PROLOGUE
At this time, I don’t really know my strength but just what I need is just one slot to run my dream into reality, fit into my personality and become my own success. A life I pray for, a dream I anticipate, an opportunity I hope for.
Born twins, a boy and a girl; my first opportunity slipped by as I never saw the handsome face of a brother. Raised by a woman of virtue, I embraced the curse of single parenting. My first light of the day was when I smiled in the midst of strange people, hearing strange and distant voices but what I remember is the joy of a mother cuddling me up in the hospital amidst cheers and well-wishes after a safe delivery by professional medical personnel.
{As I rest on the same sick bed on which my mother died, I read out the chapters of my life.}
CHAPTER ONE {Tilly’s Life Account}
My mother who always hid herself from family and friends to avoid the possibility of being disgraced was only sixteen years when she gave birth. Disowned by a father and facing incessant chastisement from a mother, Tilly Mensah; originally named by her parents, could not stand the test of time but absconded from her parental home. She was born and bred in a wonderful home in Bantama, a suburb of Kumasi in the Ashanti Region but later dossed around streets in the capital city.
Commonly called by her nickname, Tilly Baby was the finest lady in town. She had everything because the parents were fabulously rich. Tilly Baby never lacked anything she requested, that was home sweet home. She attended one of the best schools in Kumasi, Alpha and Omega International, and later furthered to Yaa Asantewaah Secondary School (YASS).
Tilly Baby was a good girl, beautiful, intelligent but very naughty. I guess that was her worst enemy (yeah naughty). She always wanted to explore. As curious as she was, she would never let off anything she wanted to know.
Dad and Mum cherished their little angel but things turned sour when the love of the parents grew cold towards her. This was as a result of Tilly’s irrepressible behavior. She would go berserk whenever the parents exercised some level of control over her. She was a fully-grown lady now, at the age of sixteen.
She learnt a lot from friends. Yes, she really learnt a lot from friends!
At YASS, Tilly was entangled by the act of lesbianism. She became a member of the high class society in school due to her riches in abundance.
Like a bird who has no worry, Tilly started hopping from lesbianism to bottles to weeds and from weeds to men, not boys, and even “guys” was of a lower rank to her. She was so enamored with every man in a car, not taxi I mean.
She was better off with the big men and never paid attention to their wives. During one of her usual outings at the Yegola Nightclub, she met her fifteenth sugar daddy and they exchanged pleasantries. That was how the intimate conversation begun but this man was not ready to splash out on her without getting down her pants.
After gulping some bottles of beer, Tilly was fully-loaded inside out; so drunk and couldn’t realize how dazed she was that night out with Mr. Willie Duncan of Willie-D Financial Services. He drove Tilly in his Infiniti to his apartment; apparently that’s where he screws the young chicks.
Did Tilly realize she had not returned to her boarding home in school? No!
{Lights on, cool sensual music playing}
Willie-D quickly removed his shirt, opened his flap and got rid of his long pair of trousers and at long last a huge weapon was triggered in his boxer shorts ready to commit crime against humanity.
And there was this sixteen year old beauty queen lying on his bed with her legs straddled.
{Lights off, still cool sensual music playing}
All one could hear were sounds…oooosh…
Now, the consciousness of being defiled was revived in the Tilly’s mind. She then struggled to push the bulldozer off her but was overpowered by the sex-starved Chief Executive Officer of Willie-D Financial Services.
She shouted woefully amidst pains and resentment but I guess an angry serpent takes precaution before it launches an attack. Mr. Willie Duncan had it all planned well that the apartment was located at a very secluded place where no one bothered to venture.
After some minutes of steamy hot sex, Tilly was given 2 million cedis and bid goodbye.
She returned to school and kept it a secret, planning her next move to abort her shame but plans failed due to her fear of death. She therefore confided in a friend but faced her worst nightmare of betrayal when news spread all over campus that “Miss Tilly Baby has been bonked”. She couldn’t bear the shame and stigma anymore and therefore tried to end her life but her courage disappeared.
