Confusion and doubts

I'm lying in bed, feeling miserable. I cannot remember any clear warning signs. I did not stub my left big toe that week.

 Neither did I hear the owl hoot in the night among the trees. But I did wake up drenched in sticky sweat one morning. By ten o'clock I was burning up with fever and shaking with chills. 

From the way my body ached and from the bitter taste in my mouth, I knew I had malaria. Because of my AA genotype, I was prone to malarial attacks. Eniola had Daddy's AS genotype, so she was lucky. She fell sick maybe once a year.

My sickness could not have come at a more inconvenient time. Daddy's older sister, "Aunty Ade" eldest daughter was getting married in Abuja on the weekend. Aunty Ade had left Lagos the week before so that she could help her daughter as the mother of the bride prepare for the wedding. Mummy, Eniola , and I were to leave that afternoon for Abuja — Daddy was away on a business trip. Uncle Peter had told Mummy that he did not want to attend the wedding, so he was staying behind at home.

Mummy quickly started me on chloroquine tablets. I was not sure what I hated more, the bitterness of the pills or the ache in my bones. When Mummy found me shivering, she looked as if she was unsure what to do. Eniola was in the bridal

train as one of the flower girls. She had to take Eniola to the wedding, but how could she leave a sick child at home

When Uncle Pete said he would take care of me, I saw the reluctance in Mummy's eyes. But I knew how much Eniola always wanted to be a flower girl, and I reminded Mummy that our neighbour Mrs Patricia was also around if I needed help. Mummy seemed relieved. She said she would ask Mrs Patricia to visit the house and promised that they would leave for Lagos immediately after the wedding reception. "We will be gone only one night," she said gently before they left.

At night I felt slightly better, took some drugs, ate and had my bathe. I changed into my night wear. I smiled, remembering Eniola's excitement earlier in the day as they left for Ilorin. It was the first time she would be in a bridal train. I realized then how much I missed her constant chatter. This was also the first time we were spending the night apart. I reassured myself that Mummy and Eniola would be back the next day.

Uncle Peter is supposed to be taking care of me, but so far, he's been pretty useless. He's been sitting on the couch, watching TV, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer.

As the night wears on, I start to feel more and more uncomfortable. Uncle Peter keeps coming into my room, supposedly to check on me, but really just to hover around me and make me feel uneasy.

As the hours pass, Uncle Peter's behavior becomes more and more erratic. He's slurring his words and stumbling around the room.

I'm starting to feel scared. I don't know what Uncle Peter is capable of when he's like this.

Suddenly, Uncle Peter stumbles into my room and collapses onto my bed. He's right next to me, his face inches from mine.

I try to push him away, but he's too heavy. He's pinning me down, his breath hot on my face.

"Uncle Peter, get off me!" I shout, trying to struggle free.

But Uncle Peter just laughs. He's got a weird, creepy grin on his face.

"You're so pretty, Kate," he slurs. "You're so pretty and smart."

I'm starting to feel panicked. I don't know what Uncle Peter is going to do. 

Then, angry and betrayed, I sank my teeth deep his palm, determined to bite out a chunk of flesh. Uncle Peter immediately clamped his other hand tightly around my throat. I gasped. He leaned over and whispered harshly into my ear, his breath sour with beer and cigarette. "Stop this nonsense or I will break your little neck. It is time a real man makes you a woman before one of your little boyfriends tries and spoils you for good."

Inside my head a shrill voice screamed. What little boyfriends'?

Uncle P forced his tongue into my mouth, and I gagged. I could taste alcohol and cigarettes. But the hand pressed firmly around my neck did not allow me to throw up. Desperate to free myself, I struggled under his weight.

My teeth finally caught his ear lobe and I bit him hard, uncle p yelled holding his ear, it was bleeding. His eyes turned red immediately, I could already sense his anger. Immediately I could think of what next to do to escape, uncle Peter slapped me hard on my face, i could see stars, I felt my the back of my eyes burn with tears.

