This is my diary. I am a paedophile, and I won’t deny it. I won’t introduce myself to you as you probably know my name, and might be familiar with my origins. I promise to be as simple as I can in explaining my actions and inactions. But before we go any further, you may however wish to forgive my vulgarity, if you come across it. If you take a stroll into my history you will see that I have always enjoyed the glamour of demonizing the faith that I proclaim to practice; Islam. Some years back when I was in charge of the affairs of my home state in northern Nigeria, I declared the Islamic Sharia law. At the time I did so, I was aware that my declaration of the law was highly problematic.

I knew that I couldn’t declare the Sharia law for Allah’s sake but for the sake of realizing some parochial reasons best known to me. Before Sharia as a law can be declared in any jurisdiction, certain precursors must be set, and these include ensuring that the society is reasonably promising enough for Sharia law to thrive easily; in such a condition that minimises inflicting unnecessary detriments on citizens. I remember a story during the reign of the second caliph of Islam, Umar bin Khattab. It was a story of a woman who came to the caliph and said “I was thirsty and I asked a shepherd to give me water to drink but he refused unless I lay with him so I did.” The caliph then asked Ali bin Abu Talib “what is your view on her?” And Ali replied, “I think she was pushed by necessity.” With Ali’s pronouncement, Umar only gave her a few lashes of the cane and allowed her to go.

In my own case, as the caliph of my state where I declared the Sharia law under problematic circumstances, I turned a blind eye to the fact that my people’s faults could have been driven by necessity knowing that I never did anything to see to the alleviation of their poverty despite the billions of naira I received on a continuous basis from the central government in Abuja. Unlike Umar bin Khattab, I refused to give a “few lashes of the cane” to the poor people under me who without doubt, were pushed by necessity to commit certain crimes. I amputated the hand of one Bello Buba Jangebe for stealing a mere cow; but in our world, we as politicians have stolen more than just a cow, but who could have amputated us? I even wanted to stone two women to death for adultery, unjustifiably. Save for international interventions that came to the rescue of these ladies, I would have succeeded in stoning them to death.

What was important to me at the time was that because I never intended to declare the Sharia law for Allah’s sake but for some self-seeking reasons, I wouldn’t pretend that I didn’t enjoy the limited but tangible national and international fame that my problematic position on Sharia law has afforded me. Part of the fame that I got was that I was treated as a hero of the Islamic faith anytime I travelled to some Muslim countries. I may also have received ample rewards in cash and kind from these Muslim countries that saw me as a champion and true representative of my faith. My tenure as caliph of my state has since been over, and I have moved on with my life; determined to cause more contusion to not only the people of my state, but my country in total.

A few years ago, I went to Egypt where I found a thirteen-year-old girl and married her. People have said that I paid an extravagant sum of US $100,000 to the poor parents of the girl as dowry. I do not intend to refute this. I knew very well that the Egyptian family wouldn’t have problems giving me the hand of their under-aged girl in marriage because they must be aware that as a big man that I am in my country, the circumstance of me becoming their son-in-law is a promise of continuous financial support for their poor family.
Of course I am not a novice when it comes to women; I can’t feign that I do not know how it feels to lay with a woman.

I have children; a conclusive indication that I have been “there” before. But you know sometimes as men we love to diversify our sexuality. We become bored of our women at home who get weary by the day. After years of marriage, the once “firmed-up” endowments loosen. With time we get frustrated as we rapidly loose that satisfying “tight grip” of former times, each time we lay with them. The pleasurable moments of yesteryears are gone. Some amongst us have decided to resign ourselves and be content with the half-measured pleasures that now confront us each time we lay with our partners of the days of old. But for me I couldn’t resign to this fate; hence my Egyptian adventure.

Egyptian ladies are beautiful, no doubt. They have long hairs and noses, fair skins and curved bodies, and most times well endowed especially around the chest area. Beyond that I only chose a thirteen year old as a wife as I am assured that I would not only see her grow these bodily endowments before my very eyes, I would equally enjoy to the fullest, the desires for laying with her over a very long time interval. She is only thirteen; her body would still be durable for many years to come. More importantly, although my marriage to this girl of thirteen is at best shameless, and would raise so many questions, my religion is here to defend me. Whenever I am confronted I will repeat my favourite trite that “history tells us that Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) did marry a young girl as well.” I will tell them “therefore I have not contravened any law.” There couldn’t be any religion so magical than this one that I subscribe to; it comes to my aid always, isn’t it?

Progressively more, as I live in a country that is overly sensitive to religious inclinations, the mere mention of the name of my prophet (PBUH) finalises the debate. Only those who want their heads cut off would dare question my actions, or me as I am only being dutiful to the traditions of my religion. But I know I am only fooling myself. Deep in my heart, I am aware that I am doing injustice to my religion and I am being unfair to the noble traditions of the prophet (PBUH); the best of mankind. If I really want to follow the example of the prophet (PBUH), I know that this is not the way to go. If I am being honest to the prophet’s tradition, like the prophet (PBUH), my first wife should have been older than me by at least fifteen years. Like the prophet (PBUH), I should have lived with her alone for at least 25 years or until the end of her life. When she dies, I should then marry a divorcee who has many children. After her, I can, like the prophet (PBUH), marry a virgin, and then follow that with two widows of war.

I understand that the idea of polygamy itself as practiced by the prophet (PBUH) is clearly spelt out in Quran 4:3: “And if ye fear that ye will not deal fairly with the orphans, marry of the women who seem good to you, two, three, or four. And if ye fear that ye will not deal justly then marry one only.” I may not be an expert on Quranic hermeneutics, but I can safely explain this verse without necessarily missing the point. The Quran has given us a permissible maximised limit of marrying between one and four wives as a “quantitative limit”; it, on the other hand, based the context of polygamy on—“qualitative limit”—of orphans. It is therefore clear to me that Allah (SWT) has permitted us men to marry widows as second, third, and fourth wives for the sole reason of providing a home and care for orphans. This was what the prophet (PBUH) did when he married widows. I have never considered marrying widows who have orphaned children. I therefore admit that the polygamy I chose to adhere to is fraught with guilt.

Am I really being honest to the traditions of the prophet (PBUH)? No I am not. For the most part, as someone who is not a prophet, I know that I am being stupid if I do not set boundaries for myself when I follow the ways of the prophet (PBUH). First and foremost he is the prophet (PBUH) I am not. As prophet (PBUH) he was permitted by Allah (SWT) to marry up to nine wives. I am told not to exceed four. The prophet (PBUH) had married Aisha bint Abu Bakr at the age of six, and the marriage was said to have been consummated at the age of nine but without incidence of Vesicovaginal fistula! I am sure that no Vesicovaginal fistula would dare come the way of the prophet’s wife as she is the prophet’s wife! But I am me not a prophet, and my wife is my wife, not a prophet’s wife. She therefore doesn’t have prophetic armour against contracting Vesicovaginal fistula. But then again, like I said, I know all these, but I do not care. I am a paedophile, and I know it!

Superbly written

Please release more chapters