basketball story

An Open Door (A True Story) by Omosun Sylvester
first published in silencespeaks magazine on Sun, 08/15/2004 - 21:14.

I sensed the basket behind me, I knew its angle, but I have no trick of passing by this three-man defense backing me off, they are always at their best when it was I with the ball because their pride is always in the way,…the time is tickling off I noted more so with the will to take the chance…something I always do, not without pain as I jumped twist-turn in the air, for the lay up.

Though I live beyond the sound barrier the shout when the ball went into the basket, it vivid power, the source of every silent scream was beyond that of dreams I hoped for.

I watch the spectator standing and applauding, most with hands on their head as if holding in their brain, looking at me. I can sense them because I was being drown to their train of thought…because they know who I am, they knew about the silence within, the way I got it from my mothers’ milk.

Because I am different…Whatever I do every step I take, every utterance of any volume could be analyzed critically-I liked such attention for my intentions.

It was different once…

When I was a kid with hearing impairment I hated the attention I got when into sporting competition. I spent most of my time just hating everything about being in the spotlight, and when am alone, I'd stand in front of the mirror, and look at myself…the face I knew, and compared it with what I imagined people saw. I'd see this distorted image, an exotic bird.

Coming to school everyday, knowing that I am different, I hated it. Each day people made it clear how I looked. They are curious about me, constantly looking into my eyes trying to engage me in conversation. Conscious of my difference they cannot help observing "The man who talks without hearing his own voice."

The attention was suffocating. I felt in some way false, a perfect fake of a form who thinks he is normal, I thought that I was being used as an instrument of every whim that was not my own. I had no ability to do anything about it.

It is not simply the attitude which saps the strength of the kid I was, but some human commodity was missing in my morality, that part of me that needed to socialize was lacking. Looking at them as they look at me, I'd say to myself they do not care how I feel being at the centre of attention. Because to the kid I was… they did not appear to care, more so because fellow students look at me at times as if they were looking out through a window, trying to assess the silence I was born with. It was made worse because I knew they were talking about me, even though they were not looking at me. I knew (like every other self absorbed kid at that age could put two and two together and come up with the result of eight.)

At times I tried to squelch my fear by telling myself that it was only words, but each time the silence worked on me. When I stand in front of the mirror I'd move my arms try to speak with the language of signs, and watch myself speak to myself without hearing my own voice, trying to see the man in the mirror with a third eye…the eye from the outside world, and try to see what they see

I hardly knew what they were thinking about me. Nor what they saw me as really, but I always thought it was negative. Because they seemed to be withdrawn, when my schoolmates speak, they always over do it at times.

I do not use sign language because I was not born with impaired hearing and read lips easily, but the language of sign fascinated the students. I felt that I was always being sectioned by a referee or by a policeman by the way they tried to speak with every division. It is a fact that people have always been fascinated by what they consider different.

There are times through history when people were fascinated enough to hang or burn those they considered different. I was convinced as you should expect in such a situation that no one outside my immediate family would ever accept me as a normal person or love me as such. I felt that no one liked me as a person in the school. As I grew I decided that in order to survive in what I saw as a cruel world I have to arm myself against repeated bruising. So I grew like a weed, arrogant stubborn, and decided that I had to weed my life of any thing that does not support my identity.

In the University it became an obsession and my drive, I was so good at being what I do that I became the player manager of the University basketball team,

Everything that motivated me in any competition was the result of constant rage…the poison that can only be exorcised by intense pain, a self-act of violence like the feel of my hand on the rim as the ball goes in. I wanted to prove a point in every game I took part in. I am normal and can do everything that everyone else can do.

I began by measuring my achievement, not against my personal capabilities, but against everyone else. I started dressing and acting in ways to fit in, but still underneath these facades I still have the feeling of inferiority.

But something happened to change all this…

In the beginning because there is simply an awareness that life is simply not working, that suffering has ceased to be interesting, and somehow you know that there should be something in your heart that will make sense out of what appears to be the senseless suffering. So we begin to seek. What is it we long for? We begin to ask, and question ourselves, what makes us suffer? After a time it becomes habit, a practice a way to see our world. As we talk to our soul and question it. What are we separate from that make us suffer and why? What are we missing? What have we lost? So we begin to look, to question ourselves

We move along unfamiliar roads, and embank on a journey within, toward the person we really are.

