THURSDAY

Yep! It's Thursday, and church was awesome last night! And this morning I woke feeling like even though things might not be how I want them to be yet, it WILL only get BETTER! Yes, I'm activating my faith! Highly necessary!

So this song has been on repeat since 6 a.m. that I got up, and I thought I'd share (love is sharing, y'all)

William McDowell - You Are God Alone.mp3

Found at bee mp3 search engine

Y'all have an awesome day ahead! XO

WHO I AM

A popular saying goes “a problem shared is half solved.” Yes!

But a heart bottled in the pain of humiliation can never know

peace. The issue of rape is that which is discussed and shared

amongst us, but yet without the simplest solution.

This is very perturbing, and thus has sounded the alarm within

us to keep on speaking till we can reduce or inhibit this violence

and ungodly act.

Let us not fold our arms and watch our ‘PRIDE’ being trampled

upon and tormented without giving it a fight.

Rape is fiercer than a civil war, yet if we must win this battle,

we must fight with our heart and not watch on.

#Bloggersville presents

“The pain of a withered rose, a

trumpet for war.”

#SayNoToRape Day VII

I live amongst you, we wine and dine together. As supposed human beings we have thoughts limited to us, but what are your thoughts about me as of mine to you?

In the sanity of my quietness I create the insanity of my actions. I watch them provocatively dressed, the well dressed are not left out of it as I imagine the sight of the unseen. I crave for squeezing those boobs and making their ass clap with the spank from my thrust. As long as you are a woman, you are a prey.
The devil, the evil in me is what they do not see. The coward, the bastard that I am is what they have no knowledge of.

So I pounce on them, one by one like a serial killer. I devour them, time after time like a timekeeper making sure nothing passes him by. I watch them helpless, I love when they scream, it propels me when they beg. I crave for violence of that of body, mind and soul. I am feminine destruction.

I know, I am aware and I don’t need to be told; I am a curse, a demon that has a ready plan of blaming the devil if caught. I am a beast, a predator hunting for preys. I am what the sound of the words “No, please don’t do it” feels more like “carry on, am loving it”. I am heartless,…. I am Rape. Say No To Me!

Fowe Adetoye 

@hotsaucestillz

SHARDS OF BROKEN GLASS

The word rape is gotten from the latin word “rapere” which means To Seize. It is defined by many professors of the English Language as : The forcing of someone into sex. This definition has been modified over the years and many have argued that it is more than an attempt to achieve sexual fulfilment (although this may be the case in a lot of instances) but an aggressive desire to dominate a victim. It is largely considered as an act of violence rather than a sexual encounter.

HISTORY OF RAPE

In early societies, men obtained wives through the practice of bride capture(This is still in practice in some societies today). In this custom, a man would kidnap a woman and force her to have sex, and then he would marry her. A similar scenario is shown in the book of Genesis where Shechem  raped Dinar the daughter of Jacob and sought to marry her( Gen 34). In these societies, what we would now call rape was socially acceptable, especially in times of war and was sometimes celebrated as heroic. For example, Romulus, the legendary founder of Rome, is credited with populating that city by capturing the women from a neighboring group of people known as the Sabines.

Some ancient societies considered rape a punishable offense. But, many of these societies punished the woman raped, as well as the rapist. For instance, under the ancient Babylonian Code of Hammurabi, a married woman who was raped was said to have committed adultery. The Hammurabi prescribed that the woman and her rapist be bound and thrown in a river. The option was left to her husband to either rescue her or allow her to drown. Similarly, ancient Hebrew law required that a married woman be stoned to death if she was raped.

Many ancient societies and even present day societies considered women as a form of property and rape was defined as an offense against the property owner—the woman’s father or husband—not against the woman herself. For example, the book of Deuteronomy, which delineates ancient Hebrew law, provides that if an unmarried virgin is raped the offender must pay the woman’s father 50 shekels and then marry her.

TYPES OF RAPE (The Legal Angle)

As attitudes about sexuality and gender equality continue to change, legal reformers struggle to redefine what behaviors constitute rape.

However, as a result of changing societal perceptions, laws now prohibit several different types of rape (But this article is not about various law classifications of rape so I would not dwell so much on its details)

A .Forcible Rape

Sexual intercourse carried out against a person’s will by the use or threat of physical force is sometimes referred to as forcible rape. Historically, a person could only be charged with rape if force was used to subdue the victim.

B. Acquaintance Rape/Date Rape

When a person rapes a person he or she knows, it is called either acquaintance rape or date rape. The two people may be friends, former lovers, or presently dating. Studies indicate that a woman is more likely to be raped by an acquaintance than by a stranger or a relative.An acquaintance may commit forcible rape. However, the term acquaintance rape is usually applied when the sexual intercourse is non-consensual but does not involve the physical coercion typically associated with forcible rape, such as assault or threats of violence.

