I could explain why the person who was supposed to fetch her bathing water did not, since I was her bunkmate. I got to her with all the explanations I wanted to give in my head.

But then,

I couldn’t talk.

No matter how hard I wanted to make a sound, nothing was coming out. I couldn’t make any statement. The hostel prefect gave me the bucket and told me to go get her the water myself since I didn’t want to talk.

Throughout my way to get that water, I was trying to talk. I kept trying so hard, clenching my entire abdominal muscles and clearing my throat. The more I cleared, the sorer it felt but I wouldn’t stop clearing my throat. I got to the well and I just stood with no way to tell anyone to help. We were all new, I didn’t even know their names or faces.

I waited till everyone was done then I fetched and took it back. The hostel prefect got angry and was screaming at me for being late. At that moment was when I knew, it was going to be a tough journey. Well, I started crying, to be honest. 

What could I do?

I couldn’t even explain why I was late to her. 

This was the beginning of what I was for the next 7 years.

By afternoon that day, I got a sound, a very hoarse unpleasant sound but half bread is better than none. At least, I could communicate a bit or two with my hoarse rash-to-the-ears voice. 

We all had guardians in school. They were staff members that stood as our parents. I went all the way to my guardian to tell him what had happened to my voice and how it might affect me and the whole drama from the morning. Hearing me speak made him feel so pitiful. I was quite tiny and struggling to talk so much was a tussle.

He told me to go to his wife’s house which was in the school every morning and evening to get hot water so I could drink and bath with it. He said it was probably a cold. He gave me a cardigan and told me not to expose myself to cold. 

Lol.

Nothing changed.

I wouldn’t say it got worse because what is the worse it could be. I tried my best to communicate when I need to which was a lot futile. Every time I had to explain something, I just didn’t because it was exhausting to talk. But as kids, especially girls, a lot of drama would happen and you’ll need to explain yourself. I always gave up. Even when I was framed for theft. 

A whole lot worse was going on in the classroom. Teachers would ask questions and I would stand up and not talk. I was the dummy. Only my mathematics teacher knew different. Since she made me solve a math problem on the board and she figured I had a bad voice but I was smart. She got me a lot of “tomtom” sweet and told me it could help. 

At the end of the Jss1 examinations. The teachers wanted to know who was the Adetutu that scored so high in all of their subjects and I had a 93%. It was I, the dummy. That was the event that brought me not just closer to the teachers but my classmates too. 

And then, they wanted me to represent the school in competitions and all of that.

Before long, I wouldn’t say the whole school knew me because we were almost 2000 girls, but I got more popular. I would go to competitions with a partner. Solve the questions, write in on a paper for my partner and she would voice it out. 

I was voiceless.

During the holidays, the story was always different. Whenever my parents come to pick me and saw how I was talking, they would get a bit worried. They thought I was always shouting and playing too much. Their theory was quite justified because a day or two after I got home, I could talk. Not clearly or exactly how I use to talk but way better than what it was in school. This made my parents believe I was always shouting in school.

My classmates became supportive, especially in jss2 and jss3. They never allowed anyone to question me. They would already give the answers in my stead. Either a teacher or a senior. They were always ready to be my voice. Little wonder why I barely felt the effect of not having a voice. And it felt like they all developed hearing aids because they could hear me when I talk with my hoarse voice.

I remembered how our class teacher flogged all of us for an offense that I caused indirectly. Someone had pooped in my classroom locker and the entire class stunk. My classmates said nothing until he was done flogging us and then they explained to him what had happened on my behalf. Oh God, those girls were amazing.

On visiting days, my mum always expressed her worries. She wanted me to leave the school so bad. She hated how I sounded and even felt sad about how difficult things must be for me. Well, it wasn’t difficult again. I had friends who were always ready to talk on my behalf. I had made amazing friends and I didn’t want to switch schools.

My dad would tell me to let him know if anything happens and he was ready to drive down. My parents just wanted me to be comfortable and not being able to talk was not in any form comfortable. At the end of junior school. I had already mastered ways to communicate. I had a best friend and she would even advise me on how I could talk when I needed to talk. Sometimes she would fake having a bad voice too so I don’t feel bad that it was just me. 

I’m from Africa Nigeria. A Yoruba family to be precise. Yoruba uncles and aunties have treatments for everything. Trust my mother’s friends to prescribe everything they know.

“I went from drinking raw egg to eating the bark of a tree to drinking water from a new bell to gagging with water and oil to eating bitter kola every time to drinking water from a calabash that was placed outside overnight to gagging with vinegar to drinking water and grounded louver to eating a cow’s brain to drinking water and grounded tiles.”

