Akin’s Ordeal

It has happened again.

And again, the feeling is bittersweet.

I feel dirty.

I feel guilty.

Yet, excited at the thought of trying something new once again. I know it is wrong, but I can’t help it. It’s been going on for so long that I’m beginning to enjoy it. I feel burdened like a huge weight is resting on my shoulders. Just like always, I can’t swallow well. Feels like something is stuck in my throat. I want to tell someone. Whom can I tell? Tears begin to well up in my eyes. But they will dry up unshed.

They always do.

I’ve been two years, three months, and five days since she initiated me into this act. I was no more than 12. The first three months were filled with heavy guilt, secret tears, and anger. Now, I’ve managed to channel those feelings into taking something out of the acts.

Learn she says. Learn I will.

I’m sure at this point, you are wondering who ‘she’ is. Well, I heard I was birthed in her hands, not literally, but she has been here since my conception and watched me grow.

She is my uncle’s wife. She is my aunt, Aunty Dara.

My mom is late. We lost her very early. I was told she died when I was three so I have no memories of her.

My father is a construction worker, a firm believer in the saying that ‘men ought to be men. That implies no silly tears, the ability to hold your emotions in, handle situations on your own, and do not fall prey to bullies. He’d rather you bully someone.

In other words, my dad could not be bothered with petty emotional issues.

Aunt Dara enjoys me zipping her clothes.

Many times, she would call for me from the room she shares with my uncle who is rarely at home. He works in another state. There were times she did in the presence of my dad, and he obliged.

On one occasion, Aunt Dara asks if I’ve started having sexual urges and if I ‘touch’ myself when I do. I became uncomfortable around her when she asked to see the size of my penis. She wanted to know if it was ‘healthy’ for my age and if I’d tried it on any girl or compared it with my male friends.

My initiation was a few months after then.

That day, she called me to her room as usual and asked me to unzip her dress.

I obliged.

She drew me closer and inspected my penis in her usual manner. She massaged through the fabric of my trousers and eventually brought it out and sucked on it. It was my first experience so I screamed. I didn’t know what to feel. She hushed and chastised me. She warned me to comply if not, I would receive several lashes of the whip from dad when he comes back.

“What did I do wrong?” I asked, fearful.

“You went out to play football with the other boys across the street without permission, say anything and I’ll lay complaints about you to your father!”, she threatened. I continued pleading and sobbing. I didn’t have to be a genius to know it was wrong.

When she was done, she consoled me and told me how lucky I was. I was initiated into sex by an experienced lady and the pleasure would override the feeling of guilt.

That was the beginning of my ordeal.

It’s been 2 years, three months, and five days. As she said, I began deriving pleasure from our affair. There were times I would seek her out for some minutes of pleasure and she would send me away when in the presence of other people. Then she would later call me back.

My dad noticed my lack of interest in school and playing with friends but attributed it to nothing. I began spending more and more time with Aunt Dara and dad seemed okay with it. Anything to get me out of his way and out of trouble. I tried to tell my dad once but lost my confidence upon remembering her threats. I didn’t trust my dad not to blame and punish me severely for it. She keeps saying I’ll be grateful to her in the future. I’ll be thankful she was my first, and for all she teaches me. How do I explain that my aunt Dara, who is supposed to be like a mother to me, is also my molester and the reason I’m contemplating experimenting with our neighbour’s daughter who is around my age?

Her name is Amanda, but her mom and stepdad call her Mandy. Mandy just moved in next door. Aunt Dara told me she lived with her dad after the divorce but he recently passed, so she had to move in with her mom’s new family. I’ve been observing Mandy. She is always sad and looks lost. Sometimes she walks into things and then catches herself before she observes her environment. I know something is wrong with her. But what could it be?

Sometimes, she forgets where she is.

I think I see myself in her.

Like a victim.

Lonely, and in need of affection.

Like when Aunt Dara and I just started. Maybe she just misses her dad. Just like I miss my mum sometimes, even though I don’t know her. I wonder if things would be different if she was here.

I shake myself from my wandering thoughts. Mandy, I have to find out what’s wrong with her.

Mandy is crying.

Her step-uncle who lives them is consoling her. She is trying to stand up from his lap. I see her trying to remove his hands from her waist. I know this because I’m looking through their window. He is trying to pull her back into his lap. I think it is her step-uncle’s room.

I hear her say, “Mummy”. Does she want to tell her mum? Did he beat her? Mandy is crying harder now. She says it is painful. What did he do? Is it what I’m thinking? I have to find out. I have to save Mandy.

I know what is wrong with Mandy.

Her step-uncle is defiling her. I heard her talking to herself. She doesn’t know how to tell her mum and stepfather. I think she’s crying because she was not introduced to sex by an experienced person like aunt Dara. She said I should be grateful to have been taught by her.

Perhaps Mandy’s step-uncle was not gentle with her. Aunty Dara has taught me how to be gentle. I think Mandy will be grateful to have me teach her. I know what to do. I know not to make her cry. I don’t want to see her cry again.

I have to find a way to teach her.

Aunt Dara says Mandy is travelling.

She is going to a boarding school. Her mom and stepdad agreed. I am sad. How do I teach her if she leaves? Since the day I saw her crying I haven’t seen her again. I think she doesn’t want to come out again. Her mum goes on all her errands herself. How do I get to teach her then? What if she cries again because she doesn’t know? I have to see her.

I know why Mandy is leaving.

She told her mum what happened and she wants her to leave the house for a while. I know this because I see them crying in Mandy’s room. Her mom doesn’t want to tell her stepfather. She says it would destroy her second marriage. She says people are already talking about her second marriage.

People will judge them if they hear what happened. So, Mandy has to go. Mandy has to leave the house for a while. Poor Mandy!

Mandy leaves today.

Her mom has been packing her belongings in the car. Mandy is not crying this time. She just looks lost. Like she doesn’t belong anywhere. I’m sad for Mandy. I’m sad for myself.

I just lost my first student even before she became one.