C. Marital Rape

Rape of a person’s spouse is called marital rape or spousal rape. The English common law and traditional U.S. and Canadian law did not recognize rape within a marriage as a crime, Also many African societies do not consider this as rape. As recently as the 1960s the American Law Institute recommended retaining the historical legal doctrine that a man cannot rape his wife. The organization based this recommendation on the theory that it was inappropriate for the law to invade marital privacy. However, as a result of changing attitudes about domestic violence, many states in the US abandoned this doctrine and began to allow prosecutions for marital rape, especially if it is committed by force. In Canada, spouses may be convicted of criminal sexual assault.

D. Statutory Rape

Sexual intercourse with a person who has not reached the age of consent is known as statutory rape. The age of consent for sexual intercourse varies from country to country, but is usually 18 in most countries. This covers sexual intercourse with someone who is drugged or asleep, or who is mentally retarded or under the influence of alcohol.

E. Rape of Men

Traditional rape laws were gender specific, providing that only women could be victims of rape and only men could be rapists. In recent years, countries have rewritten their rape laws to be gender neutral. It is thus possible, although unlikely, for a woman to be charged with raping a man. In Canada, statutes prohibiting sexual assault apply to both male and female perpetrators and victims. But, sadly this is not the case in Nigeria and many African countries

Homosexual rape, when it is not covered by a country’s general rape statute, may be covered by statutes that prohibit anal or oral sex between members of the same sex, a type of sodomy. Although some statutes do not distinguish between forcible and consensual acts, forcible sodomy is generally subject to more severe punishments. Homosexual rape is a notorious problem in prisons. However, in society as a whole, rape of men—whether by women or other men—is not a highly visible issue.

The Philosophical Approach

Rape raises a whole range of philosophical questions from the epistemological to the ethical, the ontological to the metaphysical. A philosophical examination of rape requires an exploration of memory, truth and meaning, of subjective interpretation and objective fact; of free will, choice, consent and volition versus determinism and natural selection; of identity, the self and the other; and of good and evil, morality and society

For us to truly understand what rape really is we have to look at it from a perspective beyond that of the rapist and the raped, which our legal system has effectively done justice to .

All or most definitions agree that for rape to occur there must be the absence of consent. But, this in itself creates further problems. For consent can be coerced directly or indirectly by threat, force, blackmail or even seduction (Now that is a debate for another day). If you say that rape occurs only when a lady “says no” and you still have sex with her, what if you point a gun on her baby and she “says yes”, she may even gladly undress herself and sex you till you say stop.  Will you say it is not rape? Or if you argue that there must be forced penetration, what exactly do you mean by forced? Is it the violence involved? Or the compelling factor? Rape may occur with no violence at all and with 100% consent/approval. So what exactly is rape.

Rape is the violation of human will. When the will of one is coerced to favor the will of another,that is rape. When a person is made to do what he/she doesn’t want to do, that person has been raped. When a woman is made to perform sexual activity against her will, that woman has been raped. And whoever does this is a rapist. So to a mild extent, the seducer is a rapists, chris take note (This is an argument for another day).

The real crime here is not that her body was defiled, nope for sex doesn’t and never defile the body; but her mind was defiled and once the mind is defiled the whole being suffers. The negative energy that is released from her spirit during the fusion of intercourse or assault and amplified in her soul via her mind will at the long run affect both the rapist and the raped. This turns the creative energy of sex into a destructive one(see laws of sex). This in turn results in Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Substance Abuse, Self-Harm/ Self-Injury ,Stockholm Syndrome, Depression, Flashbacks, Borderline Personality Disorder, Sleep Disorders, Eating Disorders, Body Memories, Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), Military Sexual Trauma, suicide and many more.

To The Raped

The first thing you need to do to heal is to forgive yourself for being raped. This is one of the most important areas mostly overlooked for there is always the tendency for you to blame yourself for the incident. Why did you trust him? Didn’t you know the spot was dangerous? Why did you wear such provocative dress? All these are quite normal. There always a time to blame yourself, infact I suggest you do. But then after all the blame game, forgive yourself. For nothing can undo what happened, so the best you can do is forgive yourself and learn from it. What better way to start than by showing love to yourself, make your hair, go shopping, see a movie, play video games . Love and appreciate the person you see in the mirror. Even if it was all your fault and you regret the mistake, understand that it’s okay to make mistakes.

The next thing you have to do is forgive the rapist. This is the hardest part of the healing process but it is the fastest way to heal. Forgiveness isn’t always to benefit the person who did you wrong. Your hatred and bitterness means nothing to the person you don’t forgive….it’s like taking poison, and waiting for the other person to die. Forgiveness frees you emotionally and enables you to move on. So don’t just forgive and forget, forgive and move on with your life.

Finally, you need help. You need both medical and psychological help. Get medical care right away.  The doctor or nurse will test you for sexually transmitted diseases (STDs), including HIV/AIDS, and offer you emergency contraception to prevent pregnancy (if victim is female). If the doctor or nurse does not mention testing for STDs or emergency contraception, ask for them. Seeing a counsellor or a close friend or spiritual adviser will help you effectively overcome the trauma that you may face.