After few months, symptoms of pregnancy showed up and she was warmly escorted out of school to start her family in the house. That’s how Tilly Mensah born to Mr. and Mrs. Owusu Mensah begun her journey of misery.
Tramping about in Accra, she embarked on a sad journey. That was hard, the beginning and the end were tough. Is this the life she ever wanted? No!
CHAPTER TWO {My Life Account}
My name is Christabel Mensah, popularly referred to as Angel. I was born twin but my brother; I was told, died before I could say Hi. Tilly Mensah is my mother and she died four years ago leaving me alone to fight against the hazards of life.
This is my story...
My mother was the worst but the best mother I ever had. “Worst” because she would never let go of her past experiences. They ruled her life and controlled her actions. She resented every living creature called man but became an object of sex for them. By having sex with every man she stumbled upon and destroying their homes, she was convinced and satisfied she was doing the right thing.
This led to her sudden death after one night out unprotected exposed her to HIV/AIDS and rendered her HIV-positive. My mother died of the disease but the best thing about her was when on her sick bed, she said to me “Girl, the life that I lived is hard to define, live yours wisely.”
Tears trickled down my face. My Mum was long gone and I was only fourteen years old. How could I survive without her? She loved me and provided everything. The bitter part is I don’t even know my grandparents; whether they are alive or also dead.
I don’t have a close friend because my mother never gave chance for that to happen. I was still in Junior High School and had not even finished paying off my fees. We live in a rented apartment but I don’t know if my mother fully paid up her debt.
Several thoughts swam through my mind as I held my mother’s hand in agony. The doctors and nurses would not let me go down that lane. They told me it is well but deep down my heart I had lost a mother.
She was swaddled in a white cloth and rushed to the morgue. I wish I could bid her goodbye; I wish I could ask, when will you be back? But she never heard my screams; she was silent and never listened to my voice.
Oh Lord! What am I going to do all alone in this lonely world? I don’t have a clue to the answers.
That day I slept with her in the hospital. I cried profusely but my tears could not rain down on her dead body to revive her back to life. And this is how my Mum left me with nobody in this world.
CHAPTER THREE {after death, what next?}
So, four years after my mother’s departure, I have grown into a big girl of eighteen years. How did I survive?
That day before I left the hospital, I met Mr. Franklin Graham who volunteered to make me one of his children. My foster dad took care of me. He was a doctor or should I say he is a doctor? Yes, he works at the Ridge hospital in Accra.
He saw the pains in my eyes and devoted to take good care of me. He transported me to my foster home and family where I lived till eighteen years. When I reached home, I was kindly welcomed and I thought everything would be rosy now. I greeted my foster Mum who then directed me to my well-kept room. I was happy and nearly forgot the misery of losing my own mother. Each and every day, I would wake up to see a well-laid table with dishes of food enough to satisfy my stomach. I was leaving in a haven where my joy was abundant and my peace was secure.
I was enrolled into a Roman Catholic school because my foster family were all members of the Catholic church. In fact, I never did any house chores because we had a house help and therefore lived like any of my siblings. In school, I did my best to study hard and passed my B.E.C.E with distinction.
The hardships then begun when I turned out to be much clever than my siblings. After I received my B.E.C.E results slip, I happily came home shouting and making merry with the idea that my parents would be happy for their daughter but things took a different turn when I showed it to them and received no feedback. I could virtually read aggression on the face of my mother and shock on my father’s. I became the cynosure of all eyes as everybody watched me and the message I could read from their behavior was; they are habouring something bitter within.
Why? Aren’t they happy I’ve passed?
I therefore walked up to my room and buried my head in thought.
CHAPTER FOUR {my woes}
The subsequent events…
My foster family’s relationship turned sour towards me. Now, my dinning periods were shortened and I was relegated to the kitchen to eat and wash all the plates. This I thought was another step to teach me how to be a good wife but it turned out to be a punishment for no reason as it became a daily routine.
