Family Ties — Chapter 3

Have you read chapter 2?

Unspoken Truths

“Leave me! Leave me alone! What’s all this?” She left the bed. He got up to drag her back to the bed.

“Must you always be violent about it?” She asked, her voice shaky like she was about to cry.

“Must you always act like a virgin after twenty-six years? The Bible says that your body does not…”

“Don’t even give me that your Bible nonsense! This body belongs to me, and I’m not intere…Leave me, Biola! Leave…” At this time, he had already got her lying face up, pulled her gown up, and was trying to take off his trousers.

“Ahn! Ahn! Ahn! Oh my God!…” He uttered, gasping.

“Just get off me, beast!” She sobbed, as she went into the bathroom to clean up. He never cleans up, he sleeps immediately after the first round and snores so loudly.

She got back to the room and lay on the floor. She couldn`t bear the disgust of lying close to him, at least not yet. She looked up to the ceiling in the dimly lit room. All she could hear was her heartbeat which was always loud and fast after such violation, and the ceiling fan that squeaked. She was teary again. She could not sleep. She remembered how it all began twenty-six years ago. 


It was in 1986 at my father`s house in Ibadan. He got home that night and announced that he had found a Mathematics teacher for me. He said his name was Biola, one of his former students. My goal and father`s expectation of me was to pass Mathematics in my second attempt at writing the Senior School Certificate Examination. The young man resumed the following day, knocking gently on the door. Our maid, Janet, opened for him, and he met me in the dining room, which was where I always had my private lessons. He introduced himself as Uncle B, and said he preferred to be called that. The first class was great, as he made Mathematics seem much easier than any teacher did. I was excited and looked forward to the next class.

Everything was fine, until two months after when I noticed something strange. That Friday, I ran some errands for my mother, and I did not return home until thirty minutes after my class was to begin. I hurried home and met the front door open, which was quite unusual. I guessed Maxwell, who was playing outside with his friends, forgot to lock it. It was surprising not to find Uncle B in the dining room, because he never came late to class. I walked closer to the dining table and saw his pens and handkerchief. I assumed he was in the restroom, so I hurried into my room to have a bath and prepare for the class. As I got out of my room, I saw Uncle B and Janet walking out of her room, holding hands. She was afraid when our eyes met, and Uncle B tried to pretend not to be afraid. But I saw that he was. We had our class that day like nothing happened, but Janet was always uncomfortable around me all through that weekend. She wasn`t even my concern. She was only a maid from the village. I was only disappointed at the intelligent teacher who stooped so embarrassingly.

I saw Uncle B walk into class the following Monday with a small polythene bag in his hand.  It contained some sweets which he gave to me and Maxwell. He gave us a look which only I understood. It was a look that expressed that he had bribed us not to say what we knew. Maxwell couldn`t have understood, because I didn`t tell him what happened that Friday. Little Maxwell loved sweets, so he thanked him excitedly, “Thank you Manabi!” Maxwell called him “Manabi,” a combination of the English word, “man” and “bi” from his name, “Biola”. This was the same way he called Olumide, our dad`s driver, “Manolu”. I still don`t know how he came up with such coinages at his young age.

Uncle B did not stop buying sweets, and Janet got more comfortable and confident around me. I didn`t see them together after that Friday, however, there was a way he came much earlier on days that I arrived late for lessons. I wondered how he knew. But I don`t know if he did anything with Janet. I always met him in the dining room before I arrived.

Unlike other private teachers I had had, I loved to have Uncle B around because he made me understand Mathematics better, and even gave me more sweets whenever I performed excellently. Those sweets weren`t anything big as far as I was concerned. Our father bought us better ones. It was because they came from him as a reward that I looked forward to them. As I got more comfortable around Uncle B, some strange things began to happen, but I ignored them. He stopped sitting opposite me during lessons — he began to sit right beside me, claiming he needed me to see the books more clearly. He also began to touch my shoulder, then my lap, whenever he made explanations. On a few occasions, his elbow touched my breast,  and he immediately apologised, and moved slightly away from me, acting like it was a mistake. All this went on for two months, but I kept ignoring and silently making excuses for him.

Then a time came when Uncle B got more playful with me. He tickled me, stroked my hair, and even hugged me after classes, saying he would miss me. I can`t deny it; I enjoyed this cheerfulness, coming from a Mathematics teacher. I had never seen any such lively. Besides, no one else hugged me. My parents were too busy to — I sometimes didn`t see them for some days, my father in particular. So I enjoyed the attention I got from Uncle B. The only thing I wasn`t comfortable with was the bulge I saw below Uncle B`s waist whenever he got cheerful. Mr Aribisala, our Biology teacher, taught us that such bulge happened whenever a man just woke up, or was about to lie with his wife. He called it an erection. Uncle B never slept in class, and I was sure he didn`t have a wife. The bulge remained a problem. I got inquisitive, as this bulge came up more frequently. So I asked one day as the class ended,

“Uncle B, do you have a wife?”

