When I was young, my elder cousin abused me. I was in JHS one, and she had completed SHS and was living with us. I don’t remember how I felt about it, but she came again and again until we were caught in the act on the fourth time. It was my dad who found us. My cousin shoved me off and started crying, telling my dad that I was the one who forced her into it, threatening her if she didn’t agree, I would cause her to be sacked from our house.

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Her theatrics won my dad over, so he didn’t listen to anything else from me. He beat me to a pulp the first day. After that day, anytime I met him face to face, he either knocked my head or slapped my face. My mom supported him by not giving me food or reducing the quantity of my food. “Because you’re being overfed, you get the strength to take it by force from your cousin. Who knows the number of girls you’ve done that to?”

I never spoke to my cousin again from that day. My dad ensured it. We were sleeping in one room, all of us kids, but I was removed from that room to sleep in the hall, on the carpet. I woke up with body pains, but no one cared.

I confided in my elder sister. I cried to her every day that I was innocent. She told me time would tell if I was indeed innocent. Time never told until my elder cousin left our house. When she was leaving, my dad gave her a lot of money and things she didn’t deserve, just to buy her silence.

I never forgave myself and never forgave anyone involved. I went quiet and never spoke much in the house until I left for SHS and then to the university. I didn’t like women. I didn’t talk to them much. When they came close, I shrank. They got the message and left me alone.

When my elder cousin was about to get married, I was quite a man. I told my dad, “Do you know you beat an innocent child? I didn’t do it. She made me do it, and the day you caught us was our fourth time.” He responded, “Why are you talking about it now when the matter is ages old?” I responded, “Because you didn’t listen to me.”

He still didn’t believe me. I didn’t attend the wedding, but after the wedding, my cousin and her husband came home to say thank you to my dad for his support. I was there. I looked at her face and the face of her husband and said, “Confess what you did, or else I will take you on in any other way that I can. My dad is here. Tell him I didn’t do it, but you forced me into the act.”

My sister came in, and then my mom entered. My cousin was shaking, asking me what I was talking about. My dad winked at me to stop talking. My sister pulled me away. I don’t know what they discussed afterward, but knowing my dad, he would convince her husband that I’m a madman, so he shouldn’t mind me. When they were gone, my dad came to my room, almost in tears. He said sorry to me, “I believed you the last time you talked about it. I didn’t know it went this deep. She’s sorry. Can you forgive her and let this go once and for all?”

My mom added her voice. “You two were kids. Yes, she was evil, and we mistakenly chose the side of evil, but please let go already.”

That day, my heart stopped beating for several seconds, and then I started feeling cold, like a certain flame of fire had left my body. I responded, “Mati. I won’t talk about it ever again.”

I haven’t, but the effect still runs deep. I don’t want to be next to women. If I’m left alone with a woman, I shiver until I find a way out of the room. My friends ask if I will marry someday. I tell them, “I don’t know, but there’s time for everything. The right time will come.”

—Nana

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