Detached

I still have nightmares. They get worse every night. The things I see in my sleep are disturbing; from being pushed into an abyss to being shoved into a whirling storm. I know something is wrong with me. I think I am going crazy. My therapist says it is normal— the nightmares and bouts of depression. How in the world can this be normal? Can he even hear himself? Really, what does he know? I am losing my mind and I just want him to make it stop!


I seat in the therapist's office and stare at him blankly. I am really beginning to hate him for opening sixteen years old scars. I should have gotten over it already. Why is this experience so difficult? I am struggling to maintain the calm. I need to get through this session.

It is the first quarter of the year 1999, it is late and time for bed. Dad has just gotten back from his trip to Benin Republic, so we are allowed to stay up an extra 30 minutes. Everyone is talking and excited about the things he brought from his journey. Mommy is not around- she traveled for a conference two days before dad came back. I am wearing the red sweat pants mom got for me with a pale blue shirt. Everyone is back to their various rooms now. Aunty Carol, Amaka and I share the same room. Amaka is not at home, she is in boarding school now.

I am heading to my room when my cousin Raphael reminds me that we have not made his bed. Raphael and I are very close – he is my best cousin. we make his bed together and he allows me to jump on it to make it comfy. I am tired and want to sleep, but I rush to his room because I don’t want to miss the chance to jump and laugh until my stomach hurts. He climbs on the bed, for a second I think he wants to jump with me, then he pushes me on the bed and we roll for a while - then he is on top me. At first it feels like I am dreaming – I feel his weight on top of me and he is struggling to untie my sweat pants. I try to push him off but he is stronger than me. I let out a small yelp. He covers my mouth. I think the worst has already happened until I feel the shattering pain...

I’m back to my room, after what seems like forever. I wobble back and forth then head to the bathroom. I sit on the toilet to pee and wish I didn’t - it feels like salt is being poured on an open wound. Everyone one is asleep now, it’s just me... if I die today I will go to hell! I know I did something wrong and I am ashamed. I notice the small dash of blood on my panties. I hurriedly remove it and put it in my school bag. The next morning aunt Carol will find the panties in my bag and bury it outside the house in the maize farm. She is the only one who knows. She asks me not to tell anyone or Raphael will lose his school sponsorship from dad – and that would be selfish of me.

A week later mom and dad talk in hushed tones as I am taken to see the doctor. They say I have a vaginal infection – candidiasis. Mom says it is from the toilet at school and I should be careful not to sit on it while I pee. And she gives me an ointment to rub down there every morning and night for two weeks.

Dad says I am possessed because I talk to spoons, plates and cups and I like to be by myself. He says only children who are possessed by evil spirits speak to themselves or inanimate objects. So I am taken to the church and the pastor prays for me fervently.

I’m so scared. I can’t be in the room alone. I keep thinking Raphael is going to come back for me, even if he has returned to boarding school – he is in SS1 now and he is doing great at school. Dad says if he keeps it up he would buy him a bicycle. My nights are long and I have nightmares of blackness – being pressed or falling in an endless pit. Mom says I look pale and I fall sick too often even if I am not sickle celled. I told Amaka and Chima about Raphael and me when they returned from boarding school, but the laughed at me and said I have always liked attention. Aunt Carol overheard me telling them and she gave me a dirty slap and asked why I would lie about my cousin. Later on she bought me chocolates.

I am at university now - I don’t go home for holidays. I told my parents that my course work is quite demanding and I can’t afford to take breaks. They are so proud of me for studying very hard. In all honesty, I don’t want to see Raphael. Anytime I am around him he triggers something in me I can’t quite explain.

For fifteen years I thought I was fine, until my first attempt at sex and my walls came crashing down. I was so numb and just wanted to get it over and done with. I don’t know if it was selfish of me not to have told Gbenga that I was raped at the age of 8. I just felt so much time had passed and it shouldn’t matter. Besides, I thought I had taken care of it. It was Gbenga who suggested that I see a therapist. I told him I would be fine, I just need more time. But he wouldn’t hear any of it.

And now I stare at my therapist and he reminds me of Raphael...