THE ABUSED CHILD- Pt 1
Since I became conscious of my environment, I have been going through sexual abuse. From older friends to classmates to neighbours, to my mother’s boyfriend. I cannot even pinpoint the exact time my abuse started. I was exposed to sex at a very early age.
I am the only child of my mother and she took me everywhere. I did not know any of her family members nor my dad and his family. We also did not have a house because she could not afford rent from her salary. She dated men mainly because of accommodation. Some of these men beat her but the most despicable was that they abused me. These horrible men will tell me to touch their penis and put it in my mouth. My mother would have a one-night stand I would practically be present in the hotel rooms. She would tell me to sit on a chair and I would watch the whole scene. Most of her boyfriends lived in one room apartments face-to-face towards each other. I would be on the same bed while she slept with her boyfriends.
One day, I complained to my mum about her men touching me inappropriately.
“Mummy, your boyfriends have been touching me, I said”.
“I know says my mum. But it is better this way. If we leave, we will have no place to go to. If we are homeless, it will become worse. Please, manage my child for now. Things would soon get better”.
Because my mum could not afford my education, so I stayed at home. While my mum went to work, I stayed back at home with the neighbours who were predominantly older boys. They refused to play me unless they touched my private part. Because I was the only child and had no siblings to play with, I allow them to touch my vagina and penetrate me. This happened with different people at different locations.
One afternoon, my mum called. “My child, I have seen what you have been going through and I have decided to take action. I don’t like the things you are going through. I will send you to the boarding house and you will be safe there”.
I jumped at that decision not knowing that would be my worst decision. I was admitted to primary 1 and it was already the third term. At first, it was good and I was acclimatizing to the environment. After the close of that term, I went home for the holiday and that was the last time I saw my mum. She dropped me off primary 2 first term and I never saw her again. She never came to school to visit but she kept on paying my school fees and upkeep amount into the school account. There was no mobile phone, so no one could contact her.
One day, I was entering my classroom when the headmistress called me into a room.There was another lady also present in the room.
“Good afternoon young girl, please sit down says the headteacher.
Do you know this woman, I was asked”.
“No ma I replied”.
“She cannot know”, said the lady. “She was still very young when I saw her last”. I know my niece when I saw her, she went ahead to describe my mum and she was perfect in her description. She saw me when I went outside of the school gate to dispose of the bin and recognized me immediately.
Later that day, my aunt who had visited earlier came with my grandma.
I had everything, I never lacked anything but I was lacking genuine love.
My grandma visited only on Sundays and would bring anything and everything. Immediately, after she leaves, the house mistress collects everything and gives it to her children.
Since my aunt was not the person who admitted me into the school, my relatives were not allowed to take me away. They could only visit any time except during the holidays. Since the whole school was empty during this period, I followed the house mistress to her house and the abuse started. It was also a community of more men who were older than me.
It initially started as care before it graduated to full-blown abuse. The house was a face-me-I-face-you house. Because I was wetting the bed, the house mistress would refuse me to sleep on the mat or on in a room. She would tell me to sleep in the corridor outside. There was a neighbour who had pity on me and would invite me to sleep with his children on the mat in his room. He would say “My children also bed-wet, all of you can be bed-wetting together” I was happy I was finally treated as a human being. I would do all the chores of the house, fetch water and fetch firewood for cooking.
One day, I was washing a heap of clothes in the compound and everyone had gone out except this man who was sleeping in his room. I finished washing the clothes and went inside the house to bring out plates to wash. He called me to get him a drink of water. Immediately, I entered his room, he pinned me on the floor and raped me. After he was done, I just stood up and went outside the compound to play with the children there. That was not the first time it was happening. At age 7, I was used to getting raped and touching my private part. Like the others, he threatened me not to tell anyone else I would die. He also told me that I would return to sleeping outside if I told anyone. Since I did not want that, I just continued allowing him to rape me. I was so used to it that I was no longer crying or struggling with men any time it happened. Sooner, the older boys in the area too started touching and penetrating me. I dared not tell the house mistress because her son was also doing the same. This continued for every holiday visit I had with the house mistress.
Back in the school, I was having a huge share of rape. The school consisted of primary and secondary school. Students of other secondary schools were also boarding students of that same school. Aside from the original students who were borders, the school was also a hostel for other secondary school students.
A few of the students were also taking advantage of me. They would take me to the bathroom and rape me. They would also cross my path and drag me to the bush and rape me. At this time, I was already emotionless. It had happened too many times for me to cry or struggle with them. I would just lay there while they did their thing. I would stand up after they were done and go my way. This rape was going on almost every day. Often times, it happened more than twice a day either when I was at the school or in the house mistress’s house.
To be continued……..
Frederick Abiola-Cudjoe
Frederick Abiola Cudjoe is a blogger, content creator who is in service to Arogi Trauma Care Foundation. He is solution driven and result oriented. He has a strong passion to always make clients have the best customer service experience.
