7 Years Ago He Raped Me And Ran Away, Now He Is Back And Wants My Son- Part 2

By the time my step mother came back, I was totally unconscious. I spent the next 2 months in the hospital treating not just my tears but terrible STD infections, he was sexually active, a part of his life nobody else knew about.

I missed my exams; I missed a whole year to say the least. I was confirmed pregnant and my father refused me getting an abortion. Francis absconded without a trace. The police in Aba put out a search warrant on him but it did not yield any results.

I left Aba and came down to Lagos to meet my father. I went back to school but this time around was allowed to be in Arts. My grandmother took care of Samuel for me while I started building the blocks of my life back.

I got into LASU to study Law and was done 2 years ago. I served in Kano State but refused to stay over in the north because of my son. I wanted to be a part of his upbringing too and be able to explain why he does not have a daddy in his life just like other kids in school.

I started working in a law firm in Ikoyi, and been a rockie, I was tasked with doing most of the paper fillings in court so I was always on the move. It was on such official errands, this time around to Ibadan, that I ran into the devil himself; Francis!

We had stopped to eat with the driver, using the official car meant it had our logo by the side. I was not in the mood to eat heavy so I was just on the table eating my meat pie while Deji, the driver was busy attacking his semo and egusi soup.

He walked up to our table and stood some few yards away from me, Deji enquired; “Oga wetin you dey find?” it was at that point I looked up and saw the bastard in flesh and blood. I could still remember his looks vividly; the looks of a beast that took away my innocence and almost destroyed my life.

For a minute I froze completely and just stared at him, lost in my thoughts. Anger from the deepest part of me was brewing up so quickly. He knelt down, at the full glare of everyone in the room. I could hear some idiots say “say yes, say yes”, apparently they thought he was about to propose to the love of his life. Nonsense!

He busted out crying, crying profusely while I just sat there not knowing how exactly to hurt him. I wish I had a gun, the table knife from the cutlery set didn’t look sharp enough to me that can slight his throat.

I had goose pimples all over my body; I was shaking not for fear but for rage. I just wanted to hurt him so badly the same way he did me but I was caught off guards. If I knew I would ever see him again, I would come prepared. 

“Madam, do you know this man? Why is he kneeling and crying now? madam don’t mind all these lagosians o, they can pretend for Africa, he just wants to beg for money ni ma”.

Deji lets go, and for you, turning and looking at him still kneeling on the floor, i don’t ever want to see you again. The next time I see you I will kill you and I mean it. I brushed him aside and hurriedly dashed off to the car. Deji came in behind me shortly and entered the car.

Francis also followed and was knocking on my side of the windshield, beckoning on me to wind down but I refused. He was crying so hard but I was not ready to listen to anything he had to say. All through the trip back to Lagos, the events of that day, 7 years ago kept flooding my mind. I thought I had healed completely from his actions but my wounds were fresh and bleeding afresh.

The next 2 weeks were terrible. My productivity levels dropped tremendously, my boss called me into her office and said; “you obviously appear to have so much going on in your head, I will not pressure you to share but I can allow you take some time off to get your acts together. Is that okay?” I nodded in affirmation.

I was shocked when Deji called me 3 days to say “madam, that yeye man we saw that day for Ibadan came to look for you in the office this morning”. But I didn’t give him my address, how did he know the place? Oh my, he must have read the inscription on the car that day. No!

By the time I resumed back, he had made several visits to the office. And on such unplanned visits, he was ushered in by my boss who wanted to know why he had been a constant face in the reception hall.

According to her, he confessed all that he did. He is now ready to face the law and be punished for all he did to me. He is the pastor of a church on the Island and dos not mind leaving all that behind. He is begging for my forgiveness and wants to know when I will be ready to charge him to court.

All he asks is to meet his baby, before he goes to prison. He knows he was once a rapist but now he has turned a new leaf but will gladly serve his time in prison.

What should I do? Deny my son the opportunity to know his father, make him realize his father is a rapist and live with that burden or shame for the rest of his life?

