My mother’s stepsister came to live with us when I was about six years old, and she was around eighteen.

At first, everything felt normal, just family living together under one roof, sharing meals and space like any other household. But things changed, and they changed in a way no child should ever have to experience.

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She started touching me inappropriately and eventually got me to sleep with her. I didn’t understand what was happening, not fully, but I knew deep down that it wasn’t right. As a child, I didn’t know what was going on when it was happening, and I didn’t know it was harmful, so let’s just say I played along, thinking it was something I had to accept.

Then, I remember telling one of our house helps what was going on, about how my supposed aunty would touch me and make me do things in the dark. I told her, hoping she would help me, hoping she would stop it, but she denied everything and made it seem like I was confused. But if I was confused, how did I know at six years old that those things shouldn’t be happening to me? How did I know to feel shame, to feel fear, to feel the need to tell someone?

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Later, when we were alone, my aunty scolded me and threatened to take away the few privileges I had if I ever spoke about it again. That was how it continued quietly and painfully until my mother eventually sent her away after some disagreements that had absolutely nothing to do with the abuse.

But by then, the damage had already been done. That early experience didn’t just hurt me; it broke me. It planted confusion and vulnerability that followed me into later years, and it showed up again through other inappropriate encounters with house helps who came after her. Even though I didn’t fully understand what was happening, I knew something wasn’t right. Looking back now, I realise that what started when I was six didn’t end when she left. It shaped parts of me I had to fight through, and I can only say that I survived all of it by the grace of God.

Today, I’m married to a beautiful woman, and we have three amazing children who are in senior and junior secondary school.

I’ve shared my story with my wife, and together we are doing everything we can to protect our children from the kind of abuse I went through. God has truly been gracious and merciful to me, and I don’t take that for granted.

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I’m sharing this to encourage anyone who has gone through abuse, because healing is possible and love is still real. You can pull through and go on to live a beautiful life filled with joy and peace, and I wish you strength as you continue to fight through the pain and overcome the toll it has taken on you.

—Paul

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