chapter 2 Come to feel my pain

Once my mother found out, she couldn't save me. In our culture, there's a saying: "The good child belongs to the father, and the bad child belongs to the mother." Every mother wants to prove that every child born from her is a good child. I can't blame my brother for what happened next, because the man I encountered wasn't good at all.

Here's what took place on that fateful afternoon: My mother had gone to the market, leaving me at home with my siblings, all of us engaged in our chores. This man, a worker from our community, always sought me out whenever he saw me. I would usually dart inside to evade his presence. I did my best to avoid encounters with men, but on that particular afternoon, fate had a different plan.

We didn't have a fence around our building, and that worked to his advantage. He approached me, handsome and confident, and engaged me in conversation. I couldn't believe his sweet words and his seemingly genuine interest in me. He led me to a hidden corner, where he continued his charade. I fell for his trap, oblivious to the fact that my younger brother had spotted us and was watching from a distance. Despite his age, he sensed something amiss.

Suddenly, the man trapped me. He forcefully locked his lips with mine, and I wanted to scream for help, but my brother's voice cut through the air, calling my name several times. It was as if he pretended not to notice us. My brother's intervention freed me from the man's grip. I managed to break away and flee, although I pleaded with my brother to understand what had transpired.

But the story didn't end there. My mother eventually learned about my encounter and labeled it as my "dirty act." The punishment that followed was unimaginable. I was subjected to something called "monkey's cigarettes," where I had to stand on one leg and suck on my finger. I endured standing like that for hours. Then, I was forced to sit on the floor, my back against an object, while a burning charcoal was placed near my thighs. The pain was excruciating, and my father showed no mercy.

My mother pleaded with him, regretting ever sharing the news with him. My brother blamed himself for not intervening sooner, and he still carries that guilt. The torment didn't end there. I was beaten with a wire, the blows relentless until I was covered in blood. The memories of that day haunt me, a day where I lost more than just my innocence.

I don't assign blame to anyone. I don't blame my parents, my brother, or even that man. Instead, I want you to feel my pain. We'll reconnect in the upcoming chapters, where I'll continue sharing my story. Thank you for dedicating your time to read my words. Please remember to comment and vote for the author, and feel free to share what you've learned from my brief account.

Sending you chills and warmth,

With love,