What should I do?

   

7 Years Ago He Raped Me And Ran Away, Now He Is Back And Wants My Son- Part 1

I wasn’t doing too well in school, well, the truth is, I never liked sciences but my parents wanted me to be a medical doctor hence I had to take science subjects which were not really my forte.

My dream has always been to wear the wig as a lawyer and appear in court to defend people and cases, all that dream has long disappeared. It has been 3 years of struggle since I started my senior secondary education in Owerri.

If only my mother hadn’t died from that breast cancer that tragically took her life, I would have still remained in Aba with her, but now am in Owerri with my step-mother who does not really believe children have a say in what to do with their lives. 

I cant say she disliked me but giving me an opportunity to chose, the same way my mother would have allowed me was a far distant cry. So I ended being a good and obedient daughter and followed her wishes. But my grades were not encouraging, not at all.

As the final exams approached, she decided to get me a private lesson tutor. I initially liked the idea since it will afford me the perfect excuse to leave the house to the extra moral lesson center with my friends since most of them were already attending same.

But my excitement was quickly dispelled when I realized I was to have a one on one personal tutor, worse is, he will be coming to the house every evening to take my classes. This means, I get to stay at home longer now and face the house chores too squarely. 

The first week was hell. The guy was so boring with his teaching and the fact that I had to attend to my step sister in between the classes just made it worse for me. By the second week, our interaction had improved and I realized he wasn’t that bad after all.

2 months passed by quickly, Francis was now an integral part of my day. From school, I will hurry back home to clean the house and every other instruction my step mum had dropped for me. All this was so I have enough time with Francis, lesson or no lesson.

He was the choir master and youth leader in the church and also an engineering student at the state polytechnic. I felt safe around him. You should have seen the way he prays when we about to start a class, he was spirit filled, or so I thought.

I normally don’t have classes on Sundays but my exams were starting in a weeks time, we needed to do a revision of all we have been doing and hence the extra day was added. It was also meeting day, so my step mother had to leave for the town hall. It was just Francis and I in the house. I had no reasons to be scared because of how well he had been behaving himself.

I remember I was 18, my feminine features were well pronounced. I had a size C cup bra and a waist size of 34. Not bad for an 18 year old girl. I also just finished my menstrual circle for the month; my breasts were bloated and extra sensitive at that particular period.

When Francis came, I realized he was gazing more at my chest than he usually does. I went in and added an extra sweater just to wade off any silly ideas. On my return, he asked; “are you feeling feverish?” To which I responded in the negative.

1 hour into the lesson, he requested for water as usual. I stood up to go get it and I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, scanning my backside in the skirt I wore. I was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable because he normally does not pay attention to me or my body parts before now. 

Little did I know he had something planned for me, as I bent down to fetch water from the water dispenser in the dinning section, little did I know he had tip toed behind me and grabbed me from behind. 

Jesus I screamed, what are you doing? Please I beg you leave me alone please. All my pleas fell on deaf ears. He lifted me up and brought me to the sitting room, I was struggling to break free his hold but he was way stronger than me, he slammed me on the 3 seater couch, I hit my head on the arm railing at the edge of the leather seat. The pain was sharp and instant, I felt it right through my bones.

With that, I lost my coordination as I reached for my head, I could feel my hands slightly soaked with my own blood. My head, my head, he looked up to see what had happened to my head and dismissed it with a wave of hand. I could hear him say from afar “If only you had not struggled with me, you won’t have this cut on your head, but it’s not deep”.

He tore through my clothes, while I battled with not losing total consciousness. He went ahead and violated me. I was too weak to shout but still, he covered my mouth with his big sweaty palms. The taste of his salty palms in my mouth was awful, I puked the moment he removed them. I can’t recall exactly how long it took but the pains all over my body suggested he was at it for a while.

By the time he stood up, I was motionless and barely gasping for my breath. He quickly wore his shirt and zipped up his pants. “I am very sorry, it’s the devil that took over me, please forgive me”, and with that said he turned and left me.

