My life in half a century E-Book

Adelaïde Dide

• Herausgeber: Le Lys Bleu Éditions
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 173

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

"My Life Over Half a Century" traces the journey of a courageous woman who faces life’s most intense and varied trials. After the tragic loss of her sister, Adelaïde Dide fights tirelessly to find peace amidst the storms of existence, confronting sexism, jealousy, and betrayal. From Benin to Paris, her path – marked by unexpected twists – is a moving testament to faith and resilience. A singular story that offers hope to those seeking light in the shadows. For Adelaïde Dide, this book is a step toward healing. She believes that each line was inspired by the Eternal, the Master of the universe. Through these pages, she delivers a powerful message: to place every hardship, at every moment, into God's hands.

Leseprobe

Adélaïde Dide

My life in half a century

© Lys Bleu Éditions – Adélaïde Dide

ISBN : 979-10-422-7761-1

Le code de la propriété intellectuelle n’autorisant aux termes des paragraphes 2 et 3 de l’article L.122-5, d’une part, que les copies ou reproductions strictement réservées à l’usage privé du copiste et non destinées à une utilisation collective et, d’autre part, sous réserve du nom de l’auteur et de la source, que les analyses et les courtes citations justifiées par le caractère critique, polémique, pédagogique, scientifique ou d’information, toute représentation ou reproduction intégrale ou partielle, faite sans le consentement de l’auteur ou de ses ayants droit ou ayants cause, est illicite (article L.122-4). Cette représentation ou reproduction, par quelque procédé que ce soit, constituerait donc une contrefaçon sanctionnée par les articles L.335-2 et suivants du Code de la propriété intellectuelle.

Suddenly, I say:

— Please, Valentine, I would like to speak to you; either to you or to Christine.

— What do you want to talk to me about, Adelaide?

— About me, about who I really am I will see and I will tell you, as what I wanted to say was not work related, the next day I said to Valentine.

— I would not like to talk to you during my work time.

I will check with Christine and keep you informed.

Valentine and Christine are the checkout managers at the Leclerc hypermarket where I currently work as a checkout hostess. If the idea of talking to them spontaneously came into my head, it is because the behavior of some of my work colleagues has changed towards me, in particular that of Annie. Annie was more than a colleague. For me, she was a friend who helped and supported me a lot when I needed it.

For about ten years, I have had strange sensations in my body. They tire me and bother me a lot.

I end work at 9:15 p.m. And at that time there is no bus to take me back. I had to walk about 40 minutes to get home. So, it was Annie who took me back. Even sometimes, when she got out early, she still waits for me to take me back home. That touched me a lot. And to please her, I asked her what she would like me to bring her back from my trip to Benin at the end of the year.

— I really like African outfits, she replied.

So, I promised to bring her some back.

To make the outfits her size, I asked her to give me one of her t-shirts so that the designer could have a size reference. We agreed that when I returned to France, she would come home with her partner to eat a Beninese dish.

When I returned to France on January 31, 2022, I was not able to return to work because of health concerns. I was admitted directly to the emergency room and hospitalized.

Annie and I were texting each other and she was telling me she would come home once I got home. I was released from the hospital on February 22, 2022, and on March 10, I was supposed to start chemotherapy sessions.

After the first chemotherapy session, Annie no longer responded to my messages. On March 19, I decided to text her this:

Hello, Annie, hope you are well and your parents too. I’m still surprised that you haven’t come to see me yet. Give me your news.

Finally, she texted back:

— I’m very tired; I’m working a lot of overtime. I’m not available at the moment, so I’m leaving work and going home to sleep.

Her answer intrigued me a lot. This is not the Annie I knew. On March 22, 2022, my son took me to go shopping and I took the opportunity to give some gifts to some of my colleagues. Annie wasn’t there; She had already finished his work. So, on Saturday, March 23, I left him this message: “Hello Annie, I went to Leclerc yesterday to deliver gifts to those concerned, and you had already finished work. I hope you are well, and so is your family. You can come to pick up your outfits”.

On Monday, March 30, Annie replied: “Good evening, I wanted just to tell you that I did not appreciate the authoritarian tone of your messages as well as the fact that you called the central cash register to say that I had not responded to your messages. I’m not going to come to your house. Like everyone else, I have my own worries; whether financial or family. I think it is better to stop there. We can be good colleagues, but no more. It’s up to you to find the energy within yourself to regain morale and be positive even in the most serious situations circumstances.”

I was never authoritarian as she claimed. If I had called the central cash register, it was because I was worried about her. I thought maybe she was sick or something had happened to her mother since she had some health issues. It was just out of love for her that I called the cash register central to hear from her.

After Her last message, I was sad, very sad. I wanted to understand her attitude, but she didn’t want to explain herself. So, on July 14, 2022, I sent her another message: “Hello Annie, a little hello to hear from you. I hope that You are fine and so are your parents. I had surgery a third time on June 11 and was hospitalized for a month. You can move on to home to collect the pretty outfits that you so deserve. The weather is amazing today, you could wear them.” But I got no response.