“Yes I do, and her name is Ngozi,” he said, caressing my cheek and stroking my hair.  He said something else which I don`t remember, then he smiled and winked.​ Then the bulge came up again. At that point, I was sure something wasn`t right.

I was only twenty years old; I attended a single-sex school; I had never had a boyfriend; Maxwell was too young to understand these things; my father was always out of the house; my mother rarely ever entertained questions; Olumide was always driving my father around the city for his business trips; Janet was too ignorant to understand a thing, or so I thought. I had no one to ask questions. That bulge remained a problem.

The cheerfulness continued, and the sweets increased. The bulge remained. It took me two weeks to summon the courage to ask,

“Uncle B, what is this,” I said, pointing at it.

He laughed hard, saying, “It is a special candy I have kept for you, till the day you answer all questions correctly in class.”

I was getting better at Mathematics, however, the highest I scored was ninety percent. I had never answered all questions correctly.

“Uncle B, but why does this candy only show up when you`re happy?” I asked another day.

He stuttered for some seconds, and finally managed to utter, “Ng,” as he sometimes called me, pronouncing each letter. “I make it show when I want you to see it, and I won`t bring it out until you score a hundred percent.” Then he quickly tried to distract me from the bulge. I noticed he was shy, but I didn`t understand why.

How foolish I was! I believed him. I put some extra effort and time into solving sums. Again, it wasn`t about the special candy, but it was about the fact that it would come as a reward. I cherished the bulge since the day he told me that cock and bull story. I even had to stop myself from touching the “special candy” on many occasions. It was fascinating how it just protruded and remained firm like a rod, then sometimes moved like it had life in it, and went down later. On a few occasions, I saw his trousers get slightly wet after the bulge disappeared. I assumed that the candy had some juice in it. I got more eager to have a taste of it.

What amazed me more was the fact that my father who sometimes travelled to different parts of the world had never bought such a candy; it was Uncle B who was always in Ibadan that got such a rare candy. I remained eager.

The big day finally came after about a month. I answered all of the questions correctly. I remember that it was a test on algebra, graphs, and some other topics that I don`t remember now. I was excited to have achieved what I long worked towards. But the bulge wasn`t there, so I asked for it, and Uncle B said he didn`t take it along with him. I doubted him and tried to search for it. I was also trying to be careful not to touch his genitals. He suddenly got up, and shouted,

“I`ve got the special candy, catch me if you can!”

I ran after Uncle B who went in the direction of my room. He went in, I followed him, and he locked the door. I didn’t understand why he suddenly got so dramatic over candy, but I ignored all that.​ He touched my body violently, my private parts especially, and I felt so uncomfortable. He tried to kiss me and even tried taking off my clothes. I didn’t understand why he did all that. But then, I saw the bulge, and I was glad. I grabbed it tightly, determined to get this reward I had worked so hard for. As I grabbed it, it felt warm and hard. I didn`t stop holding on to it.​ He giggled, then shouted, and gasped. His eyes were half-open, and his mouth was left ajar. He pushed me to my bed, unbuckled his belt, and asked me to close my eyes if I wanted the special candy. I obeyed, still trying to understand why we had to do all that just for candy. I heard him unzip his trousers. I couldn`t wait to taste this special candy I had longed for. As I waited eagerly, I felt moist between my legs, in my private part. I was too excited to pay any attention to it. Uncle B used a hand to cover my eyes, and I heard him use the other to bring out the candy. I thought I would hear him unwrap it. I was even going to tell him where the bin was, in case he needed to dispose of the wrapper. But it was already in my mouth. It was warm, hard, and slightly salty. It filled my mouth, almost getting to my throat.

“Ng dear, don`t bite, just lick and suck,” he said. I couldn`t respond. I felt chocked, and my eyes were still tightly covered. I felt moister down there, as Uncle B caressed me. I don`t know how, but he took off my clothes so quickly with one hand. This guy has always been a crook. Even though I couldn`t see anything, the whole thing felt like what my friend, Zainab, read in some of those erotica novels which she sneaked into her school bag. I never read them, but she sometimes narrated them to me. The whole thing must have gone on for about five minutes, then Uncle B`s hand was off my eyes, his left hand was on my right breast, while his right hand was on my left breast. That was the first time anyone ever touched them. I felt a sensation I had never felt. He looked like it was his turn to shut his eyes, as his eyes were shut, and his mouth was open. He looked like he was in pain. He sighed, then my mouth was full of what felt like salty paste. Suddenly, the candy wasn`t hard anymore. The paste in my mouth was smelly and disgusting. I ran to the bathroom to clean my mouth. I noticed how thick the thing was. I hated it. And I still do. When I returned, Uncle B had left the room. I was unhappy that I didn`t get to see the special candy. I wanted more!