Almost suddenly uncle Peter was on top of me again. I stilled my thrashing limbs. I heard the metal rings of the bed creak as Uncle Peter stretched out his long, heavy body on top of mine. One of his hands roughly pushed up my nightwear. As he moved on top of me, my chest tightened. I felt as if I was suffocating. He pushed his hand between my thighs. When he ripped apart my underwear, my body shook. I needed to scream, but I could hardly breathe. When he lifted his mouth from mine, all I could do was squeak. His warm breath fanned my face and his glazed eyes shone in the dark.

My legs were thrown apart. I felt a sharp pain go right through my centre. As Uncle Peter pushed into my unwelcoming body, my spirit floated high up to the ceiling. Looking down, I saw a child with a familiar face on the bed below. Her terror- filled eyes stared away into nothingness, her mouth open wide in a silent scream.

Then, as quickly as I had left that trembling body, I was back inside. I felt a pain deep, deep inside me. Uncle Peter panted and grunted for an eternity, until he suddenly jerked and then was still. Without one word he got up from my bed, pulled on his trousers, and staggered out of the room.

I lay there shaking, my eyes filled with tears that refused to flow. My throat was on fire. My bruised lips trembled. I whimpered.

"Mummy ..."

I called again. But she was not there. I was alone in the dark of the room. A tear rolled down the side of my face. Others followed. I was terrified that Uncle Peter would change his mind and come back again. I wanted to drag myself out of bed and lock the door, but my legs refused to move.

I could not move.

From the corner of my right eye, I saw something pale dash across the ceiling. It was a wall gecko. It stood, as if transfixed to the spot, staring and slowing nodding its head as if to tell me that everything was going to be okay. I am not sure how long I stared back until, mercifully, sleep took me. It came and took me away to a safe, happy place. A place with Eniola.

"Christine, Christine" I found her! I found her!" Eniola shouted, clapping her hands with excitement. It was a beautiful sunny day and we were playing hide-and- seek in our grandfather's compound. Laughing, I pulled away from her grasp, running into the large corn field beside the house. When I glanced back I saw that Eniola was not running after me. She was waiting for our playmate Christine to catch up.

Giggling, I ran between the long cornstalks and hid in the middle of the field. I could feel the hot sun's rays shining right onto the middle of my head, melting the heavy pomade used to grease the lines in my woven hair. I was sure that it would take Eniola and Christine some time to find where I was. Then I heard something hissing behind me.

My blood instantly ran cold. I slowly turned around to find a black-necked spitting cobra. Staring open-mouthed at the snake, I noticed that there was something very peculiar about it. While the cobra had the body of a snake, it had a familiar face. Uncle P.I screamed.

From a distance, I heard Eniola shouting my name. "Kate, where are you? What is wrong?Kate, please, where are you?"

The snake reared its head and dug its fangs into the fleshy part of my leg. I felt myself falling, falling into a deep and endless hole.

I bolted up in bed. My heart pounded hard against my rib cage. Looking around at the familiar yellow walls of my bedroom, I realized that I had been dreaming. The early morning sunlight streamed into the room through the sheer window curtains.

I felt a strange stiffness in my lower body. For a moment, my mind was blank. Then I looked up and I saw the wall gecko. It was still staring down from that same spot on the ceiling. Memories of the night came rushing back. Suddenly, I felt nauseated. I squeezed my eyes shut, and when I opened them again the gecko was gone.

I dragged myself to the door, listening for any sounds. All I could hear was the grandfather clock in the sitting room. I slowly undressed, wrapped myself in a towel, and then gathered up my torn underwear, my nightgown, and the bloodstained bedsheet. I quietly opened my bedroom door. Uncle Peter's door was wide open but I did not see him. I was alone in the house.

