CONCLUSION

Voices for Life: While Lucy and I were at the university, we decided to form a youth club called ‘Voices for Life’. It is a group of young people who speak out against various ills in our society. Fortunately we found many young peo­ple who are willing to learn and spread the mes­sage in their families and among their peers. It is our desire that the reflections made from our traumatic experiences be used to protect, help and empower others. The Voices for Life club has as its aim the pro­tection of life and promotion of a just and free society. It members are young people from all walks of life.

 
Dear reader, you can also form the ‘Voices for Life’ in your school or tertiary institution. We do not want the abuse, abduction and trafficking that happened to Lucy and I to continue in our country. Our effort could be little but it will go a long way in saving lives. There are so many girls and boys that are abused, used for money rituals or trafficked as sex slaves. If we do not speak up for them, no one else will.
 

The following are key points to help members understand what the ‘Voices for Life’ group is all about.
 
1.    Be charitable to yourself and others. Keep away         from evil thoughts that harm others such as                 violence,   rape, and killings.
2.   Be courageous to report all forms of abuse                  (sexual,  physical, verbal), ritual killings 

      and human trafficking in your family and area to 

      the police and those in higher au­thority.
3.      Be careful with the kind of friends you make. Some people do not have good in­tentions for you.
4.      Be a hardworking and creative citizen. Avoid shortcuts to making money.
5.      Be positive about life. One could be a vic­tim today but a survivor and overcomer for others.
6.      Be kind in giving a listening ear to victims and survivors. They are our brothers and sisters and not                 contaminated human be­ings
 7.    Be prayerful. We need God’s protection always

 
 

FREEDOM

Joyful Freedom Aunty Agatha and I were in tears while we listened to Lucy’s story. She had gone tru­ly through a lot. She would have given up on life if it was not for the grace of God upon her. We embraced her warmly and wept together for a while.

 The next day Aunty Agatha decided that she would pay for Lucy’s education at any univer­sity of her choice in the country. A young woman who had gone such a traumatic experience de­served every support and love. Oh how Lucy jumped for joy! She was going to share the good ­news with her parents who were already so eager to see her. I went with Aunty Agatha’s driver to accompany Lucy home in Edo State. What great joy there was in her family after seven long years!

When we returned to Lagos, I was exhausted and feverish. My body became weak from the shock, fatigue and relief from my experience in the hands of Mrs Laraba and her accomplices. I fell ill for some days and Aunty Agatha took good care of me, with Betty’s assistance.

 After I recovered, she made sure I ate and rest­ed very well before involving myself again in the activities of the house and shop. I never stopped thanking God for rescuing me from the evil ones.  A few months later I got admission into the university to study medicine. It was a tough course but I was determined to succeed. I ex­celled in all my exams and finally graduated as a neuro-surgeon. My joy knew no bounds when I was conferred with the degree of my dreams!

A Special Gift One evening, Aunty Agatha called me her room. She brought out a little box. I recognised it as the box that her late mother gave her. She gave it to me as a present and said I should have custody of it now that I was a grown woman.  I was moved to tears when I opened it. She never stopped being a woman of joyful surprises. Her reason for handing it over to me was to let me know that she was very proud of me and glad that I did not disappoint her.

In the little box was a special set of jewellery. She wanted me to use them on my wedding day. She then prayed for me and asked God to bless with a good husband and children. I could only sob out of joy and gratitude. Indeed my mother in heaven was watching over me and she had sent me to this good mother, my beloved Aunty Agatha. 

LUCY'S STORY

Lucy’s Story  Aunty Agatha listened attentively to my story and was quite shocked to find out that her friend Mrs Laraba had such bad intentions to get rid of me. She called the police and they came quickly to the house. I was asked to write a statement at the police station the next day and Mrs Laraba was picked up. She looked at me in disbelief. Her evil schemes had been exposed.

Aunty Agatha could not stop thanking God for bringing me back safely. She was thankful for Lucy and I. She had a great dinner for us, inviting neighbours and friends. What joy to be alive and back home!

One day when Kosa was out of town, Doda went to the house to visit Lucy. Knowing that Lucy was alone in the house, he made sexual ad­vances to her and when she refused, he raped her. He became very violent and threatened Lucy that if she told Kosa what had happened, he would change the story and convince his girlfriend that it was Lucy who had made advances to sleep with him.

