It wasn’t that late when I got to the roadside. I didn’t check the time, but it should have been around 7 p.m. I stood by the roadside for close to an hour; no car was going my way. I knew the place very well. That had been the place I always stood to get a car home. Sometimes it was hard, but eventually, one would pass by and ask where you were going.

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Around 8 p.m., a taxi going the opposite direction stopped and made a U-turn before asking where I was going. I told him. He said, “I can take you there. Let’s go.” I answered, “I’m not taking a dropping ooo.” He smiled and said calmly, “Don’t worry. I’m a loading lorry, so I can load on the way.”

I sat in front, next to the driver. He was calm with words and very welcoming. He asked how long I’d been there and how my day had been. Minutes later, he picked up a guy who just entered without saying where he was going. He kept talking to me. A few minutes later, another guy joined. He was specific as to where he would alight.

I was talking to him when he took an unknown turn before telling us, “Let’s pass here to make it easy for the other man.” He was talking about the second man who had joined. Empty road, dark corners, and the sound of crickets but I never once thought I was in danger until one of the men behind pulled my hair. Before I could say a word, the other one behind the driver rushed in to cover my mouth.

I knew my end had come. It was a rough, patchy road, but the driver started speeding up. I was suffocating. The more I tried to fight, the more tired I became. One said, “Put it in her mouth.” The driver replied, “No, in her nose instead.”

Tears without a sound. Struggling without a way out. The seat had been pulled down and was almost lying straight, with the other guy sitting on my chest. The only way you know I didn’t die is because I’m the one telling this story. All of a sudden, everything went dark, and that was where my memory left me.

I regained consciousness in an empty, uncompleted house in the middle of the bush. I had nothing on. My head hurt; my abdomen was pounding. I couldn’t lift myself off the floor. I thought I was dead and my soul was waking up in a strange castle next to hell.

I lay still, grappling with the grass and weeds in the room. I wanted to shout for help, but my voice hurt. They had taken that away too. I started crawling. I wanted to see outside. I found my skirt on the way, then my top, and later my bag, which was virtually empty. I wore the skirt, but it was torn at the waist, so it couldn’t do much. I picked up my top and kept pushing toward wherever there was life.

I saw car lights coming. I hid in the bush. Maybe they were coming back for me, but it also told me I was close to the roadside. Another car was coming. It looked bigger. I was seated on the floor, begging them to stop, but it drove by quickly. I didn’t blame them. I wouldn’t stop if I were them. Car after car passed; then a motorbike approached. A young guy picked me up and told me I was an hour away from home. To be honest, he thought I was mad.

He gave me a phone, and I called my dad. I told him what had happened. I gave the phone to the rider to tell them where he had picked me up. My dad said, “Can you bring her home?” The guy was scared. He responded, “I can get a taxi to bring her home.” I whispered to him, “Please don’t leave me alone, I beg you.”

So he sat next to me in the taxi, and they drove me home to my parents. Mahmoud, wherever you are, God bless you. You don’t know the depth of what you did for me that night.

After a series of hospital visits and tests, I was told nothing grave had happened to me physically, but I was left with grave memories of the night. The police were also involved. They assured me they would get the perpetrators. I didn’t even know the car number to help them with the investigation.

All was well until I found myself pregnant. Honestly, I wanted to end everything there and then. If I didn’t have life, all this wouldn’t have happened. My dad whispered, “Jennifer, you can’t have it.”

I nodded, “Dad, I know.”

My mom said, “God will understand if you let this go. It’s not your fault.”

I nodded, “Mom, I know. Yes, I can’t have it.”

In the silence of my thoughts and the darkness of my room, I told myself, “Life has never been a smooth road. Maybe this is how I was meant to have a child. Every child is from God, right? So this one can’t be different.”

My siblings didn’t know my story because we agreed it would be a secret between me and my parents. But when I decided I was going to have the child, my parents told them and asked them to talk me out of it.

I felt betrayed, but I wasn’t going to do what I didn’t want to do. My dad washed his hands off me and warned that the child couldn’t bear his name. My mom thought she could talk me out of it through tears and nagging. I had a boyfriend, but he didn’t know what I was going through until the pregnancy. I didn’t tell him what happened, but he got to know the full story, and he also washed his hands off me.

Today, the child sits here and watches my face as I write this. She started smiling when she was only a few days old. I’d never seen a silent baby until this one came along as if to say, “Mom has a lot of troubles already. I better not add mine.”

I talked to her like my age mate. I poured out the story of how she came to be when she was only three months old, feeding at my breast. She watched as I talked, not blinking, not shaking. I was crying when I ended the story. I asked, “I hope you understand? Do you have any questions? You better ask now because this is the only time you’re going to hear this story from me.”

I Was Fine Until I Was Alone In My Room

She’s four and sweet. She talks. She calls me mommy. She doesn’t look like her story. She looks like every other child. She blends in where she ought to. She stands out where she ought to. She has me, so she has everything. My mom has already warmed up to her. My dad is quite indifferent, but that’s okay.

—Jennifer

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