A Nigerian school hires a SAN to defend a teacher against a 3 y/old's accusation of sexual impropriety.
When I read that headline, I felt a heavy ball drop in my stomach. A potpourri of pain, incandescent rage, horror etc.
I have been there. I was 3.
Someone said, "He's such a good Christian man. Very dedicated church worker. Loves his kids."
I was 3 and I've never forgotten.
My saving grace, just as this child, was that I spoke quite well, have the memory of..
This was in the 80s.
He was our caregiver. Early twenties, smart (according to the adults around me), hard working, caring, etc.
I don't remember much before then. But I distinctly remember the day it began.
"Do you know what this is?" the Molester asked, pointing at my vulva and my brother's penis.
"It's our wee wee," I immediately replied.
"Do you know what it's used for?" he asked.
"To wee wee," I replied, confused
"It has another use," he said. "Don't worry, one day, I'll show you."
I remember wanting to ask my mother what other use there was for our "wee wee." But child that I was, I forgot.
I don't know the timeline of this supposed grooming of his.
But I remember the day he made his move.
"Baby," he said, shaking me awake. Only my dad calls me baby. I thought it was him. So, I opened my eyes.
My father was the best fun daddy....
When I opened my eyes and saw who it was, I closed them again. In my head I was a bit puzzled as to why he'd call me baby.
He lifted me from the bed and carried me to the lobby, where we had our....
I can still hear the sound of the chair scraping the floor as he pulled it out and sat down. Then he lowered me from his shoulder, spread my legs and sat me across his crotch.
"Baby, wake up," he said.
I cannot forget how he said, "Baby wake up. I want to show you love."
That was when he pushed me slightly away from himself, reached down, pulled down the zip on his trousers and brought out his penis.
I remember, because it was way bigger than my brother's.
I cannot describe it.
It was bad. Worse than when I fell down and scraped my knee. Worse than anything before.
"I'm sorry my baby. But it's paining you because you're not opening for me. Open your legs."
These words were accompanied by a further spreading of my legs. Even that, hurt.
"Stop! It's still paining me," I said and started crying.
He said he was sorry and told me not to cry. Kept on saying, "Please open for me. Just open for me."
"I'm opening but it's painful," I cried.
I stopped because the hurt was stopping. He took me back to bed.
But she always had time to talk to us. Always asked how our day...
She was in the kitchen chopping up tomatoes. I walked in and quietly stood beside her.
"Nsido?" she asked. "What is it?"
"Mummy, what can we use our wee wee for?"
She turned and looked at me. "To pee, of course. What kind of question is that?"
I can still hear the echo in the kitchen as the knife she held clanged on the table.
"Today, he put his wee wee in my wee wee. Mummy, it was paining me. So I told him to stop."
I can't remember her expression, but can still feel the tremble in her hands as she turned, knelt before me, held my upper arms and said, "What did you just say?"
By now, she was shaking like a leaf in the wind.
"He....he.... Oh God! I'm finished!" she whispered. "My child oooo!"
I thought I'd done something wrong.
"Mummy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do it."
She said I was brave. "I'm happy you told me."
"You told me to tell you if anyone touches our wee wee," I said.
Unlike her friends, my mother didn't think sex education was too much for her toddlers.
P- Private parts are private.
A - Always remember that your body is yours.
N- No means no.
T- There are no secrets from Mummy.
S - Say something, so I can do something about it.
But I can tell you that two...
That baby's words, "This your bum bum is very sweet," hit a nerve.
That teacher used to tell Edna the same thing while licking her vulva in the locked classroom.
She performed fellatio on that teacher for years. Couldn't tell anyone because her parents were hard as stone.
It was the 80s in Nigeria. People rarely if ever talked about child molestation. That's why it's grown into the monster it is.
Many of these paedophiles are upright citizens of the society.
Yes, children tell tales. But 3 year olds don't tell à story consistently over and over.
Now, let me go find some cold drink and calm my nerves.
I'd have preferred he get one himself, not the school offering the services of the their legal team.
I also hate that many think the child is telling tales. Especially those who've got no experience with children.