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So, a few days ago, a rape allegation case between a 2-year-old and a supervisor at Chrisland School, VGC Lekki, Lagos was brought to the limelight after NAN released a story of the court proceedings where the toddler, in a video recording, had accurately described how the 47-year-old teacher by name Adegboyega Adenekan raped her and her friend several times.
The school reportedly hired a Senior Advocate of Nigeria to defend the supervisor and the story, along with this move by the school has been causing an uproar on social media.
A few people have also used the opportunity to speak up and share their heartbreaking stories on being molested as children.
One of those people is Twitter user, @eketiette, whose vivid account of being molested by a trusted caregiver when she was only 3 has gotten a lot of reaction.
Below is her story:
I’m angry.
A Nigerian school hires a SAN to defend a teacher against a 3 y/old’s accusation of sexual impropriety.
When I read that headline, I felt a heavy ball drop in my stomach. A potpourri of pain, incandescent rage, horror etc.
I have been there. I was 3.
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
Didn’t want to write this. But I’ll do it for her. I’ll do it because some people, in the face of evidence properly collected, believe that child is telling tales.
Someone said, “He’s such a good Christian man. Very dedicated church worker. Loves his kids.”
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
All those qualities describe the teacher who locked my friend in the toilet every school day and forced her to perform fellatio on him. She was 5 y/old then.
I was 3 and I’ve never forgotten.
My saving grace, just as this child, was that I spoke quite well, have the memory of..
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
All those qualities describe the teacher who locked my friend in the toilet every school day and forced her to perform fellatio on him. She was 5 y/old then.
I was 3 and I’ve never forgotten.
My saving grace, just as this child, was that I spoke quite well, have the memory of..
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
…an elephant and an excellent relationship with my mother.
This was in the 80s.
He was our caregiver. Early twenties, smart (according to the adults around me), hard working, caring, etc.
I don’t remember much before then. But I distinctly remember the day it began.
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
It was during bath time for my late older brother and myself.
“Do you know what this is?” the Molester asked, pointing at my vulva and my brother’s penis.
“It’s our wee wee,” I immediately replied.
“Do you know what it’s used for?” he asked.
“To wee wee,” I replied, confused
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
He giggled. Can’t forget that high-pitched, asinine giggle.
“It has another use,” he said. “Don’t worry, one day, I’ll show you.”
I remember wanting to ask my mother what other use there was for our “wee wee.” But child that I was, I forgot.
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
Each day after that, this Molester would ask us that question, get the same answer, laugh or giggle, and promise to show us what our private parts could be used for.
I don’t know the timeline of this supposed grooming of his.
But I remember the day he made his move.
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
My parents were away at work. Perhaps we were on midterms or some holiday, because it was in the middle of the day and I was asleep.
“Baby,” he said, shaking me awake. Only my dad calls me baby. I thought it was him. So, I opened my eyes.
My father was the best fun daddy….— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
…a little girl could ask for. Nothing could keep me asleep if he was home.
When I opened my eyes and saw who it was, I closed them again. In my head I was a bit puzzled as to why he’d call me baby.
He lifted me from the bed and carried me to the lobby, where we had our….
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
….children’s dining.
I can still hear the sound of the chair scraping the floor as he pulled it out and sat down. Then he lowered me from his shoulder, spread my legs and sat me across his crotch.
“Baby, wake up,” he said.
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
How can I forget that low, heavy breathing? Or the wetness of his lips on my forehead and lips? How can I forget the urgency of his fingers as they parted my panties and fumbled around my vulva?
I cannot forget how he said, “Baby wake up. I want to show you love.”
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
Groggy, I opened my eyes, long enough to say, “B* I want to sleep.”
That was when he pushed me slightly away from himself, reached down, pulled down the zip on his trousers and brought out his penis.
I remember, because it was way bigger than my brother’s.
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
I tell you, the sleep left my eyes when he reached down, pushed my panties to one side, raised me just so and tried to put that humongous penis inside me.
