You
think you have so deeply buried your past then come your friends with diggers
and shovels. -Pidgin Proverb
I always wanted to go to school and get an
education. It was a dream that remained a dream, till I decided to act. My
mother was a seller. No, not a trader or a business woman, a seller. She
started by selling pap, already made. She would hawk it in the mornings from
street to street. I could never believe that people would buy that stuff, but
they did. She would return after about three hours with only a little more than
she expended. I knew life was meant to be more than that, I just knew it. I was
just five years old.
My father was a farmer of some sorts. He had a
small farm on which he planted corn, cassava and beans year in year out. The
yield was not even enough for the family to survive on. Needless to say, we
were poor and uninspired.
None of my parents bothered about putting me in
school. I know that I asked a number of times and their responses were
identical. “Where is the money?” I was being raised as an illiterate, to
continue in the poverty and penury and lack of inspiration of my parents. I
hated it.
I made friends with kids that went to school. I
would ask them to teach me what they knew. I was like a joke to them. They
would laugh at me all day but I learnt what little they knew. The songs they
sang in school, alphabets, numbers, even two-letter word formations.
My mother was always either pregnant or
breastfeeding. She breastfed her kids for two years, or till she discovered she
was pregnant. By the time I was eight, I had four siblings. I went and got
myself a job. I would sweep and do dishes and necessarily be a servant for one
of our wealthiest neighbours and she would toss change at me. Depending on her
mood, sometimes, the change was a good amount. She was the one who gave me
money to get enrolled in school.
My mother complained. She said I was learning
strange things. She had five children and was pregnant with the sixth. She
needed me, I knew she did, but I also needed me. I went and put myself in
Primary One. I was called ‘old mama class one’. I bore it, for such was my lot
in life but I decided that it was not to be long.
I did well in that public school I was enrolled
in, teachers called me 'a breath of fresh air', and the name calling to a large
extent reduced. I flew through the classes. My love and hunger for a better
tomorrow than my parents overcoming.
I graduated and went to a Government Secondary
School. I had to take a number of jobs after school. I was a waiter/cook at a
restaurant. I would cook some meals and still serve customers. I made enough
money to pay my fees and support my family. Mother prayed for me and the
increased cashflow encouraged Father to take up locally brewed gin. The family
became even more chaotic.
I got set back financially in my final year in
Secondary School. Father fell seriously sick, it was a jumble of diagnosis. I
let go of whatever meagre savings I had. He fortunately got better. I was proud
of myself. Father quit alcohol after that and mother started to look at me as
superhuman.
I didn’t have money to pay for my examinations,
JAMB, NECO and WAEC! It was no use telling my parents or asking them for help,
they didn’t even know what those were. I cracked my brain. Then I met Hamdo.
Hamdo was from a wealthy family, he was good
looking and worldly wise. He promised to give me even more than I needed but at
a price. I agreed. On the day I went to collect the money, he forced himself on
me and roughly took away my virginity. I wept uncontrollably. I really wanted
to wait till my wedding night. He apologised profusely and even asked me to
marry him. I left with enough money to pay for WAEC and JAMB not NECO. I decided that I
had only one shot and had to make it count. Hamdo and I became a couple.
I did well in my final examinations, got a score
of 239 in JAMB and made Four Distinctions and Five Credits in WAEC. My family
was proud of me but I doubted that they knew the implication. I got admitted to
Ahmadu Bello University Zaria to study Law.
I had no way to afford the journey to Zaria, let
alone the fees. It was then the deplorable state of my family hit me. I tried
but I couldn’t put it behind me. Hamdo could not raise enough money for me to
go to school. He suggested that I go to school the next year while we tried to
raise the funds needed. My hunger for a future with a meaning would not let me.
I gave in to the pressure and had an affair with
an Igbo Chief that owned a chain of shops, he was quite generous, with his help
I had raised enough money to get to school and at least start my registration.
Hamdo was suspicious of my sudden ability to go to
school. I even felt he was jealous of my success. He did not even bid me farewell on the day of
my journey. I put my past behind me and left that beautiful morning. The sun
came out in all her glory to wish me a good life. My parents proudly bade me
farewell as did my seven younger ones. I had taken my mother to the Matron at
the General Hospital without my father's knowledge for birth control.
I had to make up the rest of my school fees. I realised
that it was easy to raise money in school, cliques upon cliques of ‘big girls’
on campus who lived large and made quality cash on campus. I got drafted in.
Thus I survived on campus. I met men from all
walks of life. I was sought after because I was intelligent. They even said I was
beautiful, but men would say anything to get a girl in bed. I soon moved off
campus, to a flat I shared with two other girls that were never in school. I was
practically living alone in the apartment which was good for business.