The tiles water was the ultimate for my dad when he said my mum should not follow any more “let her use” advice.

He said he would take me to the hospital himself and have them check me properly, which he did. 

I finally went in to see a doctor in my ss1 third term. The doctor referred me to an otolaryngologist, this is an Ear, Nose, and Throat(ENT) specialist. I did my first set of checkups that left my jaw aching for days. My throat was checked and the doctor said it was probably just a bacterial infection and prescribed me drugs.

Did the drugs work?

No, it did not.

As soon as I got back to school for ss2, I had my hoarse voice back. I would use the drugs as prescribed and avoid talking as the doctor said but all was null. I gave up on these drugs and continued surviving as I used to. 

Why chew on antibiotics and keep shut when it had no effects?

The holidays came and I saw another otolaryngologist. This doctor was a bit older than the first and I could tell he has had a lot of experience and seen cases like mine a lot. He was quick to know it was an allergy. He said since I could talk when I’m at home, that should help me know that it was environment-based. He said he wouldn’t deceive me and write me drugs but he would give me pain relievers and lozenges for any pain or sore throat that would come with it.

Allergies are common non-infectious processes that can result in hoarseness. The secretions produced in common allergies can drip into the throat (post-nasal drip) irritating the throat and vocal cords. Allergies can also cause swelling of the vocal cords resulting in hoarseness. 

What was I allergic to??

I didn’t know.

But I was hopeful that I had just a year left and whatever it was has just a year left before I would get my voice back.

It’s easy to describe my experience while writing this piece but you could imagine 5 years of not being able to talk properly. Being ostracized from things just because you had no voice. I couldn’t even represent my school in competitions I fit in for because I could not talk. Sometimes they would take me as an extra so I don’t feel bad.

It was a bumpy ride. It was like I got used to not being able to talk. As someone that was very talkative, it was pretty difficult. I was always wanting to say funny things and gist with my friends. I learned how to tell my friends all the gist within the first two days of resumption before I go “dumb” again. Or maybe they just learned how to understand me while talking with my hoarse voice.

All of these are still sweet experiences compared to insults that came with not being able to talk. Or even when you hear people talking about you right to your face. Like, yeah I’m dumb, but I’m not deaf. I can hear your tittle-tattle about me. People would easily describe me as “that girl that can’t talk properly”. At first, it weighed me down but as I started to grow, I realized I couldn’t control what people said, but I could control my reaction to it.

After I left the school, with the belief that I would get my voice back after few weeks of not being there, the blague became more obvious when months later, I still sounded husky like a boy post-pubertal. I constantly complained to my parents which led us back to the otolaryngologist.

He suggested a surgery which my parents like most other parents would disagree with. My mum cast and bonded every spirit of voice disorder and vocal surgery.

I did a laryngoscopy exam which showed I had a partial vocal cord paralysis due to prolonged collapse and forceful use of my vocal cords. It means my vocal cords wouldn’t function as they should if it wasn’t operated on. My parents wanted the best for me so we started scheduling the surgery which got delayed because I had to resume the university. 

University wasn’t as difficult as high school but I hated the fact that some people constantly referred to my voice as “you sound like a guy”. I wasn’t moved by it at some point any longer. And as long as I sounded much better, even though it was still hoarse than before. I didn’t care.

I did everything I did in fear. I could talk quite a bit and I was always worried about what would happen if I lost “this voice” I have again and I’m unable to communicate. On the contrary, it never happened. My husky voice never got hoarse.

I was able to get the surgery after my first year in university. It was a short outpatient laser surgery because even till now, I couldn’t tell if anything happened or not. It felt like I slept for a few minutes and I woke up at home with a bit of sore throat and jaw ache and I was not allowed to talk or clear my throat for a day or two. Then I had to feed on liquids, pap, and custard for a week and after which everything started going back to normal.

I had about two weeks of speech therapy and two sessions of voice usage admonition. After which I started sounding differently. The first few weeks, my mum wasn’t used to my new voice. Sometimes she would say “who’s that?” Before realizing it was me. And that I could talk properly now. 

My insecurities now and then with my voice led to me telling this story. Anyone who knows me now might wonder why I’m insecure since I sound perfectly normal. 

My “Insecure” behavior such as speaking less or not speaking at all in my first meetings, or shying away from conversations, in those circumstances, is not the expression of a sensitive psyche.

It is both a response to the vituperation-filled comments I have heard people pass about my voice over the years and a way of fitting in, or, more precisely, of acquiescing to the status of the misfit.

Thank you so much for reading this piece. I took my time to cut out a lot of things so it isn’t too voluminous but I could not help it. 

Yours,

Adetutu.