Walking stiffly to the bathroom, I threw my clothes into a metal bucket. I needed to wash them, but first I needed a bath. I had to wash his taste and smell off me.

After a long cold bath, I dragged myself to the balcony to wash my clothes. I sat on a little wooden stool under the orange tree beside the house. My chest tightened as I stared at the bloodstains on the clothes. The more I scrubbed them, the brighter they grew. I scrubbed furiously at the red spots until my fingers became raw from the caustic soda soap.

"Kate"

Startled, I jerked around. I almost fell off my low wooden stool.

Our neighbor Mrs Patricia stood behind me. I had not heard her come in through the side gate. "How are you feeling this morning?" Her daughter Favour was strapped snuggled to her back. Favour plucked a thumb out of her mouth and gave me a gummy smile.

I stood up, giving Favor a weak smile in return. "Good morning ma" I greeted. "I am better. I think the fever has finally gone."

To my horror, I realized Mrs Patricia was staring at the reddish tint of the soapy water. She smiled at me with a kind look. "I am happy to hear you are feeling better, Kate. I will come and see you later."

Watching her walk away, I wondered why she smiled. Was it just me, or was the world turning upside down.^ As I hung the clothes on the line, my stomach suddenly heaved and I doubled over, vomiting in the long grass.

Thankfully, Uncle Peter was not yet back when I went inside. I curled up on the settee in the sitting room and soon fell asleep.

I woke up to loud knocking on the front door. My heart began racing again —but settled when I heard a familiar voice call out. "Kate, it's me, Mrs Patricia."

I opened the door. She held a wicker basket and a striped black-and-white polythene bag. She set the basket on the dining table and brought out two half-filled plastic containers. One had cooked Jollof rice and fried mackerel. All the while. Mrs Patricia was talking softly. "I am sure you must be feeling some discomfort. It is very natural. I remember my own first time. You will probably need to take some Panadol. It gets easier after each episode, and it is something every woman has to go through."

I looked at her in confusion.

Mrs Patricia handed me the polythene bag. Looking inside, I finally understood. The bag held a pack of sanitary pads.

''Ma ... Mrs Patricia ...," I stammered, unsure of what to say. ''Thank you, Ma."

"It is nothing, my dear." She smiled, patting my shoulder. "I could tell from the way you looked this morning that it was your first time. I was not sure if your mother had any pads in the house, so I brought you these. Have you eaten yet.> Did you take your medicine this morning.^"

"No, Ma."

The truth was that I was not even sure I could force any food down my throat today.

Mrs Patricia frowned. "That is not good now. How are you going to get better if you don't eat?" She pulled out a dining chair. "sit down and eat some rice."

To please her, I sat down and forced two spoons of rice into my mouth. She patted me gently on the shoulder. "Try and eat everything, you hear.> I will come back and check on you later."

As soon as Mrs Patricia left, I laid down my spoon. I was not hungry, but I was touched by Mama Patricia's generosity. She and her husband worked hard and sometimes had only enough to feed Favour.

Sighing, I stood up and carried the uneaten plate of rice to the kitchen. Late in the afternoon, I heard a car honking at the gate. Daddy was back!

Jumping up, I ran out of the house. When I opened the gate I saw it was Mummy and Eniola arriving in a brown-and-yellow taxicab. A shrieking Eniola flew out of the car and ran towards me. "Kate! We are back," she said as she put her arms around my neck. "Mummy brought you some goodies. Can I have some?" Laughing, I shook my head.

Looking at her glowing face, I could tell that Eniola the taxicab when Daddy's car pulled into the compound.

Not too long after, Uncle Peter arrived in front of the house on an motorcycle and from the look on his face, he was clearly not sure ot the reception that would be waiting for him. When he walked in through the gate and saw Mummy's smile, he prostrated flat on the ground, greeting Mummy and Daddy.