Her first week in the den was hell. She was beaten daily and made to sleep with several men every evening. She hardly had enough food to eat. Here she was in this unknown place; a sex slave, living worse than an animal, with no free­dom. The rule was “do what they tell you and not what you think.” It was and is still a very dehumanizing experience. She felt like committing suicide on several occasions. It seemed God and her loved ones had abandoned her. “What was there to live for? Better to die than continue in the den,” she would often tell herself.

On a second thought, she decided to fight back psychologically and live. She was determined to seek for a way out of the den, no matter how long it would take. You could trust no one there with your secrets but her eyes always raged for free­dom. She wanted to see her parents and siblings again and these thoughts gave her courage to live.

Tobi the truck driver was the only one she could confide in. They arrived in the same week. He was made a sex slave and housekeeper for the boss. He suffered greatly. They had attempted to escape on two occasions but their plans were foiled. After living in the den for some years the boss began to entrust responsibilities to them but both of them never lost hope of regaining their freedom.
Therefore when Nkem arrived and Lucy saw in her the younger sister she needed to protect, she took the opportunity to escape with her  even if it meant being caught and killed.  Fortunately for them Tobi knew  so many routes and made friends at the Nigerian border so he could drive in and out without of­ficial documents

Aunty Agatha was eager to help Lucy get back to her family too. She gave Lucy a phone to call her parents and siblings. Her father could not be­lieve his ears when he heard his daughter’s voice. For the past five years he had been praying for her safe return home after she went missing. Her family lived in Edo state so they could not come to meet her right away in Lagos. It was arranged for Lucy to travel back home to them.  

The night before Lucy returned home, she narrated her story. She recalled that at the age of seventeen, after completing her secondary school, she moved to the city to live with her cousin Kosa. She was much older than Lucy and had a good job. Lucy, through Kosa’s help, got a job as sales girl. She worked so as to save up for her tertiary education since her parents could not afford to send her to the university. Lucy’s cousin had a boyfriend named Doda who visited them often.

 

Lucy was trapped. She wept bitterly. How was she going to continue living with her cousin after this horrific experience? When Kosa returned to the house Lucy narrated her ordeal. Kosa was in­furiated by her boyfriend’s act. They reported the case to the police and after further investigations, it was discovered that Doda had done the same to some other girls who did not have the courage to speak out. He was arrested and imprisoned.

Unknown to Kosa, Doda was also a member of a big bad gang that was into human trafficking. His gang members abducted Lucy on her way from work one evening and sold her to the owner of the den outside Nigeria. She cried and wailed but no help came for her. She met some other girls in the same situation in the den. They had either been abducted or lured by some friends to this way of life.

REUNION

 

A Day of Rejoicing: We got to Aunty Agatha’s house late in the af­ternoon due to the heavy traffic in Lagos. What joy to be safely back home! The security man let us into the compound and ran to tell her I was back. Aunty Agatha came running to embracing me. We wept and hugged each for a long while. “My child, where have you been? What hap­pened to you?” She then noticed Lucy standing next to me. “Nkem, I see you have a friend here. Who is she?” “Her name is Lucy,” I replied. God used her to bring me safely back home. Come inside my children. You must be starving. Lifting up her hands to the heavens she prayed, “God, I thank you!”

 An Ordeal Never to be Desired 

Aunty Agatha wanted to hear every detail of my ordeal. She was not feeling too well during her trip so she decided to cut it short to four days instead of a week. She returned home on the evening I went missing. She was told I had not returned from the shop at past 9pm, which was strange. She called one of her sales girls who told her that they did not see me in the shop all day. Something was certainly wrong somewhere. Betty told her I was last seen with Mrs Laraba who offered to drop me at the shop that morning. Mrs Laraba’s phone number was not reachable for two days and fi­nally when it rang she said she had left me at the door of the shop and was also shocked to know I was missing.

 
Immediately Aunty Agatha developed a high pressure. She went with Betty to the police sta­tion to report that I was missing. Mrs Laraba went to the house to calm her down and made up a story that it was possible I ran away with a young man. Aunty Agatha did not believe her knowing how she had raised me and kept pray­ing for my safe return

AN ESCAPE

A Miraculous Escape: Lucy was a truly a God-sent to me. She saw my tears, my wailing and continuous pleading to get out of the den. I kept crying and saying, “this is not where I ought to be. I was abducted and brought here against my will. I have a mother looking for me at this moment.” Lucy was moved by my tears and saw in me a younger sister in need of help. She was willing to help me get out of there. It seems she had always had the desire to escape from the den and this was a good opportunity for her too. She knew the risks, death was the penalty if caught but she was ready to help me. 

