Child Sexual Abuse is a hidden epidemic gradually eating deep into our society. Unfortunately people hardly speak about it due to our culture and fear of stigmatization. Our children are sexually abused secretly even by the people they love and depend on. This has brought about long term emotional and psychological effect on these vulnerable children.

It is unfortunate that parents and guardians do not have enough information to help prevent this social canker from spreading. While at work, the lives of our lovely children are entrusted into the hands relatives, lesson teachers, swimming instructors, through the effect of this epidemic which is sometimes permanent in the lives of children.

A TRUE LIFE STORY

I recently had a talk on sexual abuse with some teenage girls in a boarding school; let me share with you a pathetic true life story of one of them who at the age of five experienced child sexual abuse. Eight years ago, I was an innocent five year old girl looking forward to a beautiful holiday with my lovely grandma. One day she left me with the gateman – Baba.

Yes Baba, that’s what I heard grandma call him. I can still remember that fateful day; yes the day grandma left me with Baba. “I will soon be back”, Grandma said to me. “Baba, please take care of her, I will not be long”, she continued. Grandma waved at me, while I waved back holding Betty, my hairy doll on my left hand. I then walked back to the corridor of my grandma’s three bedroom bungalow, playing with Betty. Little did I know that trouble was lurking around the corner.

Then he called me, I mean Baba the gateman. I ran into his small room, the gatehouse, leaving Betty on the floor. Then he pulled my pants down. I could not remember what Baba did, but it was very painful. Then he said in Pidgin English, “No tell Mama o, I go kill you if you tell am”. I nodded. How happy I was to see grandma back. I sobbed. She taught I was hungry. “Oh dear, you must be very hungry, I bought biscuit and orange juice for you”, she said. Oh how I wanted to tell her that I was not hungry, rather how Baba caused me
pain.

A week later, grandma had to leave me with Baba again. “Please grandma, I want to go with you”, I said to her. She declined. “Baba will take good care of you, my dear”, she said. Baba smiled at me. “No grandma, I want to follow you”, I insisted. “Don’t worry, I will soon be back”, she said. Mama left without me. Baba did it again, this time it was more hurting. He did it three times before my mum came for me. When I returned home, Mum noticed that I was not eating well. “My dear daughter, are you missing grandma’s cooking”? , she asked. I could not just tell my mum about what Baba did, not when I think ofhis death threat.

Each time my mum and I visit grandma, I always cling to her so tightly. Baba always looked at me with his prying eyes. I hated him with a passion. Now I am thirteen years old, a teenager. Eight years after I still feel the pain in my heart. I hardly socialize or make friends.Sometimes I still experience nightmares and Baba’s image keeps appearing in my imagination. I heard Baba, the gateman died twoyears ago leaving behind the memory of his torture in my heart.

This is one true story out of thousands of children sexually-abused in our society. I had the privilege of counselling this teenager and guess
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