My grades were good in school as was my finances. I
was one of those few girls that really lived large in school. I even sent
chunks of money to my parents. I bought Father a motorcycle and gave Mother
enough money to start a proper business. I ensured that I sent money for the
school for my seven siblings every term.
I studied as hard as I worked. I worked most
nights and studied the whole day. In no
time, I got some really high end clients and I didn’t have to work as frequently.
School was a breeze, mostly. I didn’t have to sleep with lecturers to pass my exams,
I just had to read.
I got a job after Law School in one of the leading
Law Firms in the country. I found God and straightened my ways. I became the strict
career woman. No more sleeping around. I still sent money to my parents and my
younger ones even came to visit me during holidays.
I fell in love with my boss’ friend and we had a
great relationship. We got married in a lavish outdoor wedding. It was a-dream-come
true. I got pregnant two months after and gave birth to a most beautiful son. It
was like God saw my pain and struggle and decided to console me.
But my new found peace was short lived. I ran into
Hamdo one day and he was full of tales of woe. His father’s business had run
down and JAMB refused to give him admission to the University. I told him where
I worked and my new status, I saw as his eyed grew wide in greed. He asked me
for some money and I gave him.
He started to blackmail me. What my life had
turned to was too precious to let fall to the wind so I doled out wad after wad
of cash to satisfy him. Alas, I only got in deeper. I paid and paid to keep my
past a secret. Things got to a whole new level when my husband decided to go
into politics. Hamdo demanded N 25
million and I called his bluff. It was the greatest mistake and a most
enlightening one.
Hamdo had pictures upon pictures of me in
compromised positions and situations. I flinched when I saw some of those
pictures. He even had videos. He had list after list of girls on call. I knew
there was no denying it. I was in it, I was in it deep.
I decided to end it all. I thought about my family
and my colleagues, I couldn’t face them finding out scandalously what my craziest
secrets were. I knew that Hamdo and his allies were going to play as dirty as
possible. I decided to take poison and end the misery.
My husband was in a meeting one evening and I had
left my son with one of my colleagues. I sat down and did a lot of mental
calculation. My dad, mum and seven siblings depended on me for survival. I had
promised my younger sister that I would be there for her and life would never
be as hard for her as it was for me. I knew
my father would not live long if he heard of my suicide.
I thought of my husband, who felt the sun and moon
rose in my eyes,he, who loved me unwaveringly, and I thought of my son, living,
growing up without a mother, tossed to one step mom or the other, paying the
price for my cowardice.
I made up my mind. I looked up and saw my husband
staring at me.
“I thought you were
in a meeting.” I said.
“I was. I forgot
something.” He said, nervously. “I’ll just cancel.”
“We need to talk.” I said
and watched his shoulders slump. He sat down opposite me on the table.
“Let’s get it over
with.” He said, morose.
“I used to be a
prostitute back in the day. It was a calculated decision I made to get me
through School. My parents could not even afford to send me to Primary School, it was hopeless.” I blurted out. “I have however made a U turn, I will never go
to that dark place ever again.”
“Is that all?” He
asked. I could see the relief wash over him. “I thought you were going to leave
me. I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”
I looked at him with concern. He probably did not
hear what I said. I could not understand his response.
“Everyone
has a past,” he continued. “I found out about yours before we got married. I love
the woman that you have become and I do not judge you for your past.”
“I’m
being blackmailed. They will come after you now.” I added quickly. I did not
add that I had become broke, trying to hide my story that was an open secret.
“We
may have a problem there.” He replied, pensive.
Then I had a brainwave. “I have a way, but I have
a way.”
We invited all our friends. The last piece of
investment I had, two blocks of 12 room apartments, which I was to sell to pay
off Hamdo and his allies, I had decorated and ribboned up.
After all the ceremony, I got up the podium. “I
used to be a call girl, no, I used to be a prostitute. I did it to pay my way
through the University. If you ask me, if the hands of time are reversed, would
I still go down the same path, I’ll respond, I do not know. Today I have these
rooms furnished, to reform prostitutes. You can live a life of dignity, you can
pursue your dreams and be the best you can be without selling yourself, without
selling your pride and your conscience.” The crowd clapped and cheered. “I
worked hard to have a new life and you can too.”
Pressmen were hungrily clicking away on their
cameras. Everyone wanted to have a piece of me.
The election? My husband won it. They credited his
victory to his wife who was bold and courageous enough to inspire change. They do not know that I acted out of desperation. I have my life back and I will henceforth make the right choices, only the right choices.
Credits; Abu Sapphire Ojonugwa