On my second day at the brothel she told me to keep pretending to be very sick, so I lay on the bed feigning sick as instructed. She gave me some pills which really made me sick. They used to put such pills in drinks of some very rich clients so as to steal cash and jewellery from them. I became very weak, and could hardly stand all day. So when the boss came to check if I was ready to be of use to some men that evening, he found me too sick to be on my feet. He shook his head and wondered if Mrs Laraba had brought him a ‘use­ful product.’ He left it to Lucy’s care and judge­ment to ensure I was okay as soon as possible. He did not want to waste time and money on a girl that was of no use. I heard Lucy assuring him that she would make sure I would be ready for work soon.  Late that night, when the other girls were away, Lucy woke me up and asked me to quickly get dressed into one of her ‘work costumes.’ She gave me something to drink and I felt strength­ened. I kept praying for God’s assistance to get out of this place of hell all the while I lay sick.

 

She knew there was the truck for collecting rubbish in the compound. The truck driver, Tobi, often left at around 2.00am to the dumping site as he had to deliver hard drugs along the way to roadside clients and sometimes bury the bodies of dead sex workers in a mass grave out of town. Of all the girls in the den, Lucy was the closest to him. They both arrived at the den in the same week; scared, beaten and sexually abused. They had survived there for the past five years, and had now ‘settled in’ to the business.  Lucy told me we had to join the truck to get out of the den. That was my only chance of es­cape. The truck driver would not let her down on this occasion. We got onto the back of the truck, covered with so much litter. We did not mind the smell, all we thought of was getting out safely.

 

After dumping the rubbish, Tobi drove for hours to the Nigerian border and helped us to cross into Badagry in Lagos State. He wished us luck and told Lucy not to forget him. Lucy had some naira with her and so she paid for our trans­port fare to my mother’s house in Lagos Island. Thank God I still remembered the house address.

PROSTITUTION

Den of Prostitutes: Mrs Laraba figured out that if she let me go I would tarnish her image. Therefore she thought of another plan to dispose of me or keep me where I would never be able to find my way back home. I heard her making a phone call and then she drove for hours to an unknown destination.

 I kept on praying to God to deliver me from the evil schemes that lay ahead of me. I fell asleep again and only woke up at the sound of people around me. “Where am I?” I asked. I looked around me and found a group of young girls star­ing at me. When I finally came to full conscious­ness I was told I was in a brothel of prostitutes. “Oh my God, how did I get here? What was I do­ing here?” I then remembered Mrs Laraba. I wept bitterly!

The other girls felt sorry for me but could only say, “welcome to our den.” “Oh my God, why have you abandoned me? Virgin Mary where are you?” I called out to my mother and asked her if she was still watching over me. This was the sad­dest day of my life.

I was told I was in a place far away outside Nigeria. Mrs Laraba must have driven across the border to dump me here. By evening I saw all the girls dressed half naked, with all sorts of skimpy clothes and make-up on their faces. I was told to wait for my initiation and kept in the care of an older girl named Lucy. I asked the initiation meant and what it was going to be like. She told me out rightly, “here we earn our living by sleeping with men. You do not have to like it, you just do what they tell you. The Madam that brought you here will be heavily paid while you work for hours using your body for money.”

I nearly fainted! “So all these stories of human trafficking and forced sex workers were true?” “God please deliver me from this den of prosti­tutes!” I cried and cried. I could not imagine my­self being disvirgined by the sort of men she mentioned to me. I immediately started thinking of a way out of there. This isn’t what God wants for me. No, I will not allow them to ruin my life. I begged Lucy to help me run away, to escape from this dungeon of hell.

I did not sleep that night. I stayed awake, trembling and praying not to be called out to have sex with any of those bad men. Lucy was kind enough to protect me that night. When the owner of the brothel came asking for the new girl, she told him she was very sick and needed a day or two to be well enough for the job. At the sound of his voice I cringed in fear, not wanting him to see or remember my face.

The other girls returned at about 5am. One had a bad cut on her face, she said her client beat her up when she refused to go for more than five rounds with him. She looked weak and in much pain. Lucy helped to clean the cut and apply some ointment on it. Another girl started vomiting profusely, she was pregnant and had been told to abort the pregnancy but the baby refused to die. She was told she had to “flush it out” to continue working or starve to death. Her ill health and the baby were bad news to this business. I said to myself, “what cruelty! No woman deserved this kind of treatment.”

