Everyday, while we feign ignorance at the rate of abuse that goes in the society, we are hit with tales of various victims.
Fathers are abusing their children, Brothers, Sisters, neighbours are not left out. Yet we try to justify rape and sexual abuse/molestation. A couple of days ago, social media knew no peace as shameless men and women tried so freaking hard to justify an act of sexual molestation.
Yet, we cry foul when the disease hits home, till it hits someone related to you. I sincerely pray it doesn’t, you may never recover from it.
HERE is yet another tale from a survivor.
I was six years old when I had my first kiss.
” Let’s play a game ” my sixty two years old adopted dad had said as he kissed me smearing saliva all over my mouth. He tasted like decayed meat and I threw up afterwards.
When I was seven, my dad came back home very drunk and tried to rape my mother while we watched be hide the curtain. My aunt who was around asked her to calm down that after all he was our father and her husband. My mom didn’t calm down. She threatened him with the knife in her hands and she packed her things and left with us after that.
When I was eight , I was playing with my eleven years old cousin when he pinned me down to the floor and he shoved down my panties and only stopped because he didn’t know the right hole to insert it.
When I was nine , I was bathing in the rain when I heard some noise, I turned to look and there, watching from the balcony in lustful joy was the Landlord’s son, Trousers down. He took himself in both hands and stroked his manhood proudly while smiling at me. I threw sand in his eyes and fled.
When I was ten, I was playing inside an uncompleted building when I met this ‘kind’ man. He gave me sweets , said I was a cute little girl and laughed while showing me a torch under his trousers. He urged me to touch it as he tore open the front of my dress and started mauling my young and innocent breast.
I was eleven years old when an older boy in the orphanage sneaked into the bathroom while I was taking my bath and would only leave after I allowed him to touch my breast.
When I was twelve I shouted for help as a senior girl lifted my skirt and inserted an object forcefully inside me. The other girls in the hostel were nowhere to be found.
When I was thirteen, I was alone at home when my adopted brother returned home. He’d been drinking and asked me to give ‘ my big brother a hug. Next thing I knew, his hands were on my breast then he parted my legs and inserted his fingers. He was so rough and it hurts badly.
At nineteen an old man enough to be my grand father also sexually molested me.
-Chinyere Unique Nkemjika