True aunty Nene and her husband were very rich and highly respected in the society. Their house was in Victoria Island an area in Lagos largely occupied by the elite and middle class- and it had a servants’ quarters. They had two drivers and a cook, because my aunt and her husband were very busy people. Most of the time they were not at home. One would have imagined that with such opulence, I would have had my own room in the main house. Surprisingly, I was asked to share a room in the boys’ quarters with the cook who was a young lady called Betty. I was scheduled to work as one of the housemaids and as such the left over food was the meal I was entitled to. The cloths bought for me were taken away, and I was made to wear fitted adult cloths that my aunty did not need.
I thought I would have access to children’s books based on the picture presented to my mother. From the day I stepped into my aunt’s house till the day I ran away, I never laid my eyes on any book. Not to mention going to school. Betty, besides being the cook, was in charge of cleaning the main house and she would often bring to our room old journals, newspaper and magazines for me to read. She understood my longing to go to school and since I could read at eight years of age, I took the opportunity to go through them after the daily chores. Most times I did not understand what I read, but I kept reading. This I discovered helped in my later years of studies, because some of the difficult words that I came across were not strange me.
Running Away from My New Home
At the age of ten, I had physical signs of puberty. I was growing breasts and looking beautiful. I never liked aunt Nene’s husband and I often tried to avoid him. He verbally abused me, calling me all sorts of names whenever he saw me around. I was afraid to tell my aunt for fear she would be angry with me. Whenever she travelled, I made sure I stayed out of sight. Psychologically I became ill which kept me away from the main house.
Betty being a good lady, was like the big sister I lost. She made sure I was fine. She prayed with me. We played together and I looked forward to assisting her. She bought me a little Bible as a gift. We often went to the market to shop for the items needed for the house. She was never tired of me. The sadness in my heart was the psychological abuse of which she was aware and being a servant, she dared not side with me or protect me or she would lose her job. Being an orphan her life in the house couldn’t be better. She was always happy and positive about life.
One day I was summoned by aunt Nene’s husband to help in the house because Betty took ill. My aunt was away on her usual long trips. She was sometimes away for a week or more. Betty and I made sure things were alright before we retired to our quarters. I followed him to the main house. To my surprise he invited me to the bedroom. I tried to decline for I felt I had no right to be there. Moreover, the bedroom was strictly under Betty’s care. She was responsible for the cleaning and making sure everything there was in place. So I really did not have any business being in this restricted area and I believed it was wrong of him to have invited into the bedroom at that hour, and in the absence of any adult, especially my aunt.
I stood by the door. He ordered me to come in. I tried to obey while silently praying because I was afraid and I felt insecure. He told me not to be afraid, that he would not harm me. He tried to be friendly and apologized for abusing me and all the maltreatment that he subjected me to in order to make me feel at ease. In my heart I was looking for an escape route because he was touching me in a manner that I did not like. The fright in me was so intense I could almost imagine what his next move would be. Paralyzed by fright I was unable to move because I could not imagine that behind this so called respected man, was a devil, having no respect for a child’s innocence. He pulled me closer to him, I was rigid with fright. He kept touching me in an uncomfortable way and he wanted to undress me. I could not stand the humiliation, and I remembered mother’s instruction that I should never allow anyone touch me in a way that made me feel uncomfortable.
When I was a child she told me that it was important to live a holy life. The pride of every girl ought to be to preserve her purity and virginity till the right time in marriage. I saw my mother’s face and could hear her moral teaching. I could not imagine what my evil uncle was up to. In my own little way I struggled to be free from his uncomfortable embraces. He forced me onto the bed and covered my mouth to prevent me from screaming for help. What a horror for a child of ten! How do I get out of this ugly situation? I remembered my rosary and I prayed to the Virgin Mary and asked for her assistance. Miraculously, I did not know where I got the strength from to fight him off me. In the course of my struggle with him, my dress was partly torn. Thank God I had my mother’s wrapper with me, because before going to bed I always used it to cover myself, to feel my mother’s presence.
The next thing I did was to run out of the room, and luckily the door was open. I made my way to the main entrance, opened the door to the sitting room and ran out into the dark. I hid in the garden close to the security house. He was fast asleep and unaware of what was happening. Betsy too was ignorant of what was happening, as well as others, because they believed the master to be a perfect gentleman. The security guard usually opens the gate at six in the morning. He preferred using outside for his convenience, to urinate. I could not sleep for fright. I was awake all night and I heard the boss muttering some angry words. He did not have the courage to chase me or go round the compound in search of me for fear of attracting attention. At six a.m. in the morning the security opened the gate to go out. Somehow luck was on my side. He went went back into his room, and the gate was open. I quietly sneaked out and ran out. This was how I became one of the little ones that slept under the bridge.