To The Rapist

You need help. Nobody was born a rapist There was no woman in history that gave birth and called all her friends and said “Guess what? I gave birth to a rapist”. They became one. Rapists are victims of society. Many of them suffer psychosomatic and manic disorders. They are victims of child abuse, societal neglect, poor parenting, rape, and every ill the society has birthed in them.

You need to stop! Just stop where you are! Hold the breaks! Halt ! Even if you are reading this, stop reading at this point…..no you can start reading…. go and seek help. There is no formula to transform a rapist into normal person, but there is always a hand willing to help someone that seeks it. Change comes to those who genuinely and sincerely want it. So seek medical help, seek mental help, seek spiritual help. It may be that your uncultured behavior is the result of childhood trauma, who knows, you may even have been a victim of rape yourself. For only hurting people hurt others. #sayNoToRape

To The Reader

Rape is a crime against humanity. It is a brutish way of engaging pleasure, It is a selfish engagement of men/women turned beasts, An unsavory cup of vinegar that bitters in tongue, tonsil and tummy. So join this campaign ! share it, tweet it! Text it! 1+ it! Pin it! But most important say it! Say no to rape!

By Prince Xavier

www.st-princex.com

@Prince_Xxavier

www.facebook.com/philosophicalreflections

www.google.com/+PrinceXavier

www.google.com/+StprincexphilosophicalReflection

SAY NO TO RAPE

Why didn’t you tell anybody?

Why didn’t you run?

If it was me, I would have slapped him.

All these words kept hitting me from all angles, I wanted to scream.

I was the one that was affected, yet no one cared to know if I was fine.

I could silently hear them hinting that I should just have kept it all to myself.

I could hear myself on the inside saying over and over

‘I am the victim here’

But as usual I sucked it all in.

If you are reading this, don’t judge me.

I kept it all because I was raised to respect the elders

I was raised to recognize that the elders are never wrong

I was raised to never correct their wrong

I was raised to accept their wrong as right

I was raised to be seen and not heard

I was raised to never have an opinion.

Is it a culture attributed to only Africa or Nigerians?

I cannot tell.

So I am forced to keep mum and I did for 10 years.

I was taught that sex was a sin

I was taught never to look at a man.

I was taught to submit like a woman so that I would find a good man

But alas my sex organ were awoken

A little touch on my butt

A little squeeze on my breast.

And then it became agressive…

All the while I was in shock…

He is a father figure.

His love for me is just like that of my dad’s

Or maybe it was a mistake, and he didn’t mean it.

But is it not without my consent?

No it is wrong, but who do I tell?

I have reached the age of puberty, so maybe my mind is playing tricks

Or maybe my hungry desire to have a boyfriend is causing me to think thus

And so the mind game went.

My sister lay beside me one day and I whispered… “he touches me in a funny way”.

“He plays with my thing in a funny way. I bled today”

A hot slap and a warning to never repeat such

So I became mute.

I learnt the opposite sex, my peers, my seniors, my fathers: all love me.

Some want more but I cannot commit.

Confidants, best friends, bread givers

But I cannot commit.

I lost the power to love when he toyed with my genitals

Still I had principles…sounds impossible but it is true.

Despite the foreplay, my virginity remained sealed

That’s the rule at home.

I cannot be the exception.

So even though I am chaste, I am not.

God hates such and so in fear I trembled any time the males came close

A kiss and straight to the priest I go

I must confess lest I rot in hell.

They knew my life story…he did too

And so he waited till the time was right.

He took me and I refused

He took me and I screamed

He took me and I was naked

He too me and it was not with my consent.

He took me and I was voilated

He took me and I am no more a child

The act is done.

I don’t need to add by force

But this time I speak up.

The human spirit was made to thrive

So I speak up

only this time I am lashing

I am angry

All I was taught was faulty

I drove prospects and invited suspects

I speak up and I find only hate

I speak up and still I cannot commit

The wound is deep

The scars have refused to heal.

I am not more a child, even at 25.

In my community he goes unpunished

But there is too much anger in me

But who do I blame?

My family, my community, or my religion?

All summoned me to keep shut.

I am a bitter leaf, but who do I blame?

I shared it with a friend, who tells a friend of a friend

And like wildfire everyone knows.

And once again I am at fault.

So I sit here quietly

Quietly wondering what my offense is.

Their voices begin to drown out my thoughts

But not before I asked myself.

“Do you want my younger ones to go through this?”

Hell no!

The silence is over

I will say no to RAPE!

Tope Olofin

@toperants

RAPE: WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW

A popular saying goes “a problem shared is half solved.” Yes!

But a heart bottled in the pain of humiliation can never know

peace. The issue of rape is that which is discussed and shared

amongst us, but yet without the simplest solution.

This is very perturbing, and thus has sounded the alarm within

us to keep on speaking till we can reduce or inhibit this violence

and ungodly act.

Let us not fold our arms and watch our ‘PRIDE’ being trampled

upon and tormented without giving it a fight.

Rape is fiercer than a civil war, yet if we must win this battle,

we must fight with our heart and not watch on.

