About Rape….

Once in my life, I was nearly raped.


If we continue to keep quiet about these things, it will happen to someone you know or even you. Your daughter will be an endangered specie since they can be raped in a church, school, park, office etc


It happened while I was working with Compass.
This guy, a staff whom we only barely exchanged greetings whenever he sauntered into the newsroom had approached me one day asking about work and if I was enjoying the office.
It was my second month there. I didn’t know his department. Maybe he was at the printing section but I only saw him once in a while. Only journalists sit in the large newsroom. I was sharing a desk with my goon, Jonathan Eze who was the head of features desk. Sometimes, I’d be on that desk alone while Eze would be on the field scouting for news(mostly high profile gigs).


I responded that I was enjoying the office.
“Have you been paid?”, he asked
“No”, I haven’t.
“Come, let me take you to account section so that you can complain”, he said
So I followed him. I was almost two months old but I had never gone beyond the news room and the secretary to the MD’s office upstairs. I also discovered another smaller newsroom downstairs which looked like a common room. That was the place I usually went to transcribe interviews, being a very quiet place.
We kept walking. We went down a hall, passed some offices down another hall, walked into a very dark passageway that was deserted. I kid you not, I kept walking behind this guy for close to 20mins and we were still within the building. Later he took me through an underground tunnel and that was when alarm bells started ringing in my ears. I kept asking “are we not there yet?” He said almost.
I was already tired. We were no longer seeing any offices underground. We were not meeting people on the way. I never knew the office was that big. So I told him I was going back. I didn’t want my salary again. Just as I made a u-turn, he grabbed my hand forcefully and held it tight. His face had changed. I could see the look in his eyes, the raw hunger, he turned to a beast in nanoseconds. We both knew what was going to happen but he didn’t want violence unless I refused to cooperate. So he first begged and said ‘please’. Just ‘please’.


I began to struggle to set my hands free. Then I agreed with him and said okay. So he loosened his tight grip on my hand. Then I ran as if my life depended on it. I didn’t even know where I was going. I didn’t know how we got underground. I ran till I saw someone who directed me back to the newsroom. I never saw the hediot at the newsroom again. I was too shaken. I left compass at the end of that second month. Not because of him. I got another job at a FMCG company just behind compass but I was already done with Lagos. I had other plans.


Let me tell you the funniest thing about the guy. He was a Muslim fanatic. The ones whose trouser stop above the ankle. A Tabliq. Fair skin, harmless as a dove. Always wearing a Taqiya(skull cap worn by Muslim men) with native buba and sokoto. Always walking alone(disaster always walks alone).
This happened at the office, in broad daylight. If God wasn’t on my side, if I hadn’t pretended for him to release me, it would have happened and no one would have known.


The apologetics/the narcissists/other he-goats would have made him the villain while painting me black for following him(even though I was tricked first, by his pious look and two, by the fact that he was helping me). Following him means consent.
Being female in Nigeria is hard truly. I’m writing all these because of the young lady who was raped and murdered in redeemed church. It left a sour taste in my mouth. May history never be kind to such men. God didn’t take permission from anyone before he dealt with David for sleeping with Uriah’s wife and killing him afterwards. David paid for the rest of his life. His own child also slept with his wife on his matrimonial bed. Some people don’t believe in karma but I’m talking about God that takes vengeance.
You can’t even be kind to a man in Nigeria, he thinks you are interested in him. You can’t give a man a cup of coffee in the courtroom, he begins to harass you with seductive messages.
One time in court, I helped a man type a court order, facilitated the fast printing, Milord’s signature, endorsement and payment through remita. This man said thank you all right. But he got my number and the next thing he said was ‘do you stay alone? When can I come and greet you?’
If Abuja men tell you ‘when can I come and greet you?’, it means when can I come and sleep with you.😊
All these men are in churches and mosques. They hold key positions. They are respected. But they are ravening wolves. They are beasts in human clothing.
In church, pastors are fond of saying ‘walk up to three people and shake their hands. Tell them you are happy to see them in church”. Then, you begin to see rowdiness. Some men going to touch another man’s wife or young men grabbing any lady that catches their fancy.


No kidding.
One yellow brother in my church, let me call him Alabi yellow once tried this nonsense with me. He grabbed my hand in a firm handshake and started to fling it. It was so painful. I had to hold my upper limb to prevent it from falling but this Igbo man didn’t care about my discomfort. He kept on wringing my hands. Long after everyone had greeted, he was still holding my hand firmly. Sometimes, he would be passing behind me and touch my shoulders as a form of greeting. I hate these things. Why must you touch me to greet me? I reported him at the HQ.


A woman is endangered everywhere she finds herself. Who raised these men? Who formed them? Let’s not even talk about the ones who believe they are God’s gift to women. Who believe that your whole life revolves around them.
The funniest thing is women who protect their husband from other women. Who think it’s about the other woman. Who fight every woman that comes near their husband. Who vindicates their husband and maltreat their househelp after catching them together. These set of women are jokers. The day they discover who they really got married to, they will look like werey.


It’s about your community philanderer. You should come to the street and see what your precious husband is doing. It doesn’t matter that he goes to church with you. He cannot control his raging John thomas. Maybe you will have a rethink about the glowing Facebook tributes on his birthday and those seemingly perfect family pictures. Some of these men even have kids outside that they’ve not told you about.

👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇
Abubakar Adam Ibrahim is the author of Season of Crimson Blossoms. I follow him on Facebook and he wrote this on his page yesterday………..👇👇
“A friend recently told me how her colleague tried to drug and rape her in her office and now Uwavera Omuzuwa was raped and murdered in a CHURCH in Benin.
Being female in Nigeria, and most parts of the world, means you are not safe in your workplace, in your home or even in your place of worship. We all know of someone or have heard of someone, woman and girl, who was raped in her home, at school, in a place of worship sometimes by people who should look out for them.
One of the most shocking moments in my life was at Kabafest when a panellist asked any woman who had ever been sexually assaulted or threatened to stand up and all the women, in a hall of hundreds, stood up. Every single one. Those old enough to be my mothers, and those barely in their teens. As a man who writes women, who has heard such dreadful accounts first hand, this floored me”.

Author

nikeolasiyan@yahoo.com
She has won many awards in writing and poetry amongst which are CLO essay competition (1st Prize Southwest) NDIC essay competition(5th Prize in the southwest) and a World Bank Essay Certificate of Participation She has worked with woman.ng as a content editor and a host of sites as a ghost writer. She has written great inspirational content for fashion brands/blogs. She has been featured on radio and recently added public speaking to her portfolio. You can hire her to write a professional/business profile for you, online content editing, book editing, guest blogging, ghostwriting, content creation or if you need copies of her book, contact her via nikeolasiyan@yahoo.com Facebook.com/Yetunde Olasiyan instagram.com/Yetunde Olasiyan Follow her business page on Instagram @officialladywriter

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