In this den of sex slaves, if you want to run away, you must leave and escape as far as pos­sible. Hanging around in a city or village nearby the den was dangerous and could lead to one be­ing killed. The girls narrated so many frightening stories.  One thing was clear from look of the faces of these young girls, most of them were lured to this place and way of life. They were working as sex slaves against their will. They were far away from home, and often felt betrayed, used, destroyed and now too ashamed to return home.

 

BETRAYAL

 

Here I was in this shrine abducted and betrayed by this close friend of my new mother.  Baba shook his head and sighed while listen­ing to Mrs Laraba. When she finished narrating her story, Baba told her that she had made a great mistake by betraying a friend’s trust, and that he would not be a party to it. He said he had been a source of her wealth for several years now but on this child that lay before him he saw bad luck ahead of them. He advised her to take me back home. If she could not take me back to my new mother, she must make sure I stayed alive, for the light in me, the guiding spirits and the forces around me were pure.

They did not know I heard and understood every word of their conversation. Mrs Laraba asked the two men to untie and lift me to the back seat of her jeep. Having done as she instructed them, she gave them some money and thanked the Baba for his advice. I kept praying to God in my heart. I could not imagine that someone so pretty could be so evil. Sometimes those we think are close friends may have hidden, unkind agendas for being close to us. We must always ask God to give us good and true friends. It was now late in the night. I could tell we were driving through the bush from the sounds of night insects and leaves. We finally got to the tarred road and she wound down the side glasses for some cool breeze. I was grateful for the fresh air, and at this point on this shocking journey, I felt very hungry. I was able to endure the hunger from my life experience under the Lagos bridge.

 I started imaginig what story Mrs Laraba would tell my new mother when we got back home. I did not know something worse lay ahead of me. “Oh God, do not abandon me,” was my prayer. Suddenly she stopped, came  down from her car, and touched me. I murmured some words as a sign that I was gaining consciousness. She did not want me to be aware of what was happening to me.

MY ABDUCTORS

 In the Hands of Ritualists:  Mrs Laraba drove for hours through the heavy Lagos traffic, till we got to a village in Topo, Bad­agry. She told me she wanted to see a business associate there who owed her some money, since there was enough time to get into the Republic of Benin. I said I was okay with her plans. She gave me some snacks to eat and a bottle of coke. I took them and slept off.

When I woke up, I found myself in a bush, bound hand and feet in a shrine where incanta­tions in a language I did not understand were be­ing chanted by a man of about sixty years of age. Around his waist was a red wrapper. Looking around I saw two other men starring at me, and some very frightening african carvings placed in the shrine. I was now beginning to regain con­sciousness. I had been drugged with the coke she gave me to drink and brought to this place.

The period I lived under Lagos bridge for two years, I had heard about ritual killings in shrines. Seeing all these scary carvings, it dawned on me that I had been abducted by Mrs Laraba. She had lured me out of the house for this reason. “Oh my God, please help me. deliver me from these wicked people.” I remained lying on the floor, not yet fully conscious. The effect of whatever Mrs Laraba gave me to drink was not yet over. Fortunately, I was conscious enough to hear them talking and I followed their conversa­tions silently.

 Mrs Laraba whispered to the baba in the shrine. She told him that I was still unconscious and wondered what would happen if I did not gain consciousness before the ritual due to take place at midnight. It was now about nine p.m. I did not know I had slept for that long. It was through their discussion I learnt that I had been unconscious from the moment I drank the bottle of coca-cola. They thought I was dead but for the slow beating of my heart. Baba told her to be patient, that if I failed to wake up that they could carry me and my belongings and throw me on the road side. That it I would be of no use for the sacrifice.

They were not aware that I heard their conver­sation. While Aunty Laraba was worried about my being unconscious I persisted in prayer. I closed my eyes and prayed earnestly to God and asked the Blessed Virgin Mary to help me. I pleaded with my departed mother to protect me. I invoked the protection of my guardian angel. I could not stop praying.

The hut was dark and the noise from the forest was so intense. I did not know where I was, all I knew was that there were about three men there, including Aunty Laraba. At about 11.45p.m. Baba came to where I lay with ropes tied on both hands and feet, he looked at me and he murmured to himself, “This child is not destined to be used for rituals. She is not alone, there are guiding spirits around her.” Why would Mrs Labara go for a poor crea­ture?