In the university I can remember asking myself once, “If we are not really what people say we are why are we trying to prove them wrong in the first place”. Isn't it better to be who you are and make the best use of it, haven’t we learned from experience, that what people considered different in me, accredited to me; probably because I am different, they never seem to miss any minute detail when ‘hearing impaired man does it”.

To tell people about the difference with or without words; in sports or any event people took notice by what I did. Not because of the silence within, but because I was different. The game I played was different, because I put a different approach to the game. The game as a whole was different because there was a different person taking part on the game, when I was there on the court, or the gymnasium, or the field, or the
classroom at my youthful age, in its way, my every gesture, my speech, my looks all went to emphasis my difference. All the reason for my identity was to make a point

On in my trial-I can recall a foreigner by the side line among a group of people known to me, during a game, as I stole a glance at him, I realized that he too was starring at me. In what seemed undisguised wonder, though his eyes were open and looking to my direction I knew instinctively that he was not seeing me, but was wondering about my life. (a presumed life I guessed was known to him through gossips).

I allowed my eyes to wander over him his eyes like manner wandered over me very slowly too, I can feel a grin opening my face until am unable to hold it anymore, it was good laughing at people's fantastic image of you when they wonder about what lies within.

The man approached me after the game introduced himself as a missionary and said that he liked the difference my presence made to the game, he asked me with a simple question. On what my purpose was in life, and how did I see myself filling that role.

He pointed out at the mast holding the basket, and said that its purpose was to hold the basket, net, board, and all the things above it. It was made solely for that purpose he pointed out. Other things he pointed out and their designated purpose in life, then asked if these things that are not living but has a purpose… are they more important than me as a person with purpose.

I replied NO!

Now what is your purpose, since you admit that things that are not as important as you have a purpose. Isn't it reasonable that you too have a designated purpose?

All my years in the university I had thought of asking myself that same question but I never did. In that silent moment right there in the court, few months before I graduated… it was as if the day was made for thinking of it. I could gladly have pushed each question to the back of my mind but the only thing I did was to look at him, eye seeing yet unseeing, in a silence so deep.

We are not born with the secret of discovering our differences in life, but we were given free will and reasoning to discover each hidden door. The secret lies in our heart, no one else holds it, but as long as we look to others to give us the key we will never discover our purpose.

We must realize that there is a kingdom within us and that no one needs to give us permission to explore, the only one to give us that permission is ourselves. Knowing that I had revealed myself, today I did the very opposite of deceiving myself, I wanted somehow to make manifest the man within me to the outside world. Better they should know me than interpret me by my deeds.

With the help of Dr Sola Fosudo the Director of Theatre art and Music at the University I was, I found a way to be one with myself for people to know that I am myself through arts, and poetry…i seek words that I am the truth of what someone special is.

At early twenties, while at the national service year, I became quite comfortable in the world were I see voices, I have nothing to hide. I have to live with myself, and because I wanted to be able to look at myself and like myself more, with what I do with myself every passing day, I do not need to hide anything. Nor try believing nobody else will know.

My life is written on my face. As I look at you I can never hide myself from me, or from those I live with. I hated trying to hide, and I knew that if my impairment is normal why hide it. Why? I do not know what direction my life currently treads, but in all things I wanted to be me. I wanted to make a difference in this life before mine is through. I
wanted to share the riches within me…that was a big step in my growth and I was barely twenty two years old at that time I made the decision

I had always had this near irresistible feeling since I was a kid to call out. To scream to the world, I am different not because of my hearing impairment. So that they all will come and take a look at me, to see the deepness within, and knew that my deed is my difference.

Admiration of individuals has always focused on their differences. Those who have high standards in all they do, exposing moral values which may make them stand out in a different groups. Knowing that I opened a lot of door to those in my school, and surroundings to help them recognize that it is important to make the effort to understand that others are different from them and there is strength in their being different.

I opened a lot of doors for people to see that whatever background you came from, what ever problem you have everybody can have an opportunity if they are willing to go that extra mile to fight their own battle. That is how I became the fans favorite alien when I was at school.

I have always dreamed of opening doors all my life. Now that I have the opportunity through my writings, poetry and working in a university… it does not get any better, does It.?