Trigger Warning: Domestic and sexual abuse
At 17, one mistake changed Amaka鈥檚* (27) life. As punishment for bringing shame to her family, she was left in the care of the man who hurt her.
This is Amaka鈥檚 story, as told to Mofiyinfoluwa
That November, my legs felt heavy as I followed the directions Andrew鈥檚 friend had given me. 鈥淟ast door on the top floor,鈥 he鈥檇 said.
When I knocked, Andrew opened the door. His eyes darted down the corridor before he asked me to follow him somewhere private so we could talk.
I watched the colour drain from his face when I told him my father and uncle were waiting downstairs. When they came up and asked to meet his parents, he hesitated, then admitted that the woman we鈥檇 passed outside, frying akara, was his mother.
That was my first shock.
Andrew had always described his mother as a successful businesswoman with a big shop. My father looked around the shabby apartment, then at me. The disappointment in his face was so sharp I couldn鈥檛 meet his eyes.
I attended good schools, and everyone knew me as the brightest child in the family. Yet I鈥檇 ended up pregnant for a man beneath me.
Tears pooled in my father鈥檚 eyes as he said I needed to learn a lesson. He told Andrew he was leaving me in his care and would send my belongings the next day.
I watched my father and uncle walk away.
Even after they disappeared down the stairs, I told myself it couldn鈥檛 be real. Their anger would cool. They would come back for me.
They never did.
***
Growing up, I always felt dirty.
In church, they said sin made people filthy, and I believed I had more than enough of it. For as long as I can remember, a male neighbour touched me. We lived in an open compound, so he was always around. He would threaten to tell my mother I was moving with boys if I didn鈥檛 touch him back, and I knew that would end in a beating.
When my mother eventually found out, she blamed me. She said I tempted him by not sitting properly and wearing short clothes. Then she buried the incident because she didn鈥檛 want neighbours to think I was loose.
At 16, I was raped for the first time.
In 2015, while writing my Post-UTME, I stayed with my sister. She had night classes and didn鈥檛 want me alone, so she asked me to sleep at a trusted male friend鈥檚 place. He came home drunk that night and forced himself on me.
Afterwards, he warned me not to tell anyone or risk harm. I didn’t plan to anyway. My sister already made jabs about my 鈥減romiscuous spirit.鈥 I couldn鈥檛 give her more reason.
By then, I hated myself so deeply that I didn鈥檛 thing I deserved anything good.
That was how I ended up with Andrew*.
I met him while I was working as an attendant at a food supply factory. It was a weird place. Female workers latched onto men with the promise of fair treatment. If you rejected them, opportunities dried up.
There was nothing remarkable about Andrew. Under different circumstances, I might not have noticed him. But I knew staying close to him could make life at the factory easier, so I went along.
A few weeks in, he started pressuring me to meet him outside work. He suggested dinner, then 鈥渢alking鈥. I eventually agreed.
That day in June 2017, I told my mum we had overtime and went to the hotel address he sent. When I arrived, he casually mentioned we鈥檇 be going upstairs to a room.
My interest disappeared immediately, but I鈥檇 also spent my last cash on the hotel trip, so I went along with his request. However, when it was time to leave, Andrew refused to pay my fare. He wanted me to stay, and I knew that could only mean one thing: sex. I remember laying on the bed and pretending to sleep, hoping he鈥檇 leave me alone.
But he didn鈥檛. He had his fill of my body, even though the details of the night remained scattered in my head when I woke up the next morning.
Andrew didn鈥檛 deny when I confronted him. Instead, he said he鈥檇 used protection, with a finality that didn鈥檛 leave room for questions. I cleaned up, demanded the money he鈥檇 promised and left. After that, I cut him off. I wanted to erase the entire night completely.
Weeks later, my period didn鈥檛 come.
At first, I hoped I was just late, but my body began to change. As I ate more and gained weight, I grew scared. When I finally confided in a friend, I already knew the truth before any test could confirm it. I was pregnant.
I couldn鈥檛 afford the 鈧50k needed for an abortion at the hospital, so I settled for herbs. The seller had promised its efficacy, and promised it was the solution to my problem. At first, it felt like her words were true, as I made many painful trips to the toilet. But two months later, I was still very pregnant. And worse, there was no hiding the pregnancy anymore. A bump was stubbornly pushing through my clothes, and my secret to the world. When I visited my uncle and confessed to his wife, she carried the message to my mother, who was heartbroken and furious.