She did not know the implications of what  she was doing? Her actions would anger the gods for there were creatures not meant for sacrifices of this nature. I would ask her to take her back to where she could abandon her even if she was unconscious. This sign alone of her not regain­ing consciousness showed that a creature like her was not for the gods. Her guiding spirits were with her.’’

He went back to Mrs Laraba and asked her how and where she got me from. She told him I was an orphan and an adopted child of her best friend Agatha. She could not understand why her friend would shower so much love on a hope­less orphan that she picked from under the Lagos bridge. The most annoying thing to her was Aga­tha’s decision to will her entire property to this child whose blood line she didn’t even know.

She told the Baba how she had deceived me into making this trip with her. Mrs Laraba ad­mitted that she had nurtured this plan for some time now and was only looking for the right time which came when her friend Agatha made the business trip to Cotonou. Mrs Laraba, in the course of her waiting for an opportunity, gained Nkem’s trust so it was not difficult to persuade her to travel with her to meet her new mother. She wondered why her friend would care so much for a complete stranger, when she had chil­dren that had a future ahead of them.

I was shocked at what I had just heard. I tried not to make any sound, for I felt like weeping.

ABDUCTION FOR RITUAL

Abducted for Rituals and Prostitution 

Mother’s most trusted friend, Mrs Laraba, was a very rich and sophisticated lady. She was loved by all of us because she was very pretty, young, charming. Each time she travelled out of the country she would buy us gifts and she knew that we liked that. As a re­sult I took a very affectionate likening for her and trusted her.  Aunty Agatha always spoke highly of her. To her she was the sister she never had. She visited her often and they shared many secrets. Aunty Agatha did not hide anything from her because she felt she could trust her, since they had been friends for long. Sometimes people mistook them for twin sisters.

One time, Aunty Agatha had to go on a busi­ness trip for a week to the Republic of Benin. She made such trips once in a while. Mrs Laraba knew all Aunty Agatha’s itinerary and she was aware she would be away for that week. Four days after her departure, on a Friday morning, Mrs Laraba came to the house while I was pre­paring to go the shop. She asked Betty about my whereabouts. She was told I was getting ready to go to work. She entered my bedroom without knocking, and even though I felt uncomfortable about that I decided not to be rude.

I greeted her and told her I was about leaving for the shop. She told me Aunty Agatha had called her the previ­ous evening to say she was going to arrive in two days time. She wanted me to see another coun­try so she asked Mrs Laraba to bring me along as she was going there too. I would then travel back with Aunty Agatha to Lagos.

I was excited about the trip and innocently asked her what I would need for the journey. I had a strange feeling within me, as Aunty Agatha would usually call to inform me about such trips but on a second thought I thought to myself that my new mother was a woman of many good sur­prises and this could be one of them.

Mrs Laraba said I should take a few things and since I would soon be with Aunty Agatha, what­ever extra clothing I needed would be provided for by her. She sat on my bed and asked me to hurry up, we had a long journey to make. I wore my rosary on my neck and took a few clothing, including my mother’s wrapper. I called Betty and told her I was going with Mrs Laraba who immediately intercepted that I was not to tell Bet­ty where we were going to. It was enough that Betty knew she was going to drop me at the shop. She was not aware of my journey to Cotonou.

MY FRIENDS

 My School Friends  Among my friends, Uche rarely had visitors on Visiting Days. Her mother died while giving birth to her and she was raised by a stepmother. They lived in another region, quite far from our school so they could not come to see her often. She understood the situation and never com­plained. Uche was a very brilliant and intelligent girl. She desired to become a successful lawyer and worked hard to achieve this.

Nana was the first born in her family. She was a good mathematician and she worked hard to become a professor in mathematics. Yemi was an only child. She was very sociable and kind. She studied hard to become an engineer. We were all hard working students and none of us repeated a class. In our final year, we excelled and came out in flying colours.

Completing Secondary School

At the age of twenty I completed my secondary education. My age was not so obvious because of my small stature. On our graduation day, Aunty Agatha was all smiles for I passed with very good grades. The years had passed so fast, that here I was already out of secondary school. I had learnt a lot of things in boarding school and I was going to put them in practice. We were taught how to be respectful, hardworking and loyal citizens of our country. I had also acquired new skills in baking, dress making and playing the guitar.