#Bloggersville presents

“The pain of a withered rose, a

trumpet for war.”

#SayNoToRape Day VI

In a national violence against women survey which was conducted in 1977 in the United States of America, it was found that 1 out of 6 women and 1 out of 33 men had experienced rape (either attempted or the full) as a child and/or as an adult. Rape in this context is defined as forced intercourse (vaginal, oral or anal).

Most people believe strangers, perverts or “bad people” are the sole perpetrators of rape/sexual assault when indeed the act is reported to be committed most by friends, relatives, acquaintances, the nice neighbor who comes to watch soccer games on weekends, the maid who helps with chores and “other things”, the teacher who gives more lessons than the classroom legally allows. There have been reported cases of fathers detaining daughters and turning them into sex slaves.

What is most disturbing and alarming is that studies estimate that 50%–90% of rapes go unreported. In most cases, these rapes go unreported because of shame, humiliation, guilt, cultural taboos, stigmatization and the very real fear of secondary victimization by law enforcement officials as well as medical and legal authorities.

Wife rape runs into stone walls in legal opinion even though there are now laws against forcible and violent non-consensual sex with one’s wife. Clinical psychologists use the term “sexual abuse survivors syndrome” to describe the posttraumatic stress-like symptoms that follow the aftermath of childhood sexual abuses.

There are a few listed factors that affect the existence of rape. Baron and Straus (1989) theorize different causes, namely;

1.       Gender Inequality: Relates economic, political and legal status of women in comparism to men.

2.       Pornography: Reduces women to sex objects\, promotes male dominance and encourages or condones sexual violence against women. Pornography is reported to have high influence on rape as sex offenders confess to watch a lot of porn.

3.       Social Disorganization: This erodes social control and constraints freedom of individual behavior and self-determination.

4.       Legitimization of Violence: Is the support culture gives to violence as portrayed in the media (movies, video games, music videos etc), laws permitting corporal punishment in schools, violent sports and excessive military exploits amongst many others.

There are personal and psychological factors common to perpetrators of sexual abuse/rape which affects both their decision to assault someone and the manner in which the assault is carried out, namely;

1.       Offender acts in hostile, aggressive, angry, condescending and domineering manner and believes he is strong, courageous and manly though he often feels weak, anxious, inadequate, threatened and dependent. This implies that his decision to rape someone can be as a result of overcompensating for areas where he is weak.

2.       Lacks interpersonal skills to make his point in society.

3.       Needs to exercise power – uses the assault situation to prove to himself and his victim that he’s in total control and he’s superior.

4.       May show sadistic patterns – often mutilates or murders victims to attain a feeling of total triumph over the victim.

Rape/sexual assault goes beyond trying to fulfill a sexual need or desire, some researchers interviewed rapists and gathered that;

1.       Criminals who commit rape in the perpetration of a crime –for example, robbery – often see rape as an added bonus. It is there for the taking, so why not?

2.       For some men, rape is attaining the unattainable woman, a woman who is clearly out of his league and will never have gotten a chance with her other than through rape.

I have also outlined also most importantly the victim’s response to rape, they are;

1.       The victim may respond by showing no emotions – appearing unaffected.

2.       May feel humiliated, demeaned and degraded.

3.       May experience impaired sexual functioning.

4.       May suffer immediate physical and psychological injury as well as long-term trauma.

5.       May blame herself or feel guilty (as society will make her believe her indecent dressing called the attention of the rapist or she feels guilt for not being cautious enough).

6.       Might find it difficult relating to and trusting others – especially men.

Rape has high potential for PTSD (Post-traumatic Stress Disorder), depression, panic attacks, GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder), social adjustment disorders, sexual dysfunction, eating disorders, dissociation, suicide and more negative world views and cognitive distortions such as blaming oneself, external factors and preservating on why the rape happened.

A rape victim however requires family support and acceptance in the early and latter stages of dealing with the event, also needs people to reach out to her (or him as the case may be), offering the victim attention to pour out all their pain (mostly verbally).

Olateru-Olagbegi Bode

MY ALMOST RAPE STORY

A popular saying goes “a problem shared is half solved.” Yes!

But a heart bottled in the pain of humiliation can never know

peace. The issue of rape is that which is discussed and shared

amongst us, but yet without the simplest solution.

This is very perturbing, and thus has sounded the alarm within

us to keep on speaking till we can reduce or inhibit this violence

and ungodly act.

Let us not fold our arms and watch our ‘PRIDE’ being trampled

upon and tormented without giving it a fight.

Rape is fiercer than a civil war, yet if we must win this battle,

we must fight with our heart and not watch on.

#Bloggersville presents

“The pain of a withered rose, a

trumpet for war.”

#SayNoToRape Day VI

Rape is a topic on the lips of most people these days because the rise of exposure on crime has finally come to light in this part of the world.

Rape didn’t just start, it has always been but our culture and mentality never gave the female child, ladies or women who are victims of these wicked act the right to speak up and demand justice. Thank God it’s changing now and a couple of groups are stepping out to be the voice to the voiceless, to fight for them and encourage them.

