We lived in a two-bedroom apartment for 10 years. My mum was always busy with her business. Sometimes my brother and I helped, but there was always so much work to do. Eventually, she brought two little girls from the village to live with us, so they would help her with sales. When they were not busy with my mum’s work, they were at home assisting with house chores. 

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When I left for the university, my part of the work was left unattended, so my mum brought in a distant cousin to help pick up the slack. One day my mum called to tell me, “Your cousin, Carol, says your brother has been trying to sleep with her. Do you believe this?” 

A cackle of laughter burst from my chest. There was no way my younger brother would do such a thing. I told my mum that our cousin was probably making up stories. That’s just how much I trusted my brother. He was a decent and godly person, so I just couldn’t fathom that he would try to fornicate, let alone pester someone for it. 

Regardless of my disbelief, my parents treated it with seriousness and warned him to stay away from the girl. When I went home on vacation, I had a conversation with him about it. I didn’t try to find out if the accusations were true. I had already decided he was innocent. So I just laughed about the issue with him and even told him, “Don’t mind that girl. She is just trying to cause problems for us.” 

Shortly after that, our cousin decided she would no longer live with us. My parents didn’t try to stop her, and neither did us kids. 

One day, I returned home from a church program and met one of the little girls staying with us in a melancholic mood. “What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?” I asked her. She shook her head and started crying. Before she spoke, she took my hand and led me to a secluded part of our house. 

Amidst tears, she mumbled, “Bro. Yaw, he pushed me on the floor and…” her voice trailed off as her wails intensified. I didn’t need her to finish that sentence. Her mere gesture to her dress and the marks on her thighs were enough to break my heart. 

“Where did it happen?”

“The floor.”

At this point, I broke down and wept bitterly as I held her in my arms. I didn’t even have the strength to comfort the girl while we waited for my parents to return home. 

It was just a few hours before they would be home but it felt like eternity. In my angst, I called my elder sister who doesn’t live with us. She encouraged me to report him to our parents. Even if they don’t believe you, “Do whatever you can to protect the girl.”

When my parents finally got home, I called an emergency family meeting and narrated what the girl told me. I had never seen my dad so angry until that night. There and then he removed his waist belt and whipped my brother mercilessly. 

The sight made me feel a sense of justice but I knew it would never be enough to erase the tragedy that was done to the little girl. I took her to my room and apologized to her on my brother’s behalf. I just wanted to make things right somehow. 

From that night, I let her sleep in my room so that my brother wouldn’t go near her again. This brought us close. I often spoke to her and encouraged her to talk to me as well. One day, I was talking to her when she went quiet for a while. I didn’t rush her. I just quietly watched her until she blurted out, “He does it to Maggie too.”

I heard myself say, “Huh?”

She repeated herself, “Bro. Yaw has been pushing Maggie on the floor.”

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Every iota of love I had remaining for my brother died that day. When I reported what the girl said to my parents, they were so deflated. They decided to keep the girls and other girls in our lives away from him.

Eventually moved out to a bigger house. Everyone in the house moved except my brother. My mother refused to let him follow us. She rented a place for him to live in. She said, “I will always need people’s daughters to help me with my business and at home. I won’t be able to bring them home when I know my son will violate them. So he should live alone.” We were all relieved by her decision, so no one objected to it.

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Five years down the line, I’m a mother to a baby girl. I look at her, and my heart feels tight in my chest. The knowledge that there are men like my brother in the world who hurt defenseless little girls like my daughter makes me so angry. 

My girl is two now, but since I had her, I have become resentful toward him. I cut him off after the incident with the girls but now, I just hate him. I keep remembering what he did to the girls every time I think of him.

I don’t know if I will ever forgive him. And I am not looking for help to do that, that’s not why I am here. I just want to caution parents to be careful who they let their daughters live with. Also, teach your boys not to abuse girls. If girls can learn to stay away from boys, then boys should be taught consent. A girl or a woman’s body is not a toy for men to take. It is inhumane to break into someone’s body. Control yourselves, boys! Control yourselves, men!

—Whitney

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