After our graduation ceremony, I bade good­bye to my friends and promised to keep in touch via mobile phone.

Back Home From School

On our arrival home, Betty was excited to see me and hugged me tenderly. She had prepared my favourite meal of fried plantain with tomato sauce and fish. In my room I noticed there were a few changes. I now had a bigger bookshelf and on my reading table was a collection of books. My new mother knew I liked reading. Aunty Agatha and I talked all through the night in her bedroom after dinner. She wanted to know everything about my final term in boarding school. She was impressed by my good grades.

I rested for a week before going to assist in her shop. I was to work there till I received my ad­mission for the university. I was happy to give a helping hand in her business, as a show of grati­tude for all her love and care for me.

SCHOOL LIFE

I arrived on Saturday as school commenced on Monday. In the girls’ hostel my block was Blue House and I made a few friends among the girls who slept on the upper bunk bed and two others in same hostel. One of them was our senior and we were lucky to have the house prefect in our group. Yemi was the same age as me at 14, Nana 12 years old and Uche was 11 years old. I was glad Yemi and I were same age because it meant I wasn’t alone as the old­est in the first year of junior secondary school.

While unpacking my things, trying to get my night gown from my suitcase, I saw my mother’s wrapper neatly ironed and folded in it. I was moved with emotion when I thought of my new mother and her consideration. I knelt down and prayed for Aunty Agatha my new mother. I prayed for my family and friends everyday.

I was never bullied at school, my friends and school mother, the head girl made sure I didn’t fall into wrong hands. The matron was also there to see to my needs. Sometimes I went with my classmates to visit my teacher, my school guard­ian. I could confidently say that Aunty Agatha took great care to ensure that I did not lack any­thing while at boarding school. I did well in all me exams. I excelled in my junior secondary ex­ams and opted for science subjects in senior sec­ondary, as I still nurtured my dream of becoming a neuro-surgeon.

I was aware of the lack of good primary health care, particularly in the rural areas. The thought that the rich are often flown abroad for treatment while the poor had to make do with the poor health facilities available brought much pains to my heart. The rapid growth of miracle healing centers and their publicity to cure people who are physically, financially and spiritually sick is quite alarming. In my quiet moments, I often wondered how if things were properly done and corruption eschewed from our country, there would be no need to go looking for miracle centers.

 In our boarding school I became a member of the choir and volunteered to play the piano. Life in school was very interesting and exciting. My favourite game was basketball. Though I was not a good player I loved the sport. I always looked forward to the Visiting Days. On such occasions, Aunty Agatha would prepare a delicious meal for us to enjoy at lunch time and also pack some gifts for my friends. I would sit next to her to catch up with family gists and share many jokes.
 

BOARDING SCHOOL

Going Away to Boarding School  My entrance examination into secondary school was successful. Aunty Agatha was very happy. While waiting to go into boarding school, she made sure I would go with her to see how she managed her business. Sometimes we went to market together and other times we waited to receive her goods that were supplied to her.

 On the day before I left for boarding school, Aunty Agatha called me to her room. She placed her hand under her pillow and brought out a lovely wristwatch and gave it to me. She said she prayed that her mother and my mother would be there for me to guide me as always and that I must hold on to my faith in God. I hugged her in gratitude.

 I asked her if I could address her as mother. She laughed and said I could, if it made me hap­py. I told her it was what I had always wanted and I dreamt of the day I could have the cour­age to ask her if she would allow me address her as mother. She laughed with tears pouring down her cheeks and gave me a hug. I then made another request, which was if I could share her bed that night since I

would be going away to boarding for the next three months. She asked me to join her with open arms. I slept with my head placed on her shoulder while thanking God, and whispering to my mother in heaven a ‘thank you’ for bringing someone to me who was so kind and who treated me like her child. I slept with me arms around Aunty Agatha’s neck, my new mother.

 Early next morning, my things were packed already for my jour­ney to school. The driver was instructed to be ready at 8.00am. Aunty Agatha made sure I did not forget anything.  Betty, to whom I became like a little sister was a bit sad but happy for me that I was going to prepare well in school for my future.  I was grateful that Aunty Agatha and the driv­er accompanied me to school. My new mother wanted to ensure that I settled in well. Before re­turning home, she arranged with the matron and one of the teachers to be my guardian. We were all happy I was in good hands.