I remember closing very late from church due to a particular program. My home was quite far from the church. I could have slept in the church premises, but knowing that some of my relatives lived about7 blocks away from church made me decide to go there instead. I called to let them know I was coming over, my female cousin said she wasn’t home at the moment, but she will be returning the next day. She encouraged me to call her younger brother, even though her elder brother’s fiancée will not be home he would allow me pass the night. Confidently, I called him and he agreed. I got to the house and had my bath. I was about laying the bed when he asked if I was going to eat, I told him it was quite late and all I wanted to do at that moment was sleep. He said his good night and left the room.

Later that night, I woke up and discovered an object moving round my body. I was obviously spooked, until I realized it was human hands. I mouthed my displeasure which his reply was that I should not make noise. He didn’t want me to disturb his brother’s wife. I asked when she got back and he said it wasn’t long after I slept.

Then the talk began. He started professing his much suppressed love for me. How he has watched me grow into a beautiful woman. That he is sure I know what he wants and very sure I wasn’t new to his advances. At that point, I kept mute, thinking every possible action through in my head. “Is this how I am going to lose my virginity?”

All I could do was pray in my heart and engage him with discussions. Telling him I never knew he loved me and that he never showed it to me I told him I would prefer he shows me this love before we go into this stage. I also mentioned that I was still a virgin and would like my first night pre planned.

I just kept talking and praying within. I remember telling God He has to save me from this one because I came here from church and not some sort of kurukere waka.

Eventually, he believed I was serious about dating him and that the sex would eventually happen. A miracle right? I thought so too.

He finally slept off. I couldn’t get myself to closing my eyelid. I regretted not spending the night in church. I thought of doing different horrible things to him as I watched him sleep. I just didn’t dare. All I could do was thank God for saving me from this one. I mean, I regard these people as family even though right now, I now think twice. After the incident, I remember trying to ask my aunt how our chain of relationship links with these people but she started with questions that made me forget about getting an answer.

I was able to escape this but so many people didn’t escape theirs. They have decided not to talk about it and die daily with the emotional trauma.

I have just this to say to you if you are one of those rapists out there:

I am not sure you have a heart or conscience, but the next time you choose to take a woman by force. Imagine another man taking your mother by force. Or even your own daughter.

Oh well, I hear they even rape their daughters? God help us all.

#SayNoToRape

Written by:

Elsie Godwin

@elsieisy

SOUR 16

A popular saying goes “a problem shared is half solved.” Yes!

But a heart bottled in the pain of humiliation can never know

peace. The issue of rape is that which is discussed and shared

amongst us, but yet without the simplest solution.

This is very perturbing, and thus has sounded the alarm within

us to keep on speaking till we can reduce or inhibit this violence

and ungodly act.

Let us not fold our arms and watch our ‘PRIDE’ being trampled

upon and tormented without giving it a fight.

Rape is fiercer than a civil war, yet if we must win this battle,

we must fight with our heart and not watch on.

#Bloggersville presents

“The pain of a withered rose, a

trumpet for war.”

#SayNoToRape Day V

"He forcefully thrust inside of me, tearing my maidenhead all the way to my heart, tearing my emotion all the way to my soul, tramping on my feelings and stampeding my self-esteem. I can only feel pain as he forced his way into what is mine; my temple, my body, my future. I'm his brother's 16 year old daughter. He is my uncle, was my friend and role model until now, how could he? He wouldn’t listen to my cry for mercy, he wouldn't acknowledge my hoarse voice from endless scream of pain, he ignored my tears and my blood-shot swollen eyes. I must have cried a river but he kept thrusting inside of me, knowing fully well that the stickiness between my legs is not wetness but my blood. How cruel can he be? I tried to look in his face, I can't recognize him anymore, I can only see the face of my "rapist": the devil with red face, two horns, green eyes, long ears and evil grin.

That afternoon, uncle Toba came home with a can of my favourite Pringles. I always looked forward to his visit because he wouldn't stop buying me things and I could talk to him about anything, unlike mum who is so uptight. He was my idea of "cool" and I had a girly crush on him.  I was wearing a tank top on shorts. I sat across him and told him all the new gist from school; who had a new boyfriend, who was no longer a virgin and who still was. Suddenly, he was beside me on the sofa looking at me in that stupid way men look at women in adult movies. And so I pinched him, "uncle T did you hear me?" He replied by forcing his mouth on mine and sticking his tongue in my mouth. It was gross and I pushed him back trying to recover from the shock. How could Uncle T have kissed me? Our eyes met at the same place where his bulge was visible between his pants and I bolted for the door but he was there before me. He clamped his hand on my mouth and carried me back to the living room where he dropped me unceremoniously on the centre rug. He turned up the volume of the home theatre system and I could feel the floor vibrate beneath me. I clamped my teeth on his palm and bit hard, he jerked his hand away and smacked me hard with the back of his hand. Uncle T had never laid his hands on me and I shook in fear. I burst out in tears, "Uncle T! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bite you. I was just joking".