My aunt and uncle pressed to know the father of my unborn child, and I knew the man. Only, he had started avoiding me. Once Andrew found out I was pregnant, he stopped answering my calls altogether.
Days later, my family gathered for a family meeting where they all agreed that I had to find Andrew.
***
That afternoon, after my father and uncle left, I sat in a corner crying while Andrew and his three sisters argued about where to move me before their father returned.
When their father returned, I was still there, and he was furious.
He said Andrew could never get someone pregnant. If I was pregnant, I must have seduced him. Never mind that he was in his 20s and I was only 17. At the end of it all, I remained with them, and what a terrible experience it was.
Living with them showed me a new level of suffering. Every morning, I joined their mum to fry snacks, despite being pregnant and constantly tired. When I couldn’t keep up, they called me lazy.
Food became another punishment.
They mostly cooked meals heavy with smoked fish. The smell was terribly nauseating, and I threw up many times. Whenever I tried to explain my discomfort, Andrew鈥檚 mother labelled me spoilt. So most days I stayed hungry. Through it all, my mother still refused to speak to me. The only kindness I got came from my father. Whenever he wasn鈥檛 away for work, he stopped by with food and a little cash, then left before I could say much. Andrew didn鈥檛 care about me either. While I carried his child under his family鈥檚 roof, he dated someone else.
The only reason I survived was the neighbours. Andrew’s family had quarrelled with almost everyone in the compound, but those same neighbours showed me kindness. They fed me, let me sleep on their cool floors when the heat inside Andrew鈥檚 flat became unbearable, and treated me like I mattered.
To outsiders, Andrew鈥檚 family claimed I was a cousin from another state. It was meant to hide the pregnancy, though I doubt anyone believed it. They were especially careful about their church. On Sundays, they often left me behind.
Things got worse when I started attending with a Catholic couple upstairs. One Sunday, Andrew鈥檚 mother saw me leaving with the husband and twisted the story. She accused me of having an affair with the man and planning to give them my baby since they were still waiting on the Lord. After that, they banned me from visiting the couple.
***
I constantly feared my baby would die.
I had no antenatal care, and no one around me seemed concerned about my health. Seven months in, I developed a strange discharge. It frightened me, but when I spoke up, Andrew鈥檚 family dismissed me. So I went to a nearby church that offered free health checks.
That decision may have saved me.
A nurse examined me and saidI had an infection, malaria, and low blood count. Hearing all three at once terrified me, because I already felt my body weakening. I reached out to my uncle and father, and begged them to let me come home, but they only paid for the treatment. As far as they were concerned, I hadn鈥檛 served my punishment.
Labour itself felt like death.
I cried through the pain and felt life leaving my body with each contraction. I gave birth to my daughter after 12 hours鈥攁lone. It was only after I called to share the news that Andrew鈥檚 mother came to visit.
The first cloth my daughter wore was the wrapper I came to the hospital in. It was obvious no one cared for the baby or me. Not my mother. Not Andrew. He only showed up three days later.
Even after I was discharged, things didn鈥檛 improve. Andrew wanted sex while I was still healing. Every time I refused, he held back money for diapers. He had never treated me with kindness, but after the baby came, it became impossible to ignore.
Hearing people call me his wife made me feel sick, so I started planning my escape.
My chance came during a fight in the compound involving Andrew鈥檚 sisters, a neighbour, and the police. The matter was settled at the station, but it shook my parents. For the first time, they agreed it was no longer safe for me to stay there.
Andrew鈥檚 family was furious about my decision to leave, but I didn鈥檛 care.
I returned home in August, almost a full year after my family left me there, and I thought the chapter was finally behind me. But within weeks, Andrew鈥檚 family started calling again, saying they wanted to be involved in my daughter鈥檚 life. I blocked all of them.
Over the years, Andrew has tried to come back. In 2024, he reached out again, begging to be involved. He blocked me after I told him to start by sending 鈧50k monthly for childcare. That was all the answer I needed. I鈥檝e accepted that he doesn鈥檛 truly want to be a father. I won鈥檛 allow him to have that title without the responsibility.
Strangely, I don鈥檛 have regrets. The pregnancy was an eye-opener. There鈥檚 a lot of stigma attached to being a single mother, but I鈥檝e decided it won鈥檛 define me or stop me from chasing my dreams. In 2022, I applied to nursing school but wasn鈥檛 successful. For now, I work and hope I鈥檒l get into school if I keep trying. More than anything, I want to look back one day and be glad I beat the odds.
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