To be continued

The Beauty Of An Incomplete Picture

 

The Beauty Of An Incomplete Picture!

So I have a brother Joel Alasan  who is a fantastic artist and I sometimes have the privilege to catch him just when he’s about to start a painting, most times my curiosity leads me to ask questions of what he wants to do and I realize no matter how hard he tries, I don’t really get the full picture of what he wants to do. 

I just see sketches and lines and and and you know what I mean right? But he on the other hand knows what exactly he wants to bring out and even though it doesn’t look like it at first, he stays there for hours, days even months till that perfect resemblance of what he has internally becomes manifested on paper, on canvass or whatever medium he chose for it. Then, we all can come back and say “what a master piece this is”

Point is, he didn’t give up on what he saw until it became what he has produced, in-between that period is a process that involves time, skill, patience and faith that it can be done!

Joseph had a dream that his brothers will bow before him, what he didn’t see was all the troubles that will come along with it, even time to be spent in prison, maybe if he had seen it at the beginning, he would have ran somewhere else and aborted the dream prematurely. 

Maybe if the children of Israel knew about the 40 years to be spent in the wilderness, they would never had left Egypt. Before you shout arrh, do you have an idea what a wilderness is? The wild in the wilderness stands for wild animals o, pitch black with no mosquito nets, some of us become so irritated when there is power outage so imagine what they had to go through for 40 years! 

There is a beauty that comes with not having a complete picture at the beginning and that is the whole essence of FAITH and BELIEVE! The incomplete picture provides a form of safety so we don’t get intimidated and chicken out of fear.

You obviously won’t look like it at, seeds don’t look like trees but inside of them is a full tree with branches, leaves and fruits!

I don’t know what you’re looking at right now, some obviously very far away from what has been written concerning you, but I have got good news; for as long as you have faith and believe in the one who has spoken concerning you and over you, the process is not over, you’re on your way to perfection! If yours is taking “too long” by human judgement, remember it takes a longer time to make pounded yam and egusi compared to indomie. So relax, the expected end is coming.

God didn’t forget you, God hasn’t forgotten about you, God cannot forget about you and I. The picture of your life hasn’t finished unveiling yet. Be calming down my brother, my sister.

You’re such a special human and don’t let the ugly process with it’s twists and turns make you feel otherwise.

Have a blessed week ahead. God loves you!

P.S You can visit his page and art gallery to see amazing art pieces. Tell him you want a discount because it’s from me. 

😊

Life: Through The Lens Of A Child

We used to free, playing on the streets,kicking empty cans all the way to school and back.

We were free to visit the stream,coming back home with eyes so red you can’t deny where you’ve been ( you really didn’t need to anyway)

We used to be free to eat,drink in the neighbours friends house coming back home with big round tommies and shirts stained with oil due to the struggle for meat.

It was actually allowed to remove our sandals and walk bare feet, swinging them in rhythm of songs learnt from the village square last night.

Parents yes, but the society was the standard model and watch dog. Kids getting spanked by total strangers when due and still complimented for not sparing the rod when the news filtered back home.

Teachers were idolized as mini gods due to the importance society placed on them- a noble profession with “rewards in heaven”. Life for us as kids was super fun.

We built castles with mud,using our legs as designs. Creativity and natural instincts buzzing in our heads.

The girls quickly learnt singing and clapping while gathered around in circles,cooking with empty cans and pawpaw leaves while the boys,armed with catapults,ventured beyond the boundary of the stream in search of that elusive old wise tortoise grandpa always talked about so they could be as wise as him. 

They actually did venture because the fear of evil men to kidnap them wasn’t a part of the society. But all that faded away.

We now grow up in houses with fences so tall they reach out to the moon, our freedom the society wickedly took from us. The society you adults have created. We now live with the monsters you created.

We play yes, but with toys and TV game consoles more than with the kids next door, oh yes, we see them just as they leave for school that's all in dark tinted windows.

