I am a Surviving victim

On the eve of my 40th birthday.......I thank God.

Sometime in 1993 I cried myself to tears for a whole week on end after I received the worst brutality of my life. I was lashed 24 times, my persecutor counted every single stroke of that 24 that landed on my buttocks, some on my back those never counted as these were nullified and I was 12. I lay on my side for a whole week. Cried myself to sleep for a whole week. My offence, being unable to answer questions after questions from my fine Arts teacher, I was in Js,1. The questions he asked were beyond my small brain. I was a top student. Fellow students were shocked at this killing of a fly with a sledgehammer; the questions and the consequence were all smokescreen. A day before I had refused to go see him in his cubicle.

My humiliation didn’t start in ’93 but in 1992 when I arrived in a boarding catholic school far from home. I had lived a sheltered life in a homely, semi-rural Mbaise homeland. My mum had handed me to him to take absolutely good care of me and had returned home. She did not forget to give him my pocket money only to be given to me when necessary. That was when my nightmare began at first subtly then later brutally venomous. The problem was I had just turned 12. I did not know it was a possibility that a man would want a man sexually or romantically. But here I was a lamb to the slaughter and unwilling sexual partner to a man I suppose was in his late 20’s. He was my teacher, was teaching me Fine Arts and Agricultural Science. He again was my bank, and I needed money now and again. I resorted to borrowing rather than go to him to ask for my money because I will pay by turning my behind for him to have his way, uncomplaining, compliant, marks of my slavery; bought without payment; sacrificed at the altar of a man’s wanton sense of enjoyment without compassion nor conscience.

I can picture these events or incidents if you may, in the open field, in his bed; wherever it suits him that is out of sight. I always dreaded the night; (nights I yearned for my mum, for the comfort of my home) he could pick me up in the middle of me studying about the rules of grammar and my night class was over. Now, I do not know why he does not stop when he starts. Did not know if he was on drugs or if it was just sheer human prowess. I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT HE WAS DOING TO ME. Once the SS 3 students found out and called me to an impromptu court somewhere at the edge of St Anthony’s hostel. They asked me what was going on between me and Fabik as he was known. I said nothing. They said they will kick the hell out of me and I told them my story and one line comes to mind...I told them he will lie me down and urinate inside my bum…and they burst out into a cacophony of laughter. They could have saved me, but they laughed at me and dispersed while my hope for redemption dissipated. They laughed so hard I cringed at the trivialization of my “situation” my "pain". We so dearly needed psychologists in our school, if we had one maybe I would have courageous enough, again I am not sure;you keep playing and re-playing these things on your mind....

For 12 years I held this to myself, there was no tears, no recrimination. My youthful, soulful, innocent ambience hid my pains well. I had to tell my mother in 2004 and she prayed for me and told me to remember my name “Munachimso.” She told me God will fight for me.

Why do I write about this now after close to 3 decades? This is my catharsis, my closed space to vent because after looking for him without success he sent me a friend request last year and I accepted it. He had few small talks that I endured before asking him pointedly why he raped me…and his response was I must have got the wrong man. That I am highly mistaken. That is majorly why I write today. I wanted him to tell me something that would explain what he did to me, anything; but he failed to do that and blocked me. He could have said Sorry. That would have sufficed. I have two beautiful boys I wouldn't allow close to a boarding school. For me to survive I found a beautiful smile to hide my pains (beauty for ashes), who would have fathomed the devastation I went through.

Our parents wanted the best for us, hence the decision to seek schools far removed from our reality. I wrote to my father twice, each were lengthy letters asking him to remove me from that school, but he told me that adversity were what men are made of. I went on to finish 6 long years here where my mental pains was birthed. He did not know how adverse my situation was. I could not tell him.I couldn't tell the authorities, I had been beaten to submission.

Thinking of it today I wonder why we were treated with so much brutality. On a good day you could be flogged thrice, on a bad day you could be flogged up to 8 times. Unnecessary punishment for seeking education in the hallowed chambers of the catholic church. You could be flogged for being seconds late to prayers or to breakfast or class, or talking during magna silentia even if it was necessary and maybe for not dressing your bed to a certain satisfaction. I do not know what this did to me,I don’t know what it is still doing to me but with this I stop seeking permission to be alive, to be me and to voice my frustration. I will still have time to ask forgiveness of all those who may not have witnessed the best version of me. Francis Kalu bastardised my essence but his power over me is over. For over a year you could have stopped but you didn’t, you only stopped because you left the school and I was happy then you did not go to senior seminary, as that would have been a slap on my faith. Whether he reads this or not is inconsequential but if he thinks I was deluded and got the wrong man I would love to have him sue me.

Happy Birthday to me


https://m.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10163509250655167&id=829205166&set=a.131666935166&source=48

Even my two balls Know I can't read it
Is too long

Sad story. Most young guys are victims of sexual Molestation and harassment by older males and famales; but unfortunately the society doesn't believe their story. Everyone thinks only the famales are the victims of these abuses.

Remember, the best way to curb this menace is to report to the appropriate authorities on time.
Parents should also encourage their children to speak up.
Those in Authority should also do a thorough investigation and bring culprits to book.

Let's SAY NO TO SEXUAL MOLESTATION OF ANY KIND!

Just one out of many others. Emotional wounds are the hardest to heal, even when they heal, the scars are there to stay forever. This is really sad. You may have a calling to fight for the young people going through similar trauma. Damn...

Too bad. I have said it severally, I can never allow any of my future kids either male or female to attend boarding school. Because that's where they breed Homosexuals and lesbians..

This is sad

bad, sad and touching even if i no read am atall

I have never heard any good thing about boarding schools

360degreess:
Too bad. I have said it severally, I can never allow any of my future kids either male or female to attend boarding school. Because that's where they breed Homosexuals and lesbians..

....I think I will stick to what you ve just said.

pathetic, I pray he heals totally.

360degreess:
Too bad. I have said it severally, I can never allow any of my future kids either male or female to attend boarding school. Because that's where they breed Homosexuals and lesbians..

This is so fucking truth, because I did my NYSC at a girls boarding sch. Chai...if if you know wetin these girls they do their self ehn. I can never allow it.

DiplomaticFatma:


This is so fucking truth, because I did my NYSC at a girls boarding sch. Chai...if if you know wetin these girls they do their self ehn. I can never allow it.

. That's what has been happening for a long time in boarding schools. I know so many people that can testify to this