I still believed he was playing with me and I never imagined sex with Uncle T talk more of rape. However, he was far gone, his eyes were wild, he slipped off his jeans and I could see the outline of his manhood through his boxers, it looked very huge and my eyes grew into saucers. I forcefully swallowed the lump in my throat. "You think I've been buying you gifts for free abi? My dear, nothing goes for nothing and I will reap the fruit of my labour today", he said as he reached for my breast. It finally penetrated my brain that Uncle T was not joking, but intended to rape me.

I scrambled up and tried to make a go at the door and he put out his right leg and swept me off my feet. I landed on my back. He tore my tank top and used it to tie my hands above my head. He mounted me and held me down with his legs while he removed my shorts. He tore my pants to shreds. Fear wouldn't let me scream and I still assumed he would soon stand up and tell me it was just a joke - my naïve 16 year old mind. He pushed my legs apart with his knee and tried to thrust inside of me, first time, it wouldn't go in. He opened my legs wider and tried again. He put Spit in his hands and rubbed it on himself and on the third try he succeeded in thrusting in. I could feel my maidenhead tear like ankara and screamed from the pain. After about 10 minutes of thrusting and grunting like an animal, Uncle T stood up, spat on me and told me I was a little bitch who had been tormenting him with my plum body in shorts and with my little pointed breast. Nobody will ever believe, not even my own parents, so I shouldn't try to tell.

It’s been exactly a month and two weeks since the rape and I'm pregnant. How can I explain that I'm pregnant for my own Uncle? Everybody thinks Uncle Toba is a saint and nobody will believe me, even you mum. I feel very dirty, used and so ashamed of myself. My sudden quietness is not from my first period like you think, neither is my continuous tears from my menstrual ache and of course, the blood is not from my period. I can't sleep as Uncle T keeps coming to rape me in my dreams. I shrink whenever daddy tries to touch me, not because I'm sweaty but because I can't stand human contact anymore. My three times daily ritual shower is not from cleanliness but from trying to wash away the memories. Every touch feels like Uncle T's hands. I went by the pharmacy earlier today and bought "indocid" on the pretence that there are too many rats in the house. By the time you get this, I should be ..."

*****

Mrs Williams dropped the letter as she rushed into her daughter's room and found her lifeless body on the bed.

Rape is a physical, emotional, mental and spiritual abuse. Violation and assault of a person's body, mind and soul; that which no one should be subjected to. It doesn't just break one's spirit, it practically ruins one's life. Accept and respect her No as NO. Say No to Rape.

Written by Adegoke Adedoyinsola

@doyeenOblack

BURNT

A popular saying goes “a problem shared is half solved.” Yes!

But a heart bottled in the pain of humiliation can never know

peace. The issue of rape is that which is discussed and shared

amongst us, but yet without the simplest solution.

This is very perturbing, and thus has sounded the alarm within

us to keep on speaking till we can reduce or inhibit this violence

and ungodly act.

Let us not fold our arms and watch our ‘PRIDE’ being trampled

upon and tormented without giving it a fight.

Rape is fiercer than a civil war, yet if we must win this battle,

we must fight with our heart and not watch on.

#Bloggersville presents

“The pain of a withered rose, a

trumpet for war.”

#SayNoToRape Day V

My fame has become shame hidden

Bottled up in my heart with the chain of pain

I'm bruised like a torn vein

Beautiful outside, but bleeding within

I long to say, but the wash of humiliation won't let me

I fear that I will perish in this, my lost pride

I'm filled with hate for myself

If this is fate, I curse mine

If this is love, then I'm confused

I'm nothing more than a broken vessel

One that can never be patched

Like spilled water that can never be gathered

I carry a mark of unworthiness tattooed upon my forehead

With dark reflections from my own mirror

My rose thus becoming withered

My soul wearing away by the day

My first love now a total stranger

A stranger that exploited my meekness

A stranger that ripped into me and stole my dignity.

Breaking me! Is this love?

Breaking our bond? Is this fate?

Ours is a cursed bond.

Yours is a cursed life.

Mine is a cursed existence, a progression of ultimate misfortune.

Sweet memories suddenly become sour.

I lay and watch my rose dry up

A garment drenched in ashes.

A withered rose, a trumpet of war!

A war I have not the strength to begin.

***

My name is Amaka, and you are reading my journal. And just in case you don't understand my poem, this is my story.

I was born on the 9th day of April, into the family of Mr and Mrs Oluchukwu. Mrs. Oluchukwu died while granting me entrance into this world; thus in exchange for my life, fate robbed me of the chance to know my mother.

Growing up without my mother wasn't easy as I was the only child, but my father did all he could to make up for her aching absence. As a baby, he sang to me, bathed me, soothed me when I was fractious, fed me and rocked me to sleep. Just in case you are wondering how I know these, my aunt Ezinne never stopped telling me of what a wonderful father I have. My aunt is my mother's immediate younger sister. She takes care of me like her own child, just another adult making an effort to fill in the gap of my motherless childhood.