My siblings always abstained themselves from me though it was not a decision they had to make. I felt like a monster if not a devil in the house. My line of conversation with my family was cut and hopes for the future were gradually diminishing.
My Duty Roster…
Though I used to wake up early, I had never woken up at dawn to do any house chore or whatsoever before. But I had to battle with my hours of sleep since I virtually had none, just working and working with no pity. They wouldn’t beat me up should I skip any house chores but would deprive me of food and even water to bathe for days to compensate their anger. I didn’t still know my wrong to merit such consequences of my actions and none of them was ready to let me in on what has apparently necessitated the reactions of my parents and siblings.
I did the ironing, washed the utensils and clothes, scrubbed the toilet and bathrooms. These I did with no regrets but pains and sorrow.
I remember one day when I was washing the utensils, a plate slipped through my fingers and broke into pieces as if to aggravate my woes and plights. That day I had my first merciless beating. Sometimes, I thought it was all a nightmare or probably scenes in movies but I felt the pains all over my body and this couldn’t have been any of the two.
My room was closed and I was compelled to share a room with the gatekeeper in the house.
I had enough of this treatment and it was time to know my fault. I then accosted my mother to at least tell me my fault but she rained insults and curses on me. In fact, she cursed my dead mother too.
My mistake…
At this time, I had the Almighty God to settle scores with. So, whenever I f0und myself all alone, I prayed to Him. I told God to change my situation and bring back the love of my parents but every day was another day of misery, pain and bitterness.
I thought God was also fed up with me. But He wasn’t; I didn’t just believe He would pull me through.
CHAPTER FIVE {the bitter pill}
My dad traveled abroad to undergo some medical training which meant that I was left in the custody of a woman who despised me for nothing. Though my dad sometimes applauded her for meting out horrible punishments on me, he would never have condoned his wife’s cruel acts.
His absence upgraded my misery. I was tormented and left to my fate. Not that I didn’t attempt going on a suicidal mission but I feared losing my life. My mother in full glare of my siblings poured hot water on me because I knocked a brother for calling me a witch.
I couldn’t have a wink of sleep since I was always in a pensive mood and the only one who seemed to care was Nana Kwame, our gatekeeper. Anytime he saw me thinking, he would cuddle me up and inject me with some words of inspiration which always soothed the pains in me.
My mother would never give me a reason for penalizing me, yet she justified all her actions. In fact, at that moment of torment, I knew my dream of furthering my education was shattered.
The worst happened a night after I was heavily slapped by my mother for not washing my siblings’ clothes on time. That night I lamented like I’ve had a fresh start of my biological mother’s death.
Where was my mother’s spirit? Has she not seen and heard enough? These were questions I never had answers to.
In my lamentations, the only person I could confide in was Nana Kwame who took advantage of my sorrow that night. I was in his arms and he held me tight to console me. But his consolation was not his intent, he had a different agenda. He told me everything will be okay and I should not cry again. He pumped sweet words into me that cooled me down. He always had a way to make me feel lively again.
But this moment, his motive was far from what I thought. After running his hands through my hair, I innocently slept. Then I felt some rough palms crawling on my skin. I immediately was awakened to the idea of rape. His hands were later paving way in my pants. I liked it but it was hurting me, then I smelled a rat in his attempts.
I jumped onto my feet and warned him to quit or else, I will scream but I knew that would have ended me in more trouble since my mum had warned me never to shout in the house again.
I was afraid to shout nonetheless I only wanted to use it as a tool to ward off Nana Kwame’s sexual attempts. But as a creepy cat ready to pounce on a mouse never fears the sound of its mother, he was not even perturbed by my attempt to scream. He grabbed me angrily and firmly, pushed me on the mattress and deflowered me.
I had been raped but I couldn’t tell anyone.
CHAPTER SIX {my mistake II}
My dad arrived from his long trip and supplied us with new clothes and shoes. Though he witnessed the actions by his wife towards me, he never uttered a word to her. This is called abetment; he condoned, concealed and abetted his wife’s despicable actions.