We eat yes, but from cans and packs,beautifully sealed nylon wraps picked from the kitchen shelf cos mummy has to beat the traffic at 5:30am, and yet we dare not eat or dine even with our best friend in school because we don’t know the source of the water in their houses. 

We feed on 2 minute meals, microwaved meals from last week and meals from the delivery man more than from mummy's kitchen.

The closest I have been with my cousins is looking at their pictures on Facebook( the ones I know or heard of ) cos they all bad people who do not like us. 

While I struggle to make a sentence with my own mother tongue,teachers trying so hard to make me speak and sound like the half baked humans I see on DSTV, they say I will be accepted easily when I sound like them, why can’t I sound like you mum? If you don’t like the way you sound who else will?

Boys growing up on their own filled with Internet curriculum and modelling their lives to the edited content of celebrities on E channel because Daddy is busy meeting deadlines and targets set by the corporate world, a vicious circle that keeps him away like forever but to which he says pays the bills and allows me the luxuries I enjoy.

 Luxuries? Seriously? You mean being caged as soon as school ends is now luxury? That used to be when the fun was just about to start.

And so I get to spend so much of my developmental time with nannies sorry I mean uncles and aunties who are too busy on social media to notice me and when they do, explore my purity and violate my innocence , setting me on a dangerous path.

Cooking is now an odd ugly task meant for the chef while I dwell on the society short cuts: 2 minute noodles and coco pops. The joy of splashing and goofing around in the stream washing clothes now long as I only toss them into the washer and wait for that cling sound to signify it's done. 

You might argue that they have made life easier but also, it has taken away an essential part of learning and altered the natural balance of life teachings as we grow up. 

We now juggle between British and American curriculum expressed as Montessori for the elite while the poor languish in so called public schools at the mercy of unpaid teachers struggling to find motivation but surrounded by frustration hence the then noble profession now a shadow of itself.

Education should never be categorized based on it either being private or public; opportunities in life aren’t! No kid was born to come face this societal divide, we innocent.

In case you adults have not noticed; our innocence is a different kind of beautiful that most of you only dream about.

When next you sit on the decision making alters and tables,remember we have the right to be protected and provided for but most importantly we have the right to be free, free from the mental walls and societal barriers you adults have created.

3 Days To My Wedding..

“Its either you are the new Virgin Mary or you lied abou t your virginity status in your form, because your pregnancy test result is here and it shows you are seven (7) weeks pregnant!. So which is it? Be rest assured that even your fathers status as Senior Pastor cannot make this panel bend the rules for you. Am afraid but you will have to call off the wedding”.

Those words from the church marriage committee this morning is still echoing in my ears long after I left their presence. Hours later, as I sat on the hotel couch, throw-pillow half soaked with hot tears in my hand, looking hopelessly at the mirror trying to see what part of my life I could salvage from the destructive chain of events that had quickly kicked in since my meeting with the panel ended and I walked shamefully out of the church premises hurriedly into the waiting Uber taxi.

“Back to Wuse II where I picked you or to another location? Ma? The very kind driver obviously noticed there was something wrong with me. I was quite the bubbly bride-to-be chit chatting away about how plans were on top gear for my wedding three days away with so much joy and excitement in my voice that literally was contagious and then now am ice-cold trying so hard not to sob so loudly. He could read the handwriting on the wall that the meeting didn’t go as planned.

“No, just take me to any hotel outside of the city centre, I need some time to myself” I stuttered. Now alone, in an undisclosed location, far away from family and friends but my problems proved I could only run but not hide from them.

Zoned out completely, gazing into nothing specifically, my attention was reawakened rudely by the sound of Wiz Kids “Fever” song; a ringtone customized for Jason my fiancée. As my gaze shifted away from the mirror to the phone, more tears flowed from my eyes easily with reckless abandone.

I buried my face once again into the helpless pillow and broke down completely. My heart was too heavy and I screamed and shouted out in agony. My hands were shaking and shivering, I couldn’t feel my legs and my body temperature was sky high. I fell back on the sofa and just wished I could disappear. 

