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.