My parents divorced when I was little. My mum got custody of me. I don’t have siblings so it was just the two of us for the most part of my childhood. Sadly, she passed away a few months after I completed Senior High School. To say that I was devastated will be the understatement of the century. Not only was she the only parent I knew but she was everything to me in this world. I felt utterly alone without her......See Full Story>>.....See Full Story>>
In my grief, my mother’s stepped up and offered me the comfort of family. “You are not alone,” he consoled me, “You have us. My wife and I will take you in.” He was my family so I said yes.
He was somewhere in his mid-thirties when I moved in with them. He kept his word and treated me as if I were one of his three children. Those three little kids also gave me the respect and adoration they would give a big a sister. I felt at home, sheltered by my kin. Who would dare cause me harm?
My uncle.
I was twenty when he enrolled me into the university. I knew where I was coming from. I also knew where I wanted to go. Most importantly, I recognized the rare opportunity I was presented with. For these reasons, my focus was always on my books. I didn’t behave like an entitled child who asked for more than she deserved. I was modest in everything I did, including my dressing. I knew my place in his house and acted accordingly.
I know my body, how it draws stares even when I wear a normal outfit. So I always covered up. At home, I wore clothes designed for someone my size. But barely five months into my stay there, my uncle started touching me in ways he shouldn’t be touching his niece.
He started on a playful note. He would seize every chance to smack my behind when no one was looking. Other times he would feel up my chest. It made me uncomfortable. And my mother didn’t raise me to be quiet in the face of abuse. So I spoke up. I told him, “I don’t like it when you touch me like that.” He frowned at me and sternly said; “If you don’t stop misbehaving I won’t pay your school fees anymore.” Oh, a threat!
I also threatened him; “Touch me like that again and I will tell your wife.” I thought he would call my bluff but surprisingly, he backed away. For two months, he kept his distance. He only spoke to me when it was absolutely necessary. “Finally, he has come to his senses,” I said to myself as I experienced peace for the first time in a long while.
One day, I returned from lectures to find no one at home. An hour later, he came back from work and handed me a wrapped box. I was surprised but didn’t think too much of it. When I opened it, it was drinks and fast food. I took them to my room and ate.
Not long after, I started feeling strange—dizzy and weak. The last thing I remember was sitting on the floor. When I woke up, I was on my bed, undressed, with spots of blood on my bedsheet and pain in my abdomen. I didn’t need anyone to tell me what had happened.
The next day, he offered to drop me off at school. On the way, he handed me a wad of cash. He gave me money for school every day but this time around it was five times the usual amount. Although I had no recollection of whatever happened, the money he gave me was all the confirmation I needed that he violated me.
For the next few days, he started talking to me excessively, all in an attempt to force conversations with me. I didn’t indulge him. Rather, I kept my distance and avoided him as much as I could.
It wasn’t long before his wife noticed my withdrawal. She pulled me aside one evening and asked, “Is something wrong? You’ve been too quiet lately. You don’t even step out of your room anymore. Did anyone offend you?” I wanted to tell her but I was afraid of how she would react. So I shook my head and said, “Everything is fine. I’ve just been busy with my books.”
He must have overheard the conversation. I saw him trying to eavesdrop. And that night, he came to my room. He begged me not to tell his wife. I was quiet while he said, “I am sorry I did that to you.” I thought his apology meant repentance but I was wrong.
About a month later, I stayed home to do laundry instead of going to church with the rest of the family. After I was done, I decided to take a shower. The bathroom was in my bedroom and there was no one at home so I didn’t lock my door.
Before I knew it, the door swung open. My heart dropped. I wasn’t expecting anyone back so soon. I quickly wrapped a towel around myself and stepped out to see who it was.
It was him.
I knew right away that his intentions weren’t good. He motioned to my bed and said, “Sit down. I want us to talk.” Now, why would I do that? I started inching toward the door in a ploy to escape. He saw what I was up to and pushed me onto the bed before I could take another step.
Heaven knows how hard I fought to free myself from his clutches. I bit him even. After all that, he still overpowered me and had his way with me.
After his monstrous act, he went out and returned to my room with money. This time it was a big bundle. He didn’t say a word but I understood he was trying to buy my silence. That was the final straw. I packed some of my things that very day and snuck out of the house without telling anyone. I went straight to my grandma’s place.
When he realized I was gone, he called my grandma and claimed he didn’t know why I’d left. Grandma, as clueless as she was, kept pressuring me to return to his house, but I stood my ground. I used the money he gave me to rent a hostel.
Thankfully, a lecturer I had befriended supported me in school. My grandma also occasionally sent me money. I managed the little gifts I received from these generous people throughout my stay in school. By the grace of God, I have graduated now.
I have been living my life, doing my best to heal from my past. Only to hear from my uncle’s wife that he is seriously ill. She told me, “We don’t know what’s wrong with him. We moved from hospital to hospital but it didn’t help. Finally, we consulted a native doctor. He said your uncle won’t recover unless he kneels and confesses his sins to you in front of everybody.”
According to her, I have to come to the house and apologize for ruining my uncle’s name. Her words cut me deeply, “We treated you well when you were with us. So why are you going about making up stories about us?” If only she knew, but of course, she doesn’t know.
Since then, they’ve been calling me with different numbers, asking me to come around. I don’t want to see him so I have refused to go. Honestly, I never told anyone what he did. I never cursed him or wished him harm either. Whatever is wrong with him, I have no hand in it. I am not responsible for his sickness. Am I wrong to stay away?