I hid my sexual relation with the gatekeeper from them because I was scared and feared being disgraced. I continued my sexual acts with him, I enjoyed it and besides he gave me money whenever he returned from my mother’s supermarket.
After a month, I couldn’t hide it anymore since it became obvious to everyone. I was vomiting and turned pale. My mother saw it but I denied it. She beat me up but I denied it. My dad was angry and backed her wife to beat me up.
I couldn’t hide it anymore from the doctor and therefore told a lie to protect Nana Kwame; a mistake I made. My parents’ unending quest to find the truth left me with no option than to tell them I was pregnant.
They asked: Who’s responsible for your pregnancy? Then I told a lie.
My answer…
That day we attended Uncle Fred’s party, I was raped by an unknown man.
{It was ridiculous though but they believed my lie.}
Dad said he could not take care of me anymore and labeled me as a prostitute. Mum said I am a disgrace to the Graham’s family. Though nobody threw me out of the house, two weeks after my confession; I walked out and never returned.
Nana Kwame did not ever call me, he did not care. He never sought my hideout. He also left me to my fate. I thought I was protecting him but I should not have trusted him.
I went far away from my foster home to settle at Sodom and Gomorrah where the fun begun.
CHAPTER SEVEN {the fun}
I stepped into the shoes of my dead mother after making my first abortion in life. I jumped into bed with every person with a front stick. It was sweet because they paid me well. I was always working in the night.
My breakfast, supper, dinning and shopping all came from my night work. They call it prostitution but I call it a night flight. In order to go down with more customers a night, I smoked hard and injected myself with heroin. Who supplied all the drugs? The drug peddlers did.
I had every narcotic to make me strong in every sexual activity. I didn’t have a need for a child, so I protected myself (if it’s not on, it’s not in). A certain night after my normal sex sessions and heading home, I was met by a very deplorable situation.
I boarded a vehicle fully-loaded with three guys, a driver and passengers. I directed the driver to my house but later realized he had taken a different route along a certain bushy stretch of road. I told the driver he had taken the wrong path, he affirmatively responded and that night, I was gang raped.
I never told anyone because I didn’t want anyone to know about it. The incident resulted in another pregnancy and I aborted to bury the truth.
I was not only engaged in sex activity but also I was a stripper. My striptease took me overseas when I was contracted by a certain white guy who came down to catch some fun with black ladies. I embarked on a long trip to the United States of America where I counted my money in dollars and also had enough men to satisfy their libido.
At this moment, I thought life was all about sex, money and entertainment. I forgot I had a father and family in heaven who were watching every step I took in my journey of life.
I was ruling my own empire. I was rich, proud and extravagant but lost my joy. I was not happy. All along I had a strong conviction that all these were bad. I continued my new career though my dream was to become an advocate and human rights activist. This dream was long gone and given way for my sexcapade. I tried to stop but whenever I paused, I was sex-starved and needed refueling of my sex tank.
My mum before she died said: “Girl, the life that I lived is hard to define, live yours wisely.”
The truth is I was a perfect contradiction of my mum’s expectation.
CHAPTER EIGHT {the aftermath}
During one of my outings, I met this good-looking man who approached me but to my uttermost surprise asked for friendship instead of the usual thing. He introduced himself as the ‘Lucky man’; a name I found very strange though I did not bother to demand further explanation.
I guess I was also interested in him. He was very handsome and articulate. He had a manly voice and when I heard him say hello, I melted before responding hi. He was looking presentable in his suit and nice slim tie. His white set of teeth sparkled and his smile stole me away from my seat to his table where we both swigged down some fine exotic wines. In addition to all the beautiful features of Mr. Lucky man, he was also a Ghanaian.
We had a very intimate but friendly conversation and later exchanged mobile numbers. We therefore advanced our intimacy on the phone till I knew his residence and he knew mine too. I virtually learnt everything about him and he seemingly learnt a lot about me.