My whole world was crashing down on me barely seventy-two (72) hours to arguably one of the most important days of my life just because of a test result am sure isn’t mine!.

How can I be pregnant? Sex was never an item between Jason and I. When we met in London two years ago during our first semester exams to earn a Masters degree in Financial Analytics, we both agreed till our wedding night. It was easy for both of us to resolve that easily due to the similarities we had in our up-bringing. We even joked sometimes as to who had the meanest experience and bombardment from mothers about sex and the dangers of engaging in pre-marital sex. 

He, like me, grew up in a church environment hence our principles seamlessly had the same direction. How the pregnancy test came out positive still beats me. I was too shocked to even respond and the panel felt my silence was consent!.

Bad news spreads faster than good they say. Within an hour the meeting ended, I have rejected calls from far and near. The constant beeping of messages and chats dropping in my phone were more like a competition. I knew they all wanted to hear what I did not have the answer to; ARE YOU TRULY PREGNANT?

With that, I passed out. Am sure hours passed by. From the depths of my sleep, I saw faint images of a hotel waitress tapping my shoulders. I could see Jason shoving her away and picking me up in his arms. The remaining images were too blurry for me to recollect fully. But I did not wake up, fully.

By the time I did, the environment was quite different from the hotel room I remember checking in to. I could still hear sounds, a constant beeping but not like the notifications from my phone. Even though I was weak and still fuzzy but I realized I was not alone. My head ached so badly and I was feeling feverish. Minutes later, my view became a bit clearer. I could identify Jason from his athletic body frame standing by my bed side talking to my father but I couldn’t hear what they were saying though.

That in itself was punishment for me; were they discussing how disappointed they were in me for bringing shame unto the family? So many permutations ran through my mind. Then it hit me, how did they find me in the first place? Who told them where I was? Am sure they are so angry with me.

Just then, a lady in white uniform came in and asked them to step outside, I realized I was in a hospital. She did her routines and confirmations. I shut my eyes firmly so she will not know I was awake. It did not work, as she leaned over to me and whispered “aunty, I know you are awake but I will not tell them. ‘Just rest for now”.

How I yearned to ask her if she knew what they were discussing outside, but if I did, my temporary cover will be blown and the fear of the unknown will come bearing down on me in its full wrought. So I decided to linger on in my “safe haven” of am not yet awake.

Moments later, the two mother in-laws scampered in with my mum in front. I could feel the unease in her breath when she leaned to kiss my fore-head. The remaining two men outside; my father and Jason also walked back into the room. I was eager to hear what the topic of discussion will be. I was expecting the worst tantrum from my mother when and not if she finally opens her mouth to talk.

“Ah, those useless hospital people want to kill my daughter, a girl the holy spirit and I trained through fasting and prayers. So this is how the devil wants to attack me right? Blood of Jesus! They have failed with me o, they can never succeed”.

My mother, panting and breathing heavily as she paced around the room but I still did not know if I was safe to open my eyes or not. My father interjected, “Dear, she will be fine. It was a mix –up in the files. We just have to wait for her to wake up and then pick up from where the arrangements stopped!”.

I felt a tingle in my ears, there was adrenaline rush from my head down to my toes, I could not believe what I was hearing but again, I needed to be sure so I will not burst my cover and face the panel of death.

“I have been telling her to calm down but she will not listen, my son has already gotten the correct result from the hospital and tendered same to the committee chairman who personally called us to apologize for the earlier directives sent to the pastor. Nothing will spoil our day of joy o”.

With that reconfirmation, I opened my eyes, my eyes were locked in with Jason who was standing directly opposite the bed. He rushed to sit beside me, gently holding my hands and kissing my fore-head.

“You got me scared to death, I reached out to the taxi company hours after you told me you had arrived at the church. They checked their logs and confirmed you dropped off at Lugbe Satellite town. We traced your phone via GPS and tracked you to the hotel, we had to use the spare key to open the door and rushed you down here”.