On October 4, 2022, when I returned to work, I brought her back the outfits, and I told Annie:

— Annie, if I could finish the year 2021 to have My entire thirteenth-month salary be thanks to you. I was able to please my family. So, the outfits I made for you deserved them. Please take them.

Then I added

— If you wear them and they’re big or small for you, the lady who does my alterations can make them to your size. She won’t charge me much.

— Okay, she replied.

She took the bag I handed her and didn’t thank me. From then on, when we had the opportunity to meet, I asked if she had tried on the outfits and if they were going. She answered me:

— No, I don’t have time.

Two months later, I said:

— Annie, it looks like you don’t want to wear the clothes I bought you. If so, then bring them back; they will make someone else happy.

— OK, she replied.

Seven days later, she returned the bag of clothes. She hadn’t even taken the time to look at what was inside the bag.

This behavior change made me think a lot and made me ask myself questions.

I finally realized that Annie shared the same last name as Monique, the cashier at the Super U store where I had previously worked. Was it Monique who had smeared me again in connection with Annie? When I asked Annie if she knew Monique, she said no. However, the way she responded left no doubt.

Annie’s behavior, to say the least, made me feel sad.

I also noticed that some customers going through the checkout lines made the same gestures while paying.

They scratch the front of their nose with their right index finger, and they wipe away tears when they are not crying; they scratch behind their ear; some cough before typing in their card code; some sniff; others gesture at the checkout counter or the trolley when I speak or when I meet their gaze some sniff as they put their items on the conveyor belt. People who meet me on the bus or on the road suddenly start coughing. When I pass by or in front of certain people, they lift the soles of their feet slightly and put them back down. Some start shaking their legs. Many people say “hello” to me or try to talk to me. When I answer, they immediately put their fingers on their nose or start scratching it. I feel like there is a mark on me that makes people recognize me. I see people following my steps and immediately starting to smoke their cigarettes: I have the feeling that the ashes of their cigarettes are falling on my body. Some people wait for me at the bottom of the building where I live or around my work, holding a bottle of water in their hand, and when i pass in front of them or next to them, they start to drink. One day, a man holding a black trash bag in his hand, filled with who knows what, ran towards me. As soon as he passed, he stopped running and started walking normally. When I check certain items like cold meats, cheese, bread, alcohol, paper towels, or toilet paper, some customers put one foot forward. If I pick up another item of that kind, they shift their other foot forward, and so on. One day, when I took a carton of eggs from a customer whose items I was scanning, the man behind me immediately inserted the index finger of his right hand in his rear. Some people rub the bottom of their lips when they hand me something. Some parents go so far as to ask their children to do things like wipe their faces, scratch in and behind their ears when they go through the checkout, and even cough when they pay. Seeing all this, I asked myself this:

— Am I the worst person on this earth that everyone rejects me and turns against me?

The hardest part is going under the bridge. I hear a noise like someone hitting a hammer on concrete, and at night, I feel like all the sand that was used to make the bridge is falling on me.

I reserve the right to tell what happens around my apartment when I’m at home.

Maybe these gestures and behaviors have nothing to do with what I feel in my body. But I’m rarely wrong.

If my imagination is wrong, then I apologize to all the people who say hello to me and to whom I don’t respond; who talk to me and to whom I do not answer either, especially my colleagues at work for fear that they will send dirt into my body.

But if my sixth sense is right, and all these gestures have a connection with what I feel in my body, I would like to tell all these people who rebel against me that there is a God for the innocent and the weak. His name is: The Eternal, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, our ancestors.

After much thought, I told myself that if our cashiers listened to all those who had problems, they would have to have big heads.

Valentine did not follow up on my request.

Reflecting on what had pushed me to suddenly ask to speak to Valentine, I then understood that the Eternal wants me to tell the whole world about my suffering, my struggle... and above all, to testify to the graces he has granted me to this day.

Our grandparents told us that our dad was a gift from God.

My grandparents were from Hozin, a small village in the Ouémé department of Benin.

My grandparents’ parents did not know Jesus; they worshiped Vodou. Vodou is an earthly deity. It is represented either in terracotta or in wood. There is the vodoun that does good and the vodoun that does harm.

But I had not thought to ask my grandparents who their parents worshiped. What interested me at the time was their own lives.

After their union, my grandparents lost five infants. All of them died one after the other. When my dad was born, very early, he was ill. My grandparents immediately thought that he was going to die, too. They had taken him to the hospital in the city of Porto-Novo, also located in the department of Ouémé. Once at the hospital, the doctor ordered that the child take neither breast milk nor his bottle. He had to be fed only by IV.

My grandmother was forced to express breast milk and throw it away each time. My dad had, therefore, remained on IV for seven days. He cried with hunger. It was very hard for my grandmother. But on the eighth day, he took the bottle and breast milk.