I grew older. I became a teenager. I was loved. Among my peers, I was one of the brightest, and I did not fool around with my academics. I won academic laurels, and was rewarded with different scholarships. My father, a palm wine tapper, didn't have to fret over my education. I was quite popular; within and beyond the borders of the local town, and I'm pretty sure you've heard about me. My childhood friend, Peter Clarke always told me that when he hit it big in the music industry, he’d dedicate a song to me. He got a record deal, and kept his word. His hot single 'Amaka' was composed some years back while we washed at the stream. He was actually gazing at my waist while he composed that song. I am not sure of many things, but I know my greatest asset is the undulating symmetry of my hips.

Naughty Peter would sing, "Amaka O, Amaka, you dey burst my oblongata, I'm liking your ways, I'm liking your waist, I'm loving the way you dey waka." You know me now, don't you?

When I clocked 15, my father threw a small party to celebrate me at the town hall. I had made him proud; I’d gained admission into the university to study performing arts. My love for writing poems and painting will outlive me. Did I mention that I got the American embassy award for the best painting by an African in 2007? I was just 18 then. I was quick to get a job with an art gallery after my graduation. Life couldn't have been better.

But before I graduated, I met someone, a Yoruba guy named Adetoye. I was in my final year, and he was a corper. Toye – I loved that man. Even in death, I'll cherish the memories of the good times we had. He painted my life with love like a rainbow. He was a good man, loving and sincere. Forthcoming with his feelings for me, and quiet, reluctant to draw attention to himself. However, his reticence made him unpredictable, and that unsettled me sometimes.

I graduated, and my relationship with Adetoye became intense. He introduced me to his family, and I did the same. But my father didn't approve of a Yoruba man as the right partner for his only child. His reaction was a hostile one. With just me as his audience, I remember him smashing his palm wine calabash with the cutlass he held in his hand, before he thundered, "I'll rather die than bless your marriage with a Yoruba man!" He removed his cap and dusted it with his hands. I had never seen him like that, so agitated as he paced from one end of the small corridor to the other, cursing under his breath and grinding his teeth together.

"Let me just tell you this, the doctor that was meant to be on duty the day your mother died was a Yoruba man." The look he threw me was black with hate. “But he wasn't there on time. It was God that spared your life. Now you want me to let you marry a Yoruba man. Amaka! It is a not done. Never, ever!" He grabbed his cutlass from the floor, and pointed it at me. “Tell that man never to come near you again, or else, as sure as I breathe, I will kill him!”

He stormed out of the compound. We didn't talk for weeks after that clash. It took the intervention of Aunt Ezinne for us to reconcile. She is the only one that knows how to calm him; they are so close I remember the rumours that arose once that they were having an affair. Rumours I always denied. I love my father, and I know he loves me too. Everything he has ever done for me has been out of the fierce need to protect me. I'll never forget the day he beat my principal for slapping me. I am actually like him; very stubborn and strong-willed. I didn't yield to his will. Toye and I kept seeing each other, hoping that we would be able to convince him to bless our union with time.

***

Aunt Ezinne has a strong loud voice, one she never failed to utilize to its strongest timbre when imparting pearls of wisdom to me as I grew up. Back in those days, she would pull her ear, gaze into my eyes and said solemnly, "Amaka, hear me now very clearly. Don’t allow any man to touch you there” – and she’d point to my groin – “until he has paid your bride price. Is that clear?”

The message was crystal clear.

So, whenever Toye and I tumbled into feverish moments of passion, complete with all the necking and kissing, I would come back to earth the moment I felt his hands trespassing. He once slid his fingers through the hem of my underwear, and I shoved away from him, feeling the cold sweat of anxiety break out on my skin. I wasn't ready to give it in. The fear of my aunt wouldn't let me dare.

Toye understood my hesitation. I explained and he took it in stride. But then, he couldn’t stand my frequent withdrawals during our intimate moments. He began pressuring me for sex, starting by cajoling me, making promises about how sex with me did not mean he would leave me after getting it. He would still marry me. But he had to have me. Our relationship was three years old, and he’d been with no other woman in that time. He wanted me to give him a break. I wouldn't yield. I almost did one day when he reasoned, “Is pre-marital sex not better than me cheating on you?” But it didn't happen.

Then the issue of the sex – or lack of it – began to affect our intimacy. The moments we kissed and necked became less and less. His attitude toward me became stiff and oftentimes cold. Distant even. Then that one afternoon, he tried again to cajole me into parting my legs for him. I resisted, and he flared: “Why are you torturing me like this? After being with you for three years, do you still believe I could dump you just because I’ve had sex with you? Tell me! Or do you want me to go and find other girls to sleep with? Is that what you want? Because I’m a man, and men have needs – needs you are not fulfilling, Amaka!”

He was so angry as he hurled those words furiously at me. They stung me, every one of them. They made me feel as though I was half a woman for not satisfying the man I loved. I blinked back tears of anger and frustration as I just then realized that my father’s obstinacy may well get him what he wanted – the end of my relationship to a Yoruba man.

