THE FORMATIVE YEARS

I believe that the years of 11-14 are the most important in a person's life. It is more important than a child's early years because these years are the foundation of the type of adult they may turn out to be.

My own formative years? did i like them? did i hate them? i honestly cant say but what i know is that i learnt a lot of life's lessons.

A2 and i moved back to be with mama3. A1 was in uni by then and so we didnt see much of him. I remember when we got 2 our new school, i hated it so much- it was the local high school. I guess i started hating Mr K (my dad) for dying. I know i really tried the saint out of mama3 then but i didn't realise how difficult it was for her bringing us up on her own then.

I know exactly how it feels now.

So i started school speaking all the ajebo english i had known all my life( we next absolutely next 2 nothin in yoruba). Oh how we were teased for speaking english like opere.(still dont know the meanin till today-so dont ask)

But school was a pleasant suprise cuz beleive it- there were some ajebo kids there whose parents sent them to boardin school. Most of my friends then were the boarders cuz i could relate with them and i used to also do after school lessons with them. I still remember drinking garri with fried fish.

My first experiences with boys my age started around this time. I was just growing buddin breasts. I would have fallen hook, line and sinker for all those toastings and love notes if not for ronke. Ronke was a local girl but she had a good head on her shoulders. She was one of those girls who called a spade a spade and she could tell you to go to hell to ur face. I know i didnt particularly like her but i still remember being toasted by one of the oldest boys in our year at that time and she comes right up to where we were standing and says "don't listen to him o. anything he says he is lying".

Did i listen to her? you bet i did. I found i had just started hating,( not hate- my granma says its too strong a word) disliking males.My landlady had this grandson who was staying with her cuz he was siting or re-siting school cert. i used to like him until the day he started to touch me and touch my breasts. He raped me a few times until i started reading m&b novels to know this stuff was supposed to happen only between adults. But i didnt know how to tell him to stop.

Now i ask myself why i never spoke out? why i never told anyone? would my life have changed its course? Its one of the things in life i'll never know.

I recall when my body started changing, all i noticed was growing breasts, monthly cycles and pimples.What i did not realise was that there were many other changes going on. Oh how i wish i knew then what i know now.

I did not know that hips and a figure were part of the equation.So i began life as an adolescence, wondering why guys would always want to talk with me when i had a whole face of pimples and spots.

I have realised now that this was another reason for my withdrawing into myself and finding it hard to trust. I used to beleive that anyone who came up to me then was wanting to make fun of me. Why would they have wanted to talk with me? I was not pretty and i didnt realise i had anything to offer.

I guess things were okay for some time and then in my 3rd year in school, mama3 had to make an urgent trip to the Uk. It was school hols at that time and so we decided to spend it with our family friends.

Now these family friends of ours are very popular. Infact before you mention 10 of the most popular families in lagos, you would mention their names. Mr K and mama 3 grew up with different siblings of this family so i guess you could say we were as close as cousins.

Their house was one of a typical nigerian family where all sorts of relatives live under one roof. Their house was one of the last places i expected to receive abuse. One day i just noticed that the house girl would always be there when i was undressing. Then she later she came and said there was a game she would like us 2 play, i would enjoy it and she had even taught the daughters of the house. I was like ok and then the next thing i knew was that she had started sucking my breasts and touching me down there. I remember feeling like what is all this again. Surely older women didnt also do this.

This nightmare did not stop there, one night when i was sleeping i felt some one on me, i woke up and it was one of their relatives again. I had had enough. I told him i was going to report him and then he started begging. But i did and till i left their house, i slept in the parents room.

Now i ask myself that if i had the strenght to report then, why didn't i tell about earlier abuse or even the later ones. I have never stepped foot in their house again. This happened over 13yrs ago. Last i heard about the older daughter of the house, she was little better than a call girl. Am not judging her- God only knows what her own demons are.

We get back home to find my mother back from the UK but seriously ill and she has to come back to UK for an operation. With hardly anytime for her to organise for us to go to boarding school or any permanent arrangement to be made, A2 and I were split up to stay with church members until permanent arrangements could be made.

It was at this time i finally lost faith in humans. So many things that had happened then that i had forgotten or blanked out from my mind are now coming back. I didn't realise how hard it would be writting this out. But i know i have to, I want to cuz i want to be free.

I am not big on my faith right now, but i know someone is still out there watching over me. How do i know? this offline message came in as i was typing. The beauty of it is that, it isnt someone who is close to me who sent it but the friend of a friend.

I did not realise i was crying until the tears were fallin on to my shirt.

Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled, and ground into the dirt by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come our way. We feel as though we are worthless. But no matter what has happened or what will happen, you will never lose your value. Dirty or clean, crumpled or finely creased, you are still priceless to those who DO LOVE you. The worth of our lives comes not in what we do or who we know, but by WHO WE ARE. You are special - Don't EVER forget it." If you do not pass this on, you may never know the lives it touches, the hurting hearts it speaks to, or the hope that it can bring. Count your blessings, not your problems.

So i am sending it on to everyone who reads this posts cuz like it says u never know who it may touch. It certainly has given me hope and the strenght to go.