I saw him dropped his bag with my dad and mum all over him. No one knew who he was except me. No one. Not even my mother each time I drew back each time she dragged the sponge near my organ.
They just beat me farther than mum and dad's ignorance about how beautiful his ugliness had turned me into an addict. An addict of the same act I started nine years before my first menstruation.
Now, I really cannot define pleasure, lust, and love. I can't measure the desires I need to build true happiness. I just can't. I tried so much to tell mum and dad, but no, all I got was that I wasn't serious enough to make them see him as such.
"Tobe is a man of good repute. I mean he is your uncle. Your blood relation. Not in this life can or would he attempt to do such a thing." My mum would always read loud to me as though I had lost the sense of hearing the day I realized that I was no longer a virgin and a woman. She just was too overt in her generalization about how norm abiding Tobe was than me being a withered flower. Yes, a withered flower now I have become with no room to love or even express it.
Three years of ploughing unendingly at what I have now known to be my womanhood.
Don't worry, about fighting him because I already did chopping off his organ the night my parents insisted that I go live with him in the city after I graduated from high school.
Oh yes, each time I remember I had done it all alone without their help, my inner chains loose free and I become a free bird again. A free bird I am now, so free to reach the zenith of the skies from within but cage in the lurks of constant fragileness about knowing how to be loved and expressing it.
So my husband, I am sure now you know why I refuse to love you from within despite having three kids already. It is really hard for me to love you, just keep the scripture fulfilled by allowing us to procreate and cleave don't bother about love. I just don't believe in it.
Written By Oluwaseyi Damilola Ogunojuwo