A BETER HOME

A Better and Real Home: Aunty Agatha’s home was in Apapa, a beautiful house with a small staff quar­ters. She lived all by herself. She had a maid called Beatrice and a driver named John. They were very welcoming and friendly. She presented me to them and told them that they were to treat me like her own child. Betty then took me to the room she had prepared for me.

My room was very beautiful.  Painted in pink with a lovely bed, shelves and a wardrobe. I could not imagine how she could have prepared that room in such a short time. She must have spent the whole of the previous day trying to make things comfortable for me. I remembered my mother telling me she would be with me.

My eyes clouded with tears, I could not ex­press my gratitude to Aunty Agatha in words ex­cept through the tears flowing down my cheeks. She too could not help but weep with me while she drew me closer to her and embraced me. She used her bare hands to wipe away my tears. She told me to go to the bathroom and take a proper bath. She showed me the bathroom and gave me a lovely pink towel. She said, ‘Nkem pink is for girls even when you grow up to be a beautiful young lady, pink still suits you until you are eighteen.’

She told me that within the week she would enrol me into a good school to enable me continue with my education. To her, she saw me as a brilliant young child that would grow up to be a beautiful and intelligent lady. I gave her another hug, she ushered me into the bathroom and left to give instruction to Be­atrice.

In the bathroom I took my bath in sweet running clean water from the tap with a beautiful fragrant soap. Once again I thanked God for his merciful love. ‘Dear Lord thank you for Aunty Agatha and for the new home. Please help me to be good and obedient, and  to live up to her expectations. Bless her for her kindness and generosity to me.’ I then said aloud, ‘Is it that you have given me another mother? You said you would not abandon me. True to your word I have found a mother in Aunty Agatha.’

I opened the wardrobe. I picked up an An­kara (Nigerian wrapper) three-quarter length and a simple T-Shirt. I combed my hair and I went to the sitting room. Aunty Agatha was there and with a broad smile she invited me to join her. She asked Beatrice to bring me a cup of chocolate drink and another sandwich.  Her sit­ting room was very beautiful and clean. while Beatrice was preparing lunch, she spent some time chatting with me. She asked questions about my family and what I remembered about them. I felt so safe and at home with her. She told me she had made up her mind to  contact the proprietress of a school the next day so as to see if I could be enrolled to start the following week. We would use the days before starting school to get to know each other better.

After a long conversation with Aunty Agatha, we came to a conclusion that for my education, I was to repeat primary four. Yes, at the age of twelve when I should have been in secondary school, I would be in primary four. Thank God I wasn’t too tall for my age. Though I was small in stature, it was not too bad to be with children of ages 7 and 10 in primary school. Aunty Agatha assured me that I would be fine. With love and understanding she prepared me for school.

Aunty Agatha had a restaurant and a saloon. She employed some good and hardworking young ladies and men to assist in running her business. This according to her was to help create jobs for the youth. She would often say that, ‘Our government cannot provide jobs for everyone. Therefore, those of us who own private business can contribute in creating employment in our own little way.’  Sometimes Aunty Agatha was in­vited to give talks to young people, and she was a mentor to many of them. At about two o’clock that afternoon, Beatrice announced that lunch was ready. We sat at the dining room to eat semovita and egusi soup. The food was very delicious.

My first night in my new home was very peaceful. For the first time I slept without the nightmare of my uncle trying to rape me. Be­fore then I had often seen myself running in my dreams, trying to escape from my uncle. I prayed that someday this nightmare would be over.

The next day, I woke up at 6.00am and said my prayers before getting out of bed. I made the bed, took my bath and got dressed. I was about leav­ing the room when Aunty Agatha came in to say hello. She was glad to see me looking refreshed and to know I had slept well. She gave me a hug and told me how happy she was that I accepted to leave the streets to come live with her.  Like a good mother, she had checked on me while I was sleeping at night, to find out if I was alright. She noticed I did not cry or talk in my sleep. It was a good sign feeling safe in her home.

She saw my little bible and asked me to read from it. I opened it and read a portion of the story of David and Goliath. She smiled and was glad that I could read confidently. She assured me that in going back to primary school, if I did well in my exams I could be granted a double promotion to a higher class. Starting in primary four was to as­certain my level of intelligence and comprehen­sion.