I wanted to respond but the words were not coming, the tears started pouring in again. “Babe, don’t cry, it wasn’t your test result. There was a mix up with the surname; we are getting married in two days time so we really need to get going. You have slept for 15 hours while I have filled in for you with the arrangements I could. You need to pay me for that babe”.

With that, everybody busted out laughing real hard. My night mare had come to an end, my head was still aching but I was pumped up to resume from where I stopped. I tried getting up but I was told to allow the nurse remove the IV line in my left hand.

Can somebody give me my phone I asked, I need to confirm if the red roses have arrived from Lagos…”that is my daughter talking, soon to be Mrs Adenike Jason Cole”.

With that, we all left the hospital. I have a wedding to plan. Bye 

 

When

 

When life rhythms doesn't actually sound no more like duduke

When you hate the sight of sunrise because you gave up already on the day unfolding since last night when you soaked your pillows drenched

When the cover of darkness is the safest place you felt at peace; far from all preying eyes, probing questions at every turn all fuelled not by care or compassion but to confirm and satisfy their thirst for stories of your failure

When your silent outer self is an exact opposite of the raging war happening in the inside, yet wrapped around a smile as you trod past memories of sweet before all but gone in the fleeting moments

When conversations became sour, chaotic and a battle of who is wrong or right, all aimed to massage a battered ego bruised and scared from previous encounters on the alter of moral justification fanned  

When the voices, the only voices that you hear, that sound like songs and meaningful to you only lead to a place of darkness with no light in sight

When you look so closely, you see friends and foe and can’t tell which you should embrace for they all appear with tongues as weapons ready to strike deep with no remorse for your gut feeling

When the best wishes, decisions only echo “give up” “surrender”  “you can’t make it”. “its over”, at that point, if only you can take a moment and appreciate the last breathe and realise how special you are and privileged to be able to have one more go through your nostrils

You realise if you can do that alone, all by yourself, then you are all  you need to make it, make it through the challenges no matter how overwhelming because the journey to survival and happiness first starts from a willing mind and not a hopeless being

No matter what you lose, do not lose hope in God, in it, the greatest survival and success stories have emerged. Yours can be the next but only if you let hope a place in your heart.

Bless

Oh My Mother Land

 

How did we get here? That the cries of the innocent no longer irks our soul? Tell me how the blood stains on our land, flowing freely, is no longer seen as a proof of carnage?

While those alive mourn those dead in fear, the killers jubilate so loudly, we can hear them sing from afar. Their rythmic dance steps insult the memories of their victims for free.

Oh my land, my home! Can I still call you so? All I see now when I remember home is a slaughter field, where my ancestry is being eroded, violated, destroyed by people I once called brothers and fellow men.

How different are they from me? I see none, our skin tone shows we are supposed to be united as a common front against those who come from beyond the big wide sea to tap and mine the blessings of the creator hidden deep underneath our huts, just for you and I but alas today, they sit back and watch, without having to lift a finger, we turn and strike deep into the heart and bellies of ourselves

Wives left with no husband's, mother's left with no children to sorround them, maidens raped right in front of their fathers and our young ones sent to the great beyond in an instant, in one night.. 

Who do we call? Where do we go from here? A people with no sense of direction for our leaders either sold it for bread or were silenced for refusing bread. Who teaches the few young ones still left that the way of the sword is not the only language the world understands?

Oh the land I call home! The smoke still smells of burnt bamboos from my huts, the streams now sour as carcasses litter the path to the stream. Will morning ever come? Will the cover of darkness on our minds ever be removed?

Will this voices of pain and deep sorrow ever sing and dance to the early morning chirping of birds? While our leaders walk around with broad smiles and laughter as if their homes are safe and secure, the people they lead languish in utter disbelief of their arrogance even in the face of excellent failure on oaths taken to protect lives and property

Oh my land

My home

The silence of those meant to act has become too loud, it's deafening! The bloodsheds have become endless, the pains unbearable and the mockery too hard to swallow.