At sixteen, my mother asked me to spend the weekends with my sister and her husband. My sister was heavily pregnant and needed help around the house. So I would go over there on weekends and cook, do their laundry, clean, and run errands for them. I didn’t enjoy going there because my sister and her husband were constantly fighting. But my mother always said, “After everything your sister has done for you, you owe it to her to help her every weekend. She paid your school fees, don’t forget that.”

I wouldn’t be able to win an argument with my mother so I continued going over to my sister’s place on weekends. One weekend, they argued to the point where my sister started crying. She seemed to be in some kind of distress so I called my mother and reported everything to her. She showed up that night and took my sister to the hospital. Her husband also followed them so I was left at home alone.

The next morning my sister’s husband came home to pack a few things for the hospital. I was worried about my sister so I asked him to take me along to see her. He headed to their bedroom and asked me to hurry up and change my clothes. Their apartment was a chamber and hall. So I always slept in the hall. That was where my clothes were so I stood there to change. I felt someone was watching me, only for me to lift up my head to find my sister’s husband watching me from their bedroom.

I became scared of him but I couldn’t say anything. Fortunately, my sister was discharged that very day. Unfortunately for me, the man refused to sleep in their bedroom that night. He slept on the couch in the hall, while I slept on the floor.

In the middle of the night, I felt someone touching me. At first, I thought it was a dream so I didn’t open my eyes. However, the touch became a little serious. I was being touched in my lady parts. I panicked and opened my eyes, to find my sister’s husband touching me. I thought he would stop after seeing that I’d seen him. But it wasn’t the case.

I was scared that if my sister found out she would end up in the hospital again, so I didn’t shout. I lay on the floor and fought him with all my strength until he stopped.

The next morning, this man came to advise me to take my studies seriously. I was shocked that it was the same person who violated my body the previous night. Thankfully, it was the end of the weekend so I left for my mother’s place. I became traumatized by what happened but I couldn’t tell even my mother.

My mood changed. I was always melancholic as I was haunted by the horrible memories of the assault. The next weekend I refused to go back to my sister’s place. My mother said everything she could but I didn’t go. She insulted me and called me ungrateful, but still, I didn’t go. This became a problem in the family. Nobody understood why I refused to go and help my sister.

Soon enough, school went on vacation. I was asked once again to go and help my sister, and I refused yet again. My sister called and spoke to me but I said no. My mother said everything in the books to convince me but my answer remained no. My aunty came into the picture and put in a word but I still refused. An imam was invited to talk to me. “If your sister did anything to offend you, forgive her and go and help her.” At this point, I couldn’t say no any longer so I went back to my sister’s place.

Right from the very day, I stepped foot over there, her husband came to where I slept every night and touched me. I was always alert. The moment I feel his touch, I would wake up in a panic and start fighting him. This continued for a very long time. I still couldn’t speak up and I hated myself for it.

I was always sad around the house. My sister took it to mean that I didn’t like the chores I was doing in the house. Every time  she complained, I would think, “If only you knew about the demon I fight every night.” I wished I could tell her but I feared for her health. If a mere argument sent her to the hospital, then how would she react if I told her her husband is a sexual predator? I couldn’t bring myself to hurt her like that.

I thought if I kept fighting the man, he would eventually give up. But it wasn’t so. If anything, he got further with his touch each night. One night he came and decided he wanted to go all the way. This time I had a lot to lose so I didn’t relent in the fight. I fought with every fibre of my being, but he was strong. His eyes were all red. He didn’t look human. At some point in our struggles, I started crying. I didn’t even know I was doing it and I must have been very loud. Because my sister opened their bedroom door and saw us.

Her husband immediately got up and said, “Dear, it’s not what you think. She was exposed so I was covering her.” My sister was appalled, “If what you are saying is true, then why was she crying? More importantly, why are you sweating? I don’t even recognize you. You look like a demon standing there like that.” She then walked over to me and hugged me, “So this is why you didn’t want to come and live with me. I am so sorry. I had no idea that I married a monster.” We called my mother and told her everything, and yes, my sister ended up in the hospital again.

After she got discharged, she refused to return to her husband’s house but the elders talked her into going back. They performed some rituals to nullify the taboo that the man committed by touching me. After everything was settled my mother refused to talk to me. She blamed me for what happened. She said if I had spoken up the first time, a whole lot of drama would have been avoided.

I lived in the same house with her but she wouldn’t speak to me. She would cook and not give me. I became depressed. I even attempted to take my life but I failed. My mother had no idea what I was dealing with and she didn’t seem to care.

A lot of time has passed since that incident. I am no longer sixteen. I am twenty-three and married with three kids. I thought I had escaped my past but it’s currently haunting my marriage.

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Every time, my husband wakes up at dawn and touches me, I wake up with panic. I even hit him sometimes. I tried to deal with it but it kept getting worse. So I told him, “If you want to do the thing at dawn, don’t just start touching me. Wake me up first before you start.” He asked why, but I couldn’t tell him. He is not one to give up so he kept pushing me for the truth until I caved and told him everything.

First, he got angry that I kept it from him. Then he got angry again that I let something like that happen for a long time without speaking up. “Your mother was right. It’s all your fault. So what would have happened if your sister hadn’t heard you crying that night? You should have said something before it got to that point.” And just like my mother, my husband refused to talk to me for days. He wouldn’t even eat my food.

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As I am telling this story he has forgiven me. And we are in a good place now. But I am still dealing with the trauma of my past. I still panic when he touches me at dawn. I still hit him when I feel too overwhelmed. Before I got married, I didn’t know that my past would chase me into my husband’s house. Maybe if I did, I would have tried to get better before getting married. But here is the thing, how do I get better when I can’t talk to anyone about it?

I don’t want to bring it up again with my husband. I can’t talk about it with my sister either, that would be too painful for her to bear. And my mother wouldn’t hear of it either. That’s why I am here. Sometimes it helps when you share your problems with a stranger or people who don’t know it’s you. What do I do to move past this? 

—Queen

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