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Gaya

This is certainly the worst thing that has ever happened to me. Not just the assault, but the fact that every other day, seeing the man who scarred me permanently live a free and “happy married life” with my favourite aunty makes me relive the trauma. And before you even ask, yes, I tried to stop her…but honestly, can I even blame her for not listening?

So, for context, I am a <a href="https://aura.ng/the-streets/-i-don-t-want-kids-and-i-m-tired-of-explaining-myself-a-nigerian-woman-tells-us-why">miracle baby</a>. My parents had been married for 21 years before they had me. Thankfully for them, they were both 29 when they got married, so they weren’t too old when I finally came. And considering the circumstances surrounding my birth—two failed IVFs coupled with plenty of insults—they pampered me silly.

At the time of my birth, my mum’s youngest sibling—my Aunty Chika—was living with us. My mum had trained her and raised her as her own daughter ever since they got married. Actually, she was even their little bride. So, you can imagine the age difference between them.

And so, I grew up calling her “Aunty Chika”, but because my mum called her her daughter, I told all my friends she was my big sister. And whose childish brain could analyse the family tree at the tender age of six? Definitely not mine or my friends’.

As much as my parents pampered me, I hardly got along with my mum. I felt like she didn’t understand me, so I related more with Aunty Chika and became very fond of her because I could tell her everything, including my new crushes and the first time I kissed a boy in Grade Four.

My mum was very dismissive of any conversation relating to sex, and I can still vividly remember her words to me the first day I saw my period. She said, “Now, you must stop playing with boys. Because if a boy touches you anyhow, you can get pregnant.”

In hindsight, I understand that she said that to scare me because I was quite “loose” as a child. I didn’t really care much to carry myself as a lady, even though I was plump and started growing breasts earlier than all my classmates. But contrary to her intentions, the ambiguity of her statement and how dismissive she was of my questions only pushed my curiosity elsewhere.

Aunty Chika, on the other hand, entertained my questions. But she didn’t give me as much advice as I ought to have received. Of course, she told me sex was only for married people, but she was in a phase of her life where she indulged in everything she would warn me about. And I knew she wasn’t married.

She also snuck out at times and made me promise not to tell my parents. So, our bond grew around keeping each other’s secrets, because I would do the same.

When the man she is currently married to started coming around the house, my mum was very uncomfortable, partly because of his tribe, Edo. But marriage was a very sensitive topic for Aunty Chika because she was well advanced in age by then and still unmarried—a <a href="https://aura.ng/the-streets/the-nigerian-marriage-checklist-nobody-talks-about-but-everyone-uses">“taboo”</a> in Igbo land. So, out of desperation, my mother kept most of her reservations to herself and would just advise Aunty Chika to shine her eyes.

He was quite well-to-do and joined Aunty Chika in allowing me to do things my parents didn’t agree to because I was too young and they were trying to protect me. So, obviously, I gravitated towards him.

Suddenly, he became my chauffeur and started offering to pick me up from school. Actually, my closing time coincided with his, and since he was mostly headed to our house to see Aunty Chika before proceeding home, why not? At least, that’s what we all thought…including my parents. I am sure they also saw it as an opportunity to warm up to him and make him feel accepted.

Sometimes, I blame myself because the signs were always there. After a short while, I began to notice that he made a lot of sensual jokes with me. He would tease me about my body, but instead of just calling me chubby like I was used to hearing, he’d joke about specific parts of my body and even ‘jokingly’ touch me inappropriately.

But I couldn’t really tell his humour and perversion apart because he did some of these things in front of Aunty Chika and she just laughed.

Whether she actually ever noticed and warned him in private, I don’t know. I just know that he began to take advantage of our drives home and started branching off to other places with me before we got home.

The very first day it happened, he said he had forgotten his charger cord at home. And considering that, at the time, he was the only person using an iPhone that I knew, his reason felt justified. He needed to go back home for it because he would be in my house till night and his battery was already low.

But then, it became a routine. Before I knew it, he’d say he didn’t want me to wait in the car and convince me to come down. After he was done molesting me “playfully”, he’d take me to buy ice cream, pizza or shawarma and make me promise not to tell anybody what had happened.

<a href="https://aura.ng/the-streets/the-survivor-s-guide-immediate-steps-after-rape-in-nigeria">It happened</a> several times between the ages of 11 and 13, and unfortunately for me, my dad got a transfer at the time. So, he became the only viable option to pick me up from school, since both my mum and Aunty Chika couldn’t drive and there was no car to even drive.

Whenever I tried to wriggle out of it, my mum claimed the country was too unsafe to allow me to take public transport or follow any school bus. I almost pity her for trying to protect me, unaware of the monster within.

At the same time, wedding preparations were beginning to pick up, and my mother’s family had finally accepted him. So, to me, telling Aunty Chika would mean shattering the dream she had prayed and fasted for for years.

In fact, even when they had issues and he said really horrible things to her—and one time even hit her—I tried to capitalise on that to dissuade her from him and convince her that he was a terrible person. But she wouldn’t listen. She made excuses for him and kept malice with me for three days.

Everything, including how averse my mum was to talking about sex, further pushed me into my own demons. I began sleeping around, and my justification became that I had already lost my virginity against my will. So, what else was there to protect?

Three years ago, they got married. My mum still thinks it was her village people that made me extremely sick at a time that was supposed to be the happiest days of our lives, but I just couldn’t stand the whole thing.

I couldn’t stomach the thought that the demon who stole my innocence was getting married to my dearest aunt and the closest thing I had to a sister…a big sister. I fell very ill and was hospitalised for two weeks, during and after the wedding ceremonies.

I felt like I had failed Aunty Chika by not successfully stopping the marriage from happening. At the same time, I felt deep resentment towards her for bringing him into our lives and for not listening to me. During that period, I even started feeling very resentful towards my own parents for all the circumstances that had led me to where I was.

I am currently pursuing admission in Cyprus, very far from home and everybody I know. Hopefully, starting my life all over again will help me heal. But until I gain admission, I’m stuck pretending and perpetually sacrificing my happiness for a paedophile.

At 11, she was sexually assaulted by someone she knew. Years later, that person became her brother-in-law. This is her story of living with the aftermath.


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