How i met your father

My Defilement

Don't they know how hard life is, Yetunde kept grumbling, using the end of her wrapper to swat the flies away.

The others mumbled a thing or two in support as they watched the passers-by. I couldn't contribute. Sleep was having its way with me. The almond tree under which we had taken refuge was in full support, swaying its leaves and luring Sleep on. Another stressful market day was over. One couldn't exactly state the place of tiredness. Was it our legs that had trekked several miles or our hands that carried baskets and baskets of harvest? Or our voices, screaming convincing arguments at the city people? 

Village families.

The city people who mock our hardwork by naming ridiculous prices. Even our stomach screamed of hunger, tired of working with no fuel. But then, we were not new to this kind of hard work. I, Iyadunni, live for hard work. We all did and we all still do. Yetunde is the first child with seven younger siblings. Her father ran off when she was 11. Now 20, Yetunde is no stranger to trade. Ibiyemi and Idowu's story is quite similar except for the fact that their own fathers never really cared from the start...except in babymaking. My father died when I was a baby. The four of us, together, faced life with headstrong determination.

Heading straight for us, under the almond tree, were the young hunters whose stall was directly beside ours. They had just finished washing in the stream at the back of the market stalls.  We were not new to them and they, to us. They would make wolfish noises everytime we passed on our way to the market. Their village was just beside ours too. They were three approaching us unlike their usual four.

As they approached, my friends began to whisper. Ibiyemi nudged me and I knew what it meant. Sit properly and adjust your wrapper, it's mating season. I didn't budge and I maintained my carefree position with my legs sprawled in different directions on the mat we had laid on the dusty ground. I hissed and rolled my eyes the instant I saw the one making crude remarks about my breasts. Kolejo, they called him.

"So they've finally summoned courage ehn?"
"Ssssh! They can hear you!" Idowu hissed and flashed a toothy smile at the approaching men.
Within minutes, after shy hesitant greetings, each man approached the girl of his choice. The three of them avoided me like a plague and went for Yetunde, Idowu and Ibiyemi.

Taste of love

Soon, it was time to leave and we all gathered our baskets. Walking in twos, they all pretended like I didn't exist and in time, I was left alone at the back with my thoughts. The road to our village was a long one so I decided to count my day's earnings. Money spilled out of my wrapper in different directions, making me panic, but a hand appeared from my back and joined me in the picking. Looking up, I met a friendly smile adorned with dimples and tiny pele marks. Maybe it was the niceness of the gesture or the   adorable smile but I smiled back.

He handed me the money and I smiled my thanks, bashfully. No words were exchanged for our smiles did the talking. Whenever he looked away, I would try to spruce my hair, adjust my blouse or wrapper. His eyes did not stray the way Kolejo's did when he was talking to Ibiyemi but they held a message in them, one I hope I wouldn't have to decipher soon if he said them.

We walked gingerly along the path to our village, arms brushing, hoping to make the first touch. While we were engrossed with our silent conversation, we didn't realize that the others were waiting ahead for us. As we approached them,  they were all laughing, with Kolejo saying something.

"Haha, Dapo, do you want to make love to her on the road ni?"

So his name is Dapo, I thought. Dapo smiled bashfully and I fell in love the more.

"Did somebody hear that?" Olawale, who was holding Idowu's hand already, said.

Silence fell upon us and indeed, we could hear the sound. Not the sound of the wind rustling leaves but the sound of men stumping on leaves.

"Halttt!!"

The Oyinbo soldiers were here again. Panic set in. As quick as lightning, we threw our baskets away and ran as fast as we could. Hearts thumping and feet stomping, we tried to swallow our screams but we had no saliva to aid it. Adrenaline pumped into our blood and we tried to run faster when the Oyinbo soldiers shot into the air but the path was littered with stones and various odd objects that could split one's feet.

Rape.

Suddenly, I felt myself being pulled by my blouse. An Oyinbo soldier had gotten me. One hand grabbed my breasts beneath my blouse. I screamed as loud as I could, hoping Dapo would hear, but he covered my mouth with his hand and Dapo kept running. His hand tasted like sand and something foul so I bit him.

"Bloody woman!"

He hit me so hard I fell and hit my head on the ground. He shredded my wrapper with his bare hands and unzipped his shorts. A piece of flesh covered with strands of hair, long and almost knifelike, tore my hymen apart. I cried and shed tears of blood not only for the pain but for the shame. For the grief I felt that Dapo didn't turn back or even look back. They did it seven times. In and out with a satisfied grunt while I couldn't utter a single word.

They left, spitting in my face and laughing like hyenas. Their faces held such joy and they decided to leave me in the dirt in hopes that I would die.

Night came and it brought the flies and the mosquitoes with it. I could hear the forest's silent chatter and its every movement. I needed strength but strength didn't come. Sleep did, this time with the white promise of peace. But just before I closed my eyes, I saw a face.

"Dapo---"
He shook his head sadly, dirt caked his face.
"He's dead. They shot him in the head."

I couldn't cry again. I was already numb. I had lost my only slight chance and hope to love. My village elders would still banish me. My name would still always be Defiled. I closed my eyes and let Sleep take over. Hands reached for me and carried me away from the horror scene. I fell asleep in those arms
The Oyinbo soldiers were your fathers.

Kolejo is your father.