This strange act continued for two months, whether I answered all questions correctly or not. Our classes got shorter, as we spent more time on the candy act, and some other new acts he introduced. Some I enjoyed, and others I didn`t, like when he put his fingers in my private part, right there between my legs.​ Jesus, ah! I always cringed. Uncle B appeared skilled in such things. He also had a way of ensuring that Janet and Maxwell didn`t know what we did. He told me that Pythagoras and Blaise Pascal died because they talked about such acts. He threatened me not to tell anyone. I was afraid, so I never did. I felt terribly guilty each time we did those things. I begged him to stop, but he said that I asked for it, so I would keep getting it. I was troubled.

I can`t forget that day, no I can`t! I still remember the date. It was Friday, 19th September, 1986. Janet had taken Maxwell for a haircut. It was Maxwell`s desire to keep an afro like Uncle Chigozie, our mother`s younger brother, but our mother never permitted him. She said he was too young for it. My parents too weren`t at home, as usual. After about thirty minutes of teaching, Uncle B told me to follow him to my room. “Candy time,” as he called it, wasn`t till after about an hour of teaching, so I was confused. I remember the conversation so vividly. I remember what he wore, I remember what I wore, I remember the scary look he had.

“Ngozi, are you mad? I say follow me!” He didn`t call me Ngozi whenever it was candy time, so I was more confused.

“But why?” I asked. Then I saw the bulge. I already knew at that time that it wasn`t candy. It was his genital. That disgusting thing!

“Follow me now, before I make you do so,” he screamed. The only time I ever heard him raise his voice so loudly was when I tried to chew the “candy” on one of my novice days at the act.

I was dead terrified, as I had never seen Uncle B that angry. I got up and followed him, but slowly. When I got into my room, I saw Uncle B stark naked already, and more erect than I had ever noticed. I had never seen him like that before. I tried to run out. He pulled me back and slapped me so heavily. I could neither see nor hear. I think I fell. It must have taken me some seconds, or maybe a minute to recover from that slap. At the time I recovered, I was already naked too. Uncle B`s penis was frighteningly erect.

“What are you about to do?” I asked, as he tried to push me back to the bed. I hit his chest as hard as I could, I must have hit it twice or thrice before I felt my body clutched in his hands, then we were both on the bed, our bare, warm bodies having a contact I detested. Then he struggled to put my legs apart. I became sure, as it dawned on me that Uncle B was about to rape me.

“Uncle B, no!” I kept screaming, as I cried. I was helpless. I felt empty. I had no strength to fight. It was as if he gained the strength I lost, as he got more energetic. I cried till he forcefully penetrated. It was hurtful. I cried, cursed, spat at him, tried to hit him — I think I did — but all these seemed to have no effect, as all I heard was, “Ahn, ahn, ye, ye,” as he gasped and sweated, thrusting harder.  This ugly experience must have lasted twenty minutes, or maybe I`ve exaggerated the duration, but it felt so long. He got up looking fulfilled, irritatingly sweaty, and with a flabby penis — the black and disgusting thing. “He released that smelly, salty paste in me,” I said to myself. I felt awkward. I felt violated. I felt unclean.  He dressed up and left without saying anything to me. I locked my door and cried bitterly. I heard Janet and Maxwell return about five minutes after he left. I wished they returned earlier. I must have cried for two hours or more. That has been the worst day of my life, ever.


I just don`t understand why she`s so stubborn. She doesn`t allow me in whenever I want it. She`s too guarded. How can anyone be so guarded for twenty-six years? She’s not even romantic. I try to get her to watch some styles, but she refuses. I’m tired. If not that it is sinful to commit adultery, I would have done it more often.

Fine, I know I acted wrongly on the first day we did it; I shouldn’t have forced her. But that’s over two decades and a half now. Shouldn’t she have got over it already? I lost my relationship with Aramide, which was almost leading to marriage, just to marry Ngozi. Did I not act kindly enough? I could have chosen not to take up responsibilities for the child, or even take them up without marriage. But she was a sweet girl, sweeter than Janet and everyone else I did something with at the time. Janet was too exposed. I couldn’t deal with that. Ngozi, on the other hand, was naive. I enjoyed her for that. Not many girls her age were that naive. She was just one sweet girl of a wealthy businessman. She knew nothing. Didn`t she just know that those skirts she wore during those classes were tempting? Didn`t she know that I could see between her legs whenever I tried picking my pen under the table? She was even so ignorant not to have taken something after we did it, just to avoid being pregnant. Janet was never like that! She was smart — but too smart, so I left her. This is why I train Busola to be smart, so she never experiences what her mother experienced. I trust my girl, she`s a virgin who will never allow any man mess with her.

