My Life in Social Media Streets (Part 2)

Dear friend, I regretted being given birth to. I regretted being a student. I regretted being a female. I felt like committing suicide but I couldn’t. I have no one to share my experience with. Who will I tell what was happening to me? Who will keep the secret of my sexual relationship with an unseen person.

Actually, I went home to inform my mum what I was experiencing but I didn’t have the courage of expressing myself to her when I met her. Despite the fact that depression was boldly written on face,  my mum was just busy asking me about my academic pursuit and kept requesting me to do house choirs for her. I was just hopeful that the situation would be over soon.

I also tried to discuss the issue systematically with Sister Kitaabah by asking her that “Is it okay for a lady to sleep and have dream of mating a man he didn’t know before?” Sister Kitaabah response was affirmative. She said that it is a sign that the lady is reaching her puberty stage. I got confused but I couldn’t ask further. I just raised another discussion.


When 200 level results was released, my G.P. grossly dropped. When I got home and showed it to my dad, he was also disturbed. He asked me what caused the poor G.P. Hmm…, my mouth was sealed and my eyes started pouring water. The water called tears was accomplished with sad voice. May Allah reward my father abundantly. He is a man worthy to be called true father, a role model, a psychologist and a teacher. My father placed the glass cup he was holding on the table, he stood on his feet and came to me. He hugged me tightly, not minding that I have grown up. He placed my head on his chest and asked me what caused the tears.

My mouth couldn’t speak yet. My crying became more and the tears flow more from my eye balls. The crying has invited my younger brother and sister to the sitting room. My mother remained on her seat, watching the drama. My dad realised that there was more to my crying. He has to draw me to my bedroom leaving other family members at seating room. He took me away the way a bride is being taken to his groom, and I followed her without objecting. When we got to my room, my father started rendering my lineage praise. He went on for about five minutes without stop. I didn’t know when I voiced out amidst tears:

“Dad, I am in trouble!!! I wish I have died before now…”


My expression shocked him but he pretended as if he wasn’t shocked. He tried to give me confidence of speaking out. He let me realised that only when I say what is bothering me I can be proffered solution.

“Dad, it is too hard to say! I can’t tell anyone!” I said again amidst tears.

My dad kept mute for some seconds. He suddenly speak “Were, you raped? And you got pregnant? And it was aborted?”


“Dad!!! Did anyone tell you about what happened to me?” I asked

“No one tell me anything. All I know is that any problem you have is my problem. I fathered you and it is my duty to attend to all your challenges. So tell me what happened”.

My dad expression and calmness gave me strength to speak out. I explained to him what was happening to me. He sighed heavily and asked either I have tell anyone, but I told him that I haven’t, that he is the first person I will inform. He begged me not to tell anybody, including my mum and I promised him I won’t. He told me to put on a smile. I did and we went back to sitting room.


Dear friend, I must confess to you, I started doubting either my mum gave birth to me since then. Her response and attitude to my predicament disgusted me. When my dad and I returned to sitting room, she didn’t feel eager to know what happened to me. All she said was:

Daddy and Daughter, you have settled everything behind us abi? O ti da!”

_To be continued_

Raheem Hameed


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