I picked up Mummy's travelling bag and quickly walked towards the house. Uncle Peter picked up Daddy's suitcase and followed. Catching up with me, he casually draped his arm across my shoulder. I froze. With our backs to the rest, he leaned closer and whispered, "Listen, if you say anything to your mom, you will be responsible for what happens to Eniola."

Jerking my head around, I studied his face. He looked blankly at me and continued inside the house. That afternoon, at every moment, Uncle Peter seemed to hover a few steps between me and Mummy. When I followed Mummy into the kitchen, he followed to get a soft drink. When Mummy asked me to bring her some water, Uncle Peter sat close by her in the sitting room until I returned. When Mommy and I sat at the back of the house shelling melon seeds, Bros T came outside to weed Mummy's vegetable garden.

Later we all sat in the sitting room, listening to Eniola and Mummy talk about the wedding. I was thinking about what Uncle p had said. Would he go into her room too.^ I could not let such a thing happen to Eniola.. That kind of horror—it would kill her.

From then on, I watched Eniola and Uncle Peter like a hawk. When Daddy was not home, Uncle Peter would pull Eniayo onto his lap— "Come here, my little wife!"—all the while looking at me with that curious smile. Some days I would hear them giggling in his bedroom while I stood in the corridor with my heart beating in my mouth.

Uncle Peter stayed away from my room for two months. Just when I began telling myself that perhaps the horror was over. He came back one night. Daddy and Mummy were upstairs in their room and Eniola had gone to her room to sleep. He did it to me again and again. He even started calling me to his room during the afternoon as Eniola played right outside his window.

During those months, I kept waiting'for Mummy to notice something different about me. A different way of walking. A new scent. Had she not said that she could smell a boy's touch on me.>

One day Mummy found me standing in the corridor leading to Uncle Peter's bedroom. He was calling my name. "Kate, Kate, please come and help me find something under the bed."

I stood where I was. "Find it yourself," I mumbled.

Mummy heard me. "Kate! What kind of behaviour is that.> Go to yout uncle's room right now and see what he wants." Shaking her head, she watched me drag my reluctant feet to his room before climbing the stairs When I entered his room, Bros T pushed me roughly onto his bed. "So you think you can escape from me.>"

That day, I felt a deep anger towards Mummy start to bubble inside of me.

Two months later, I had my first menstrual period. I did not tell Mummy. I still had the sanitary pads Mrs Patricia gave me, and Mummy was not going to notice anyway, I told myself. But I was wrong. This time, she did notice. That afternoon. Mummy walked into the kitchen. "Kate.,when you are done washing those plates, please come to my room. I want to talk to you."

She was sitting on her bed when I came in. "Kate, I saw a bloodstain on your nightgown this morning. Has your period come?"

"Yes, Ma," I answered quietly.

"When.>" She looked puzzled. "Why didn't you tell me? What have you been using?

I kept quiet.

Mummy sighed and sat me down on the bed beside her. She repeated the same instructions Mrs Patricia had given me about changing the pads. Then, moving closer, she added one more instruction with a very serious look. "Kate, listen carefully. This is very important. You must not let any boy at school touch you. If they do, you will get pregnant. Do you understand.^"

I nodded. "Yes, Ma."

"Please, my daughter, don't bring disgrace to our family's name."

I almost burst out into bitter laugher. I wanted to tell her she did not have to worry about the boys at school.

That day, to celebrate my transition into womanhood. Mummy asked Uncle Peter to kill one of her prized chickens for our nightly meal. On another night I might have waved that chicken drumstick in a victory dance while basking in the warmth of Mummy's affection—and Eniola's envy!—but that night I ate the drumstick in silence. It was like eating moulded sawdust.

The following night, when Uncle P came to my room and touched my body, he drew back quickly. He made a disgusted noise and left. I smiled in the darkness as he closed the door behind him. I discovered that there was something good about becoming a woman after all.

My reprieve was short-lived. Uncle P came back on many other nights. Only he now used a condom. Nothing else changed.