At the hospital, our grandparents had heard about Jesus. When they were released, they decided to go and meet this wonderful Jesus. That is how they left their village, Hozin, and their parents to settle in Cotonou, the economic capital of Benin, located in the Littoral department.

At first, they were hosted by an acquaintance and friend.

A few months later, my grandfather was hired by the “Port Autonome de Cotonou”. My father fully recovered his health.

In their quest for Jesus, my grandparents joined forces with other people of good will to build a small church where people came to listen to the holy word.

They then had two daughters and another son. Until their deaths, they remained united, which was very rare at the time in Benin, Polygamy was in full swing.

My maternal grandparents already knew Jesus. They lived in a small village called Gomé, in the Collines department. They were Catholic and very practicing. They loved each other very much. They had my mother and another boy who was called Edouard. My grandmother could no longer conceive.

When he reached CM2, Edouard died suddenly. My grandfather’s family pushed him to take another wife to conceive other children. The reason was well-founded because the family lived only from agriculture, and to cultivate the fields, they needed work force. Despite his good will to remain faithful to my grandmother, my grandfather was forced to have children with another woman. From this one, they had three girls and two boys.

Just after the CEP (Certificate of Primary Studies), mom fell ill. She could no longer continue her studies. A few years later, she received the vocation and wanted to become a nun.

Dad, who had become a teacher, had come to teach in the village Gomé. When they met, it was love at first sight, but their union at the time was impossible because Dad was a Methodist Protestant. At the time, the union between a Catholic and Protestant was not approved. But their love was stronger. They did get together anyway.

Dad was posted to another village and became a school principal. He took Mom with him despite my grandparents’ reservations about their union. But to Mom’s great surprise, Dad had a wife with whom he had two children. Mom gave birth to a daughter, called Lynn. He had told Mom that this woman had been imposed on him by her parents and that they were no longer on good terms. But they still lived in the same compound.

In the house next to their compound lived a family whose mother was pregnant and at term. One day, Dad heard the woman’s moans. Having rushed to the house, he found that the woman was about to give birth. The father of the family was insensitive to the pain his wife was feeling, so dad decided to take the woman to the hospital in his own car. The woman gave birth to a boy. A few weeks later, Dad’s three children were bitten by a dog. They all fell ill.

A village elder made a revelation to Dad, telling him that his assistance to the pregnant woman had triggered the wrath of the witches and that in retaliation, they would have decided to take his three children; for them, they brought their food to their mouths, and Dad snatched their food.

So, thinking he was doing good, Dad found himself facing the world of witchcraft.

It was only when Lynn began to bark like a dog that Dad realized the dog had rabies.

At the time, the anti-rabies vaccine was not available in hospitals; it had to be ordered, and by the time it came to Benin, Lynn died, as well as the eldest child of Dad’s first wife. The third child was rescued in the nick of time. In the space of two weeks, Dad lost two children. It was a tough blow for him, and it made him lose the desire to teach. Seeing his suffering and to help him forget this tragedy, the government assigned him to the Ministry of Education in the administrative capital, where he took care of the files of scholarship holders.

So affected by the death of his children, Dad left the village to settle in the city of Cotonou.

Mom gave birth to Alfred, then two years later to the twins Maxime and Marcel.

After the twins were born, Dad passed a competition to do a two-year internship in France. Mom, with Dad’s agreement, started typing lessons. And when she went out to her classes, the first woman sent letters to Dad to tell him that she was cheating on him. Mom told us that one night, while she was sleeping, a man entered her room while the doors were closed and tried to rape her. This man was the cousin of Dad’s first wife.

Mom, with the little savings she had, sent food products that Dad liked to eat by Air Freight hoping that it would please him. But when she received the rare letters from Dad, he did not thank her; he told her that all he wanted was her faithfulness to their love. And Mom replied that she would never betray him, not knowing that the first wife was telling lies about her.

When Dad came back to Benin, he started mistreating Mom by calling her an adulterous woman. Over the years, as Dad despised Mom more and more, and our grandparents decided to take the two women to the village to clarify the situation. The two women then had to appear before the court of the family elders. The family elders chose the day the women had to appear, and that day coincided with the day Mom was due to have her period. In reality, it is a tradition that our ancestors established to dissuade women from committing adultery. This tradition has existed for centuries. But in the tradition, the woman in her period was not supposed to approach the place of the ceremony. When speaking of her concern to her mother-in-law, the latter said to my mother: “My daughter, I know that you are innocent of everything that people say about you, If you talk about the day of your period, they will think that you have really committed adultery and that you are looking for reasons not to go before the wise men. Do not say anything and let the glory of the Lord be manifested in your life.” Mom was very worried and sad because she said, since the return of menstruation after the birth of the twins, she had never had a late or early period and that she got out of bed on the exact date in the morning with her period.