The pain.
I cannot describe it.
It was bad. Worse than when I fell down and scraped my knee. Worse than anything before.
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
“B* stop! It’s painful!” I cried out.
“I’m sorry my baby. But it’s paining you because you’re not opening for me. Open your legs.”
These words were accompanied by a further spreading of my legs. Even that, hurt.
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
He tried again. This time, I hit his chest.
“Stop! It’s still paining me,” I said and started crying.
He said he was sorry and told me not to cry. Kept on saying, “Please open for me. Just open for me.”
“I’m opening but it’s painful,” I cried.
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
How can I forget that sigh of frustration he heaved? How he said, “OK. You’re not ready for me. I will be using my finger till you’re ready. It’s OK. Don’t cry again. Baby, stop crying.”
I stopped because the hurt was stopping. He took me back to bed.
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
My mother usually returned from work before my father. Back then, she was working and going to school, caring for my brother who suffered from sickle cell anaemia, me and my younger brother. We were all under 5.
But she always had time to talk to us. Always asked how our day…
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
…went and actually listened.
She was in the kitchen chopping up tomatoes. I walked in and quietly stood beside her.
“Nsido?” she asked. “What is it?”
“Mummy, what can we use our wee wee for?”
She turned and looked at me. “To pee, of course. What kind of question is that?”
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
“I told B* that it’s for wee weeing but he said that we can do another thing with it. He said he will show me and Ini. Mummy tell me, so I can tell him that I know.”
I can still hear the echo in the kitchen as the knife she held clanged on the table.
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
Oblivious, I went on.
“Today, he put his wee wee in my wee wee. Mummy, it was paining me. So I told him to stop.”
I can’t remember her expression, but can still feel the tremble in her hands as she turned, knelt before me, held my upper arms and said, “What did you just say?”
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
I repeated the same words.
By now, she was shaking like a leaf in the wind.
“He….he…. Oh God! I’m finished!” she whispered. “My child oooo!”
I thought I’d done something wrong.
“Mummy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it.”
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
“It’s not you, my darling,” she said, hugging me. By then she was crying.
She said I was brave. “I’m happy you told me.”
“You told me to tell you if anyone touches our wee wee,” I said.
Unlike her friends, my mother didn’t think sex education was too much for her toddlers.
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
Very early on, I knew the PANTS rule.
P- Private parts are private.
A – Always remember that your body is yours.
N- No means no.
T- There are no secrets from Mummy.
S – Say something, so I can do something about it.— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
I don’t want to go in to the details of how Mum nearly stabbed him with that kitchen knife. How she told Dad. How his rage terrified me. How he brought that fellow to the edge of life itself and how he’d be in jail for murder if not for my my mum.
But I can tell you that two…
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
… of my friends weren’t so lucky. Edna* was molested by her female teacher from when we were 5 till she turned 9.
That baby’s words, “This your bum bum is very sweet,” hit a nerve.
That teacher used to tell Edna the same thing while licking her vulva in the locked classroom.
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
Emem* wasn’t lucky either.
She performed fellatio on that teacher for years. Couldn’t tell anyone because her parents were hard as stone.
It was the 80s in Nigeria. People rarely if ever talked about child molestation. That’s why it’s grown into the monster it is.
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
No, it’s not a new phenomenon. Many teachers are paedophiles.
Many of these paedophiles are upright citizens of the society.Yes, children tell tales. But 3 year olds don’t tell à story consistently over and over.
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
So, think twice before you water down this horror into a he said – she said thing between a 47 year old man and a 3 year old baby.
Now, let me go find some cold drink and calm my nerves.
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
I didn’t said the teacher shouldn’t have legal representation.
I’d have preferred he get one himself, not the school offering the services of the their legal team.I also hate that many think the child is telling tales. Especially those who’ve got no experience with children.
— Eketi (@eketiette) February 14, 2018
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