THE TIME MAGAZINE REVELATION

I came across the Time magazine cover themed ‘The Silence Breakers’ and a part of me lit up in ways I have not in a while.It was nice to see how sexual harassment and molestation was a topic not lightly dealt with and the need to take it seriously caused a lot of well respected men their jobs and societal regard. Not like that excited me, but the seriousness of the situation and the deliberate effort to bring culprits to justice gave me tremendous joy as this has been a lying dog for way too long. I was happy how social media brought us together to fight for a cause that I have unconsciously been so passionate about, I was even happier that A-list celebrities came to the fore-front to tell their stories, especially to an international audience. It was a revolution to behold. However, as a Nigerian living in Africa well aware of the peculiarity of the situation, and how rampant it is over here, I wished we had such a driving force pioneering the same issue.

Just seeing that cover, it brought back suppressed memories of many things I had thought I let go of and even developed temporary amnesia about. It took me back to the first time I was violated, it was my primary school teacher, Mr Tope. At my very young age of 10, maybe 11, he felt it would be best for him to rob me of my very much anticipated first kiss by scarring me with a kiss I never forgot, a kiss I never asked for, a kiss he forced upon me and continued to throw in my face every end of Common Entrance revision class, until he got tired of my resistance and probably found someone new to place his focus on.

Then I moved to secondary school and it was a rainy day with male classmates and sexual harassment,starting with Emeka, the oldest boy in class who tormented me for almost a year by rubbing my thighs every day, threatening to ‘expose’ me if I never came to the back of the school building whenever he asked me to meet him there. In retrospect, what he was going to ‘expose’?, but at the time, a part of me felt culpable and could not even tell anyone the dilemma I felt daily because my older classmate blackmailed me and I felt like a helpless 11 year old. Let’s not talk about Femi and Austin who took turns to rub my thighs and grab my butt (to put it lightly) whenever anyone was not looking, yet still find a way to bully me in front of the whole class. I remember when a senior had paired me and Femi to be seat partners and I kept crying and begging not to be seat partners with him. Emeka’s scenario kept playing in my mind and I did not want to relieve that, it would have damaged me(it probably already did but I refuse to accept that). The senior (Arthur) kept asking me why and I could not tell him, not sure if it was shame or the fear of not knowing how it would sound, either way, my tears found a way to make an impact and Arthur changed my seat to whomever I ended up sitting next to.

Coming back home, there was Uncle Emeka who was dating aunty Agatha, his sister was a close family friend which in turn made him a close family friend, and as nice as aunty Agatha was to my siblings and I, I never understood why Uncle Emeka would call me to his room, rub my body, try to kiss me and frustrate me for not caving into his shenanigans. Imagine my fear whenever my mum would say, ‘go and give this to Mama Chinaza’, and on getting there, Uncle Emeka was there and he would say, ‘Vanessa, please come and help me look at this’. I dealt with that on my own until I no longer could and I made the decision to stop going there, thankfully my mother had a fall out with Mama Chinaza and I finally had a good reason not to ever see Uncle Emeka.

The most traumatizing situation would probably be our next door neighbor whom my mother took keen interest in his newly wed bride, she was older and my mother had a soft spot for women who looked like they were struggling in their marriages, not sure how she spotted them though. The next door neighbor was a good looking man in his 30s, he worked at a reputable company, he was mysterious a man of few words and very respectable in the compound. He was definitely not the conventional child molester.

The first day ‘Uncle’ asked me to come to his room and help him pack something, we started to have a conversation about politics, he knew my mind was intellectually needy and he fed on that. We talked about a lot of things and while in the middle of that he brought me unto his laps, kissed me and put his hand under my top as he caressed my almost non-existent 13 year old breasts. I was shocked,I wanted to pull away but he held me back and told me ‘I want to make you a woman’. I was unsure what that meant but I was incapacitated to know how to handle that. After praying that someone will be looking for me, his wife called out to me, I ran to respond and in turn went to my house to process, but that was just the beginning of ‘Uncle’s’ molestation. It became so usual that I had known the cycle and asked my siblings to tell him I was not around whenever to he came to ask of me.

One day, he came looking for me himself after it looked like I was avoiding him and instead he saw my closest friend who was staying at mine asleep. He tried to do the same to her but she woke and started screaming/crying. He ran out, I ran in and one look at her I could tell what had happened. I begged her to stop crying and tell me what happened, after telling me what had happened, she said words I would never forget, words I will never take from my mind, words I don’t think she remembers saying but they continue to hunt me, she said ‘It was my fault because I left and wasn’t there to protect her’. I was heartbroken. The next set of question centered around ‘Where were you?’ ‘Where did you go?’ how was I supposed to tell her this had been happening to me for months? when even I felt guilty I had a part to play in letting my close friend experience that.

The most recent one which I am not mentally ready to type is what brought all of this back, I had moved on from all these like it was nothing, suppressed the memory like it was non existent, but with all this conversation about #Metoo and the recent occurrence, it took me back to how unhealthy I have been living. Where my depression had stemmed from, where my mood swings started to form and even though this post does not describe these happenings in its entirety, it is the first step to acknowledging a part to me I never really knew existed. It’s been hard and deep but it is a necessary evil I need to confront.

This is one of those moments where I feel ‘Woke’.

Nessa June

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