No, phonophobia cannot completely describe my fear of loud sounds, especially the local cannon shots in Africa that are usually fired during burial events. Whenever I sense that such a thing is about to be shot, I usually run away from home to the extent that my parents would start searching for me and almost declare me kidnapped. It is said that I reincarnated someone who shot cannon shots tirelessly in his lifetime, that's why I have the fear. You know, sometimes reincarnation works the opposite way.
This fear followed me even to the level of firecrackers, which we usually call bangers because they bang so loudly. Although the fear has reduced significantly, there are certain things you cannot see me do with crackers or in the presence of firecrackers.
Back in the days when I was attending a particular church that looked more like a gathering of gangsters in the community, every 31st December night, the crossover night into the new year, everyone in the community loved to attend the church for the crossover service because it was usually like a carnival, especially with the shooting of bangers. I remember precisely one of those crossover nights when I objected to the idea of following my mum and siblings to church due to my fear of bangers. When my mum got to know about my idea, she made sure she delivered a sermon that could make one look like a devil.
“You want the new year to meet you at home instead of church? Do you know what that means? Do you think that people who do not go to church on crossover night do that with their clear eyes? It is usually the devil that makes them sit at home and welcome the new year at home or in the beer parlour.”
The sermon humbled me badly, and I dressed up and followed them to church. When it was around 11 p.m., I knew the scary time was getting closer, and deep fear gripped me even more. The thought of how the bangers would be hitting my ears was just too much. The worst part was that my mum and some of my siblings did not fear firecrackers at all. They would be walking right inside the “gbos” and “gbas” of the sounds, even matching some with their legs. Meanwhile, my mum would hold my hand tightly to stop me from running off, or maybe she was trying to help me beat the fear the way someone undergoes soldier orientation.
That night, I could not withstand what was coming. I took an excuse from my mum that I wanted to use the toilet, and that was how I ran off to our far-away home before 12 a.m., when bangers would be flying everywhere as if the world was about to end.
Around 2 a.m. that same night, my mum got home in anger and beat the hell out of me. They had thought I was kidnapped in the crowd, and it almost drove her crazy before she eventually got home and met me safely at home.
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