An open letter to the girl in her teens by Femi Owolabi
Hello dear,
I know you would have read or heard something like this,
since you assumed this phase of your life. If you will oblige
me, however, I wanna share with you, the story of Bisola,
my friend who should be twenty this November.
Bisola and I met early this year in my neighborhood. You
see, that evening, I was sitting, with a few friends, in front of
my house when Bisola walked past. Her beauty is mesmeric
that our eyes followed her till she walked off the street.
Days later, Bisola and I already got talking. Mind me not, I
am skilled in making new friends that quick. Especially when
the girl is beautiful, just like you, you know?
Bisola is the second of the three children of her parents. Of
course, she wouldn’t agree to my friendship proposal on
time, and when we eventually got talking, she told me of
how she despises the guys in the neighborhood; those guys
who just wanna woo every girl they see walk past. “I will not
allow any guy destroy my future o,” Bisola told me. Let me
confess, at this initial stage of our friendship, my affection
was driven by pure lust. Forgive me, men could just be like
that, sometimes. Bisola was careful. She slapped off my
hand when it rested too much on her shoulder, that
evening I walked her down the street. She repelled every
flirtatious gaze I cast at her.
She came looking for me one day, sometime around mid-
August, and was told I was inside my room. My door was
pointed, and she came knocking. I asked her to come in, but
she was skeptical and asked I come out instead. When I
opened the door and she peeped into my room, she saw my
shelf and marveled. She was attracted by the books,
obviously, and willingly, she stepped into the room. “Are you
the only one reading all these plenty books?” she asked me,
as she knelt by the shelf looking through the titles.
Bisola sat for JAMB this year but she scored low and didn’t
meet the cut-off for a university admission. She was
preparing to re-sit for the examination. I helped her search
through the shelf for an old Economics textbook because
Eco, as she fondly called it, was her preferred course of
study. The gift of that book really meant a lot to her, and
she hugged me, for the first time. That moment when our
hearts got enclosed in a hug, I could feel she’s troubled.
“I have not seen my period,” she let out a sigh, looking into
my eyes. At first, I didn’t know what to say. “You had an
unprotected sex with your boyfriend?” I laced this question
with smiles, hoping she would take it as some witty asides.
“How could you relate such to me?” she was furious, and
she left. And for days, she didn’t answer my calls. I got
angry with myself, you know. I called a friend who is a
doctor, asking her what could be the reason why a month
would go and a girl won’t have her period. I told my friend
to eschew any pregnancy thoughts, because the girl in
question never indulged in sex. My friend used some
medical jargon and then suggested some medicines. The
next time I saw Bisola in the neighborhood, I ran after her,
to show her the names of the medicines that the doctor has
recommended. I wrote the medicines’ names on a sheet of
paper I got from my chest-pocket, and I took her palm and
put the paper in it. She was reluctant in receiving it.
“Femi, can I trust you with something?” she asked, in a
whispering tone. I told her to go ahead. “I had a D & C
abortion in June,” she said. Looking askance at her, I didn’t
know what to respond. “We had sex, my then boyfriend and
I. I discovered the pregnancy in June and I had to quickly
get rid of it,” she continued. Bisola is this smart girl, but I
began to see her naivety, especially when she started telling
me about the boyfriend whom she now hated. It was an
irony; her naivety juxtaposed her seeming smartness.
“You will be fine,” I calmed her, and I furthered with my
enquiries. I was then told that in the cases of some D & C
abortions, it may take about three months before the
patient gets her period. I called Bisola and I told her to
worry not, for her period will come at the expiration of
three months that she had the abortion. We both started
counting down to September 4th when the three months
would elapse.
I was out of town when Bisola called me, that it was the
tenth day of September and no traces of her period. I, too,
got overwhelmed with worries. “Let me go back to where I
had the D & C in June and asked why this,” she suggested,
and I agreed with her. She left her Lagos home for
somewhere in Ibadan, without telling anyone what she was
up to, except me. She consistently begged me not to reveal
this to anyone, even when the worries seemed bigger than
what we two can handle.
The next day, she called me. “I have just been told that the
D & C I had in June only took one baby of the two that was
inside of me, and this one might have been growing” she
said. I was shocked! I didn’t know how possible this could
have been. “So, what do we do now?” I asked her. I could
feel my voice shivering, because of how my heart
palpitated. “Get rid of it!” she screamed. This time, it
wouldn’t be through a D & C as she has been assured. She
asked if I could raise her some money because she has
been billed another N15, 000. A second abortion in a short
interval-- of months? I couldn’t just take this. “Let’s leave
this baby, my darling,” I begged. She was quick to anger you
know. “Just say you can’t give me money. I should leave the
baby? You, can you marry an after-one?” she said and she
terminated the call. I tried to reach her again, and she
wouldn’t pick my calls.
Later in the week, she called me. It was not good news. The
one of the twin babies has been confirmed lifeless. There
was no other option than to bring out the lifeless thing
from her womb.
Few days after the operation, I spoke with her over the
phone and I could barely hear her. “I have been bleeding
profusely,” she said in a faint voice. “Femi, I feel so weak.
Pads can’t even hold this blood. I’ve been using towels,” she
added. I was already in tears, you know.
I shared a bit of this on Facebook and many friends
suggested I ensure her parents know about this. I had to
open it up to one of her uncles in the neighborhood whom I
always argue politics with. He brought in the parents and
they set in immediately.
Last Thursday when I called her line, her dad picked. “She is
sleeping,” he told me. He thanked me for always checking
on her. “When she’s up, I will ask that she returns your call,”
he said.
On Monday night, 28th of September, 2015, my phone rang
as I stepped into my room. “Bisola is dead,” the caller said.
“She died this morning at the University College Hospital in
Ibadan,” he added.
Oh yes, I laughed. That would mark the beginning of the
mental illness that held me for hours. I became sicker. I
became weaker. A part of me died with Bisola. The
memories of that young girl who knelt by my shelf-- asking
for an Economics textbook-- haunt me.
Why am I writing to you? You see my dear, I discovered that
Bisola feared being stigmatized as an after-one. Just like
you, she wanna go to the university, graduate and marry
her lover. But things went wrong, and she wanted to return
to her normal self. I know you have a boyfriend. I had a
girlfriend, too, when I was eighteen, and oh, we did crazy
stuffs. I know you guys really wanna be all over each other
and have sex. I write to beg that you be careful, okay? I
know your approach to life could be refreshingly naïve. See,
many boys would wanna play on this. You have to be
smarter, okay? I wish I could explain better. And in the case
you eventually get pregnant, sweetheart, don’t rush to
abort it, please. Call your mum and dad, and tell them. Don’t
go through a D & C alone. My parents, conservative
Christians, won’t approve of abortion. I want to believe
yours, too, won’t. It is your life that matters and not what
people would call you; after-one or whatever. You will be
amazed at how people will stand strong for you, the after-
one girl.
Please, take these things seriously and stay alive to enjoy
that future!
I care about you, always.
Femi Owolabi,
1:15AM 30/09/2015. Onipanu, Lagos, Nigeria
PS: You can re-share and re-blog this, and get it to the girls
who would need it.
https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10153025295446604&id=634706603&refid=7&_ft_=qid.6200308364431632045%3Amf_story_key.4773875669785234107%3AeligibleForSeeFirstBumping.&__tn__=%2As

Too long