 

True to her words, I did exceedingly well in school and got promoted to primary six. I equal­ly sat for an exam into secondary school and I passed with flying colours. Aunty Agatha was very proud of me. Four years with her was like being in another world. Sometimes I asked my­self if I was dreaming. The driver was available to take me to school and bring me back. She ar­ranged for a private lesson teacher for me and equally encouraged me to learn how to play the piano. She made sure I joined the children’s choir and take part in church activities which involved children.

 

At the age of fourteen, I was enrolled into sec­ondary school. This was a bit later than usual, be­cause normally children in this part of the world would start secondary school between ten and twelve years of age. Nevertheless, I was happy to have the opportunity of going to secondary school. I never thought it possible. Due to God’s intervention through Aunty Agatha, I would be able to further my education. How many children in my situation had the good fortune to meet an angel like this one sent to them? I saw myself as a blessed child.

 I thought of my adopted brother David and I prayed he too would have the same luck that I had. My own blood brothers and sisters? I had no news from them and was beginning to forget their faces. I was not too sure if I would still rec­ognise them after quite some years of being apart.

 Maybe someday God would reunite us. I sin­cerely prayed and wished to be with them again. I was hopefully that the gene that bound us as children from the same parents would surely bring us together again some day.

Song of Trust

A DREAM COME TRUE

Aunty Agatha waited for me dressed up on the streets. She brought out a sandwich and a drink from the second bag she was carrying and gave them to me. I ate and drank the bottle of coke she gave me. Then she gave me an apple. This deli­cacy I still remembered in my later years. A child deprived of a decent meal for close to three years was now having a sumptuous breakfast. In my mind I thanked God for this blessing. While I was eating, my mind went back to my dream. Was this an assurance of my mother’s watchful eyes?

Aunty Agatha was very patient with me. I finished my meal. She then asked me to follow her. This I did without hesitation. She opened the door of her car and asked me to sit at the back seat. I did, and then she drove away. She was an angel sent to me to save me from the terrible life under the bridge of Lagos, having lost my adopt­ed brother David whom I still have no news of.

 I sincerely pray he is okay. I pray that some day we will meet and God willing we will survive and be alive to tell our stories. I did not forget my wrapper. I pleaded with Aunty Agatha to let me keep the wrapper my Mother gave me. She smiled and said that when we get to the house she would give me soap to wash and iron it. I hugged her and thanked her for her kindness. Apart from my mother I could not remember when I received or hugged some­one in appreciation for their kindness. For the two years I spent under the bridge I knew no kindness except that of my adopted big brother David

THE ANGEL FROM GOD

An Angel from God: She said, she came to see me, and had been there for about thirty minutes. She heard me talk­ing, she thought someone was with me. She got nearer and saw that I was sleeping and dreaming. The conversation between me and my mother was interesting. She felt it would be bad to break it. Then when I started crying in my dream and pleading with my mother, she could not help but woke me up. Looking into her eyes I saw tears, saw she must have been weeping silently with me.

 She opened the shopping bag she was carry­ing and brought out a beautiful dress and a nice pair of shoes. She asked me to get dressed. She said that I was going with her and she would take care of me since I had no one. She told me she was moved to tears the morning she saw me and that my story reminded her of her childhood experience. She was grateful to God for being able to come out of that situation.

Yes, initially I did not know her name. Tim­idly, I asked her name and she said I should call her Aunt Agatha. She was very beautiful. Aunt Agatha lost her mother at the age of eight too. Her relative that promised to look after her had subjected her to different forms of abuses - child labour, child slavery, etc. She could not escape her cruel aunt at her tender age. Her situation was more like that of a prisoner. Now she would not forgive herself if she left me behind for an­other day in the open and in the midst of so much danger. To her I was very lucky not to have fall­en into the hands of ritualists.

 Aunt Agatha wondered how many children were being subjected to the same conditions as myself daily. Only God knows how many might have died in a mysterious manner and how many were still being maltreated by their uncles, aunts and relatives, after assuring their parents that the children were in good hands and had a promising future. My adopted aunt was obvious­ly talking aloud to herself. I was watching every expression on her face. I could see some anger burning in her. She seemed a wealthy lady. The car she drove was very beautiful. She was equally a pretty lady. She seemed nice. 

Children have their guardian angels. I do pray to my guardian angel. Aunty Agatha looked nice to me but I still felt a little uncomfortable with her. I could not really describe how I felt. I did not feel any sign of danger or feel threatened yet my past experience with my mother’s relative, Aunt Nene, was still fresh on my mind and I wanted to be sure this Aunt Agatha was not going to be like her.