I remember how much I suffered after Ngozi`s parents realised that I got her pregnant. Ah! Chief Okorocha was such a brutal man. He got me locked up in a police cell for three days. I was severely beaten. He didn`t even consider that I used to be his student. But now that I`m a father, I can imagine how felt. If anyone does such a thing to my daughter, I would kill him, I swear!

Fortunately for me, my father was an influential priest, just as Chief Okorocha was an influential businessman, and they didn`t want their families to be stigmatised, so it got settled, and my father paid a lot of money to settle the Okorocha`s, and we quickly planned a wedding before Ngozi`s pregnancy got obvious. Aramide was disappointed that I jilted her. I couldn`t tell her what actually happened. I felt bad. I see her on Facebook, and I`m glad she`s doing well — she`s divorced now though. She needed a real man like me; that professor she married wasn`t her type. I wouldn`t say I am happily married because Ngozi is not my kind of woman. I never even liked the idea of marrying someone who is not from my tribe — Yoruba women are better at everything, they respect their husbands, and are submissive. I wish abortion was an option then, but no one brought it up, and I was too afraid to do so. I have regrets. So here I am, waking up every morning to see the result of my mistake. I feel terrible. But I trust that the grace of God is sufficient for me. Raba raba shekerebo! It is well in Jesus` name. Amen, fire!


Here I am, waiting for Adedoyin to sleep, so I can have a taste of Busola. What kind of life is this? I don`t like women of my age. I prefer these younger ones. But what if I`m caught? I can`t even imagine the trouble.  Why can`t I just be a more responsible person? But who says being attracted to much younger girls is an act of irresponsibility?  Perhaps the way I`m going about it is the problem. But this society will call me names if I  get a girlfriend who`s much younger. But maybe I`m wrong. Manabi got married to Aunty Ngozi responsibly. He was first her teacher, then they liked each other and got married. I`ll think about it, but that will be after I touch this irresistible angel on that bed. Wow! See those sweet laps.

I think I got exposed to all this too early in life. Aunty Janet put me in all this trouble. May she not know peace wherever she is! I wish my parents were more available to take care of me. They were so business-conscious that they left us in the care of that maid who ruined my life. She put my little genital into almost every part of her body since I was five years old. She was probably doing it much earlier, maybe I don`t remember. She told me that I would have a hundred teeth if I discussed what we did with anyone. At the time I realised that it was an empty threat, I was already enjoying it, so we continued. Well, I wasn`t actually enjoying it. I think I was just addicted to it. There is a difference. My body was already used to having it. I couldn`t stop. I couldn`t even have a girlfriend. It was only Janet I wanted. The few times my mother allowed Janet to go on short holidays, I touched Aunty Ngozi while she was asleep, but I didn`t enjoy it like I did with Aunty Janet. My mother`s friends and Aunty Ngozi`s friends thought I was a little child that knew nothing, and they would carry me so close to their bodies —  I enjoyed every bit of that. There was this woman who almost put me in trouble — well thinking about it now, she tried to save my life, actually; she was my mother`s friend. I don`t remember her name now, but I remember that she always visited with her daughter,  Chikaobi, who everyone teased, calling her my wife. I think I was six years old when Chikaobi`s mum carried me and noticed how I held on to her body. I think she also noticed that I had an erection, even though I tried to hide it. She told my mother much later, thinking I was too far away from them to hear — she told my mother that I showed signs of an abused child; she was about to give the details, but my mother said that it was impossible, that Chikaobi`s mum was being overly sensitive. My mother even said that because she didn`t have male children, she couldn`t understand them.  I noticed that after that day, Chikaobi`s mum never had any body contact with me. She also never visited with her daughter. I hated her ever since.

I didn`t understand how damaged I was until my father died and we had to leave the house due to pressure from extended family members.  Aunty Janet then returned to her family. I couldn`t stop myself from abusing females. It`s easier with the younger ones, so I just do it with them. One either has to spend a long time convincing the older ones, pay them, or force them — I`ve tried all three methods, and I can say that none is easy. The much younger ones are just beautifully easy. They`re so gullible. Sweet angels. Ah! Adedoyin is snoring already. I need to go for some enjoyment right now.


Chapter 4 — Decisions

Check this space next Sunday, July 28th, 2019, for the continuation of this story.

The writer is Akinsiwaju Sanya.

Twitter: @AkinsiwajuSanya

2 thoughts on “Family Ties — Chapter 3

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