In the family I come from, continuing to senior high school after junior high wasn’t automatic. It was rare in our day. So when I completed JSS in the year 2000, my father told me to learn sewing. But I knew myself. I was more comfortable with books than with hands-on learning.

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In the middle of all the trouble, one of my mother’s friends stepped in. She advised my parents to do everything within their means to help me further my education. Just this once, they broke the norm for my sake. I had gained admission to a government SHS, but I didn’t want to burden them. So I opted for a private SHS just a few minutes’ drive from home. That way, it felt better.

It started off blissfully. I was enjoying school and happy that I was living the dream. But one day, our social studies teacher, one of the most feared disciplinarians in the school, called me and the senior prefect aside after class. He said we should accompany him to a program after school. It sounded harmless. Just a programme, and so I agreed.

Later that day, the senior prefect came for me, just as the teacher had said. After the event, the teacher asked us to pass by his house. It was just a stone’s throw away. I went with them, absentmindedly.

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About thirty minutes later, the prefect said he’d be back. He had something to sort out. But he never returned.

Soon after, the teacher began touching me in the wrong places. I was confused. I didn’t understand what he was trying to do. I was green. Naive. At the time, I didn’t even understand the concept of dating. But this man standing in front of me was feared. Everyone feared him. If I resisted, I feared punishment. I feared humiliation. I feared he would make my life difficult. So many things ran through my mind.

But I struggled. I fought him with the little strength I had. Still, he overpowered me. He stole what he wanted from me.

When he was done and I got up, I saw blood in my underwear. That was when it hit me. He had stolen my virginity. He fought me for it. But I was not going to keep quiet.

The following Monday, I walked to the administration block and reported the entire incident to the school authorities. He was quickly dismissed from his post. But what followed shook me even more. I had to leave the school.

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The hostility from his colleagues was unbearable. As if I were the perpetrator, not the victim. They made efforts to turn students against me for reporting their favourite teacher. It was an unpleasant, isolating experience.

So I left. I transferred to another private school and finished with amazing results.

I am sharing this not because it brings me peace. It doesn’t. I am sharing it because parents need to know that these things happen. Children must be taught about boundaries, about sexual orientation, and about power dynamics before they enter SHS. I didn’t know anything. And I fell prey.

I am now in my forties. I have never had a stable relationship. And I blame that on the horrible encounter I had with that teacher.

This story is not just mine. It’s a reminder, a wake-up call. Let it move parents, teachers, and guardians to protect, to educate, and to listen. Let it be the reason someone else is spared.

—Maybel

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