Hometown Glory...

Round my hometown, memories are fresh
Round my hometown, the people I’ve met
Are the wonders of my world (2x)
Are the wonders of this world
-Adele, Hometown Glory.

I was listening to Adele’s Hometown Glory (I love Adele, she’s so talented), where she lauds her hometown. She seems to be so PROUD of her hometown and its people, and I can’t help but feel a little sad when I listen to it. It’s a wonderful song, and I love it, but it just serves to remind me of how much the case is the opposite for me. I hate my hometown (okay so maybe hate is too strong a word, so I guess I should say strongly dislike)!
For such a small place, such malice and hatred, and just general wickedness seem to come out of it in great amounts. Where do I even begin? Do I start with the men of my father’s family whose legacies are predominantly infidelity, drunkenness, and abuse? It seems sometimes that I get a daily report of some cousin or uncle or another committing one ‘abomination’ or the other. The men of my hometown in particular scare me, and this is why I’ve vowed I’ll never marry someone from that place.
All my aunts and women I know that are married to someone from that place all have the same complaints: they complain of the deep emotional abuse, the physical abuse sometimes, the way these men reduce their worth to nothingness. I’ve had one of these women tell me that her husband told her she’s nothing but a money and baby-making machine. Imagine that?! This woman is also beat by her husband AND his family, and she does all the work while he relaxes. My aunt just came back from a visit home after about 10 yrs in this country. Naturally, she stayed with her husband’s family, and the things she told me they said and did to her still bring tears to my eyes.
The women cannot be excluded from the wickedness pervading this town either. They delight in gossiping and bringing others down. The worst, however, are the ones who give you a huge smile then proceed to stick a knife in your back. I know how true this is coz I’ve watched and heard my mum be a victim for so many years. Some even go as far as going to native doctors for ‘medicine’ to ensure the death of any success in your life. All this wickedness in just a little town!
Don’t get me wrong, there are some things and people that make me love my hometown, but it just seems that we, especially the men of this town, are known for wickedness. Is it ironic then that we call ourselves “Umu nma?”* I hope that this new generation of people from my hometown can change, that one day I can proudly say that the people I’ve met here are the wonders of my world.

*Umu nma = beautiful children