I had to speak to him. It was time for him to come around, and let me marry the man I loved. I packed a small overnight bag, and was soon out and on my way to the town of my birth.

***

I got home to the news of the flood that overtook my father's house. My heart pounded with disquietude. "Is papa alive?" I asked my aunt.

"He is alive and healthy. He now stays on his palm plantation," Aunty Ezinne replied.

I was relieved by her report. I set off the vegetation where he now inhabited. We hugged when I met him, after which we went into the hut and had a very long talk. I said nothing about Toye in the beginning, and so it was a smooth conversation. I sat beside him as we picked through bush meat with our fingers and drank palm wine for dinner. I promised to renovate his house before leaving. My job pays well, and I hardly spend much; Toye takes good care of me.

Then, I brought up the issue of my relationship with Toye. My father tried to be dismissive of it, but I was persistent. Provoked by my persistence, he burst out in anger, "You will only marry that Yoruba boy! You hear me? Over my dead body! Tufiakwa! Mba! You cannot marry him!"

He stormed out of the room with a jar of palm wine. I sat transfixed for a while, and finally decided to go to bed. I planned to have Aunt Ezinne appeal to him the next day.

***

"Nne . . . Nne. . .”

It was my father rousing me with the pet name he gave me as a child. It was still dark outside, probably pre-dawn, but he was determined to talk.

“Nne, I'm sorry I shouted at you. I can't just imagine a stranger stealing you away from me. Yoruba people are evil. They killed your mother, a pain I still bear. I'm not ready to nurse another pain. Mba!"

I turned away from the wall and faced him, and said gravely, "Papa, no man can steal me away from you. I will always be your daughter, but you have to learn to let go of the past."

"Amaka, I cannot let that boy marry you. . .” He sounded plaintive. As though he was begging me to stop defying him.

"Let's sleep papa, we will talk better in the morning. I'm still tired from yesterday's journey." I rubbed his arm comfortingly and laid back down, already feeling the pull of sleep afresh.

"I love you, Nne," my father muttered, and followed the words with a kiss to my head. I felt a tug of elation at this gesture. He’d always kissed my head in the past, and whenever he did so, it was always a sign of good things to follow. Perhaps he was ready to grant my singular heart desire – to let me get married to Toye.

***

"I'd rather eat the fruit of my labour than have that Yoruba boy deprive me of it."

The rough pawing of my breast was what pulled me awake again. I blinked my eyes open to feel Mr. Oluchukwu’s hot breath on my face as he fondled me. I slapped his hands and faced him in shock, “Papa, what are you doing? What is this? That's my breast you are touching."

"I know, Nne. I'm lonely, Nne. It's been long since I felt the touch of a woman."

"Haba! Papa, the touch of a woman, not the touch of your own daughter." I was aghast.

But Mr. Oluchukwu was beyond the redemption of words. He pressed me down on the bed and shoved at my wrapper. I struggled to resist him, kicking and scratching at him. I screamed frantically too. No one heard. No one came. We were on an isolated hut on a palm plantation. My night clothes were rent, and Mr. Oluchukwu, sweaty and panting with the strength of his desire, shoved his way through inside me, a rough entrance that broke through the barrier that I’d maintained for the man I would marry.

Oh, Toye . . . Oh, God . . . I wept as I was mauled by the man I called father.

"Nne, please . . . Nne sorry. . ." Those were the words he moaned repeatedly as he heaved on top of me.

My father – my first love – defiled me. He ran out of the room when he was done, and I couldn't stop weeping as I shrunk into a corner. I had no idea how much time passed, until I heard the trilling sound of the receipt of a text message in my phone. My tears were gone, and my body was still racked with chills, as I picked up the phone. The message was from Toye and it read: "I just arrived Owerri with the night bus. I will never try to disrespect you again. I'll be at the park waiting. Please, come and pick me up when the day is brighter. We will survive this."

I didn't reply. What could I say? I could not love him anymore, not after what had happened.

And my father – I found him where he hung himself; on one of his trees. My heart sagged under the anguish I felt for losing him, and losing to him my virtue.

And so, I have decided not to see another day with this agony. I don't think I will ever outlive it. I have prepared a rope for my own execution. Let me die by the side of the man that defiled me. Isn't suicide better than humiliation after all?

Whoever finds this journal should share this story with the world, and have them answer me these: Should a girl no longer love her father unconditionally? Is it right for a widower to find solace in illicit intimacy with his daughter? Is pre-marital sex not better than the so-called chastity after all? When did rapists start wearing the face of a familiar man, instead of the rogues and strangers we’ve been told they are? How can a rape victim be consoled?

My name is Amaka Oluchukwu. I didn't wear seductive dresses. I didn’t flirt around. Yet, I got raped. Not by a stranger, but by the man I called father. You cannot heal my pain, no one can.

#SayNoToRape

Written by Olufemi Fragile

Follow on Twitter @fragiletimbzz 

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