His main concern was what a pretty girl like me was doing at the nightclub in the late hours of the day. This I presumed was a stupid question to ask but I did what I know best; I lied. In response, I told him a friend took me there to chill out a bit and sweep my stress and worries away. Again, someone believed me but he believed because he had his own hidden motives.
After some months, I was head over heels in love with him and we started a passionate lovey-dovey relationship. We had the relationship for two years. He knew I was rich and I believe that was the reason he quickly jumped when I said yes to his proposal.
As the adage goes; not everything that glitters is gold, I realized behind his presentable looks, he was as broke as a church mouse. Actually, he had come to America to push his luck. In the name of love, I fed him with my riches. I was sincere about my feelings towards him and I was thinking of quitting my sex addiction and striptease. I changed his wardrobe, bought him a car and sometimes took charge of his rent. In fact, all he had to do was to ask and it shall be given, seek and he shall find, knock and I shall open the door.
To him, I was a banker yet he never bothered to find out the name of my bank or even pay me a visit in my bank. All this while, I allowed love to overshadow my sense of judgment and reasoning. There was every indication my fiancé was not intensely in love with me but I was blinded by love.
CHAPTER NINE {why I’m telling my story}
Since the rule was to ask, he exploited my openness and kindness. He told me several stories about his sister’s health and requested huge amounts of money from me. Though I didn’t ever get the chance to see his sister, I gladly gave out my money to him to save his sister’s life.
The next story was when he told me his Ex-girlfriend had threatened to sue him for dumping her. I didn’t understand why but the simple reason was he banged her and the Ex-girlfriend on the basis of such mishap wants to blackmail him. I therefore gave him money as requested to compensate her.
I realized all that this guy sought was my money but I sincerely loved him and was not ready to hurt him. Yet his incessant demands were not over and he never probed to find out the real source of my wealth. I kept paying him without complaints though I didn’t understand any of this. I mean why would he ask me for almost everything when he is a man and can work too?
I remember one specific Thursday in his apartment; I brought the issue up and asked why he never bought anything for me yet demanded everything from me. He became angry because he accused me of plotting to jilt him. He threw me out of his apartment in anger and stopped picking up my calls from weeks to months.
I therefore sent him several texts to express how sorry I am but received no feedbacks. We later came back together after he accepted my apology. Then he resorted to making demands for sex which I easily gave in to please his ego. I was still a stripteaser and a professional one as such but he was completely ignorant of it. However, I had stopped having sex outside and even in my five years of fervid sex activities, I stayed protected.
He never did anything for me except we were under the bed sheet.
My fiancé and I were happily back together and everything seemed to be alright again until he requested a very exorbitant amount of money to start a business. A business he said would bring us great fortunes. He told me he had secured a lucrative contract with a certain Chief Executive Officer of a certain company (I don’t really remember the name of the company) who was ready to consign to him computers, television sets and office appliances worth 20 million dollars.
The money he requested was very huge but he promised to refund it as soon as he starts his business. I agreed to help him out even though the money I had in my account was only a quarter of the money he requested. I therefore phoned my friends who gave me some money to add up to what I had in my account but with surety that I will refund it ASAP. I also contacted some wealthy men I knew in our society and they also helped amidst demands for sex which I craftily declined.
CHAPTER TEN
Albeit, the money I got was not fully up to the 20 million dollars, however, it was moderate and I gave it to him and told him to also contact his colleagues for the rest. In fact, I emptied my account to help my fiancé.
He collected it, thanked me and bolted without leaving traces. He cut off his telephone line and covered his traces so that I could not find him anywhere. During our relationship, he introduced me to a certain guy who he said was his friend, so I quickly rushed to him to inquire about his possible whereabouts. His friend told me the day after I gave him the money, he told him (his friend) he was returning to Ghana.
That’s the only information he could give me. I immediately burst into tears; my heart was broken beyond repair. I cried like a baby and my only solace was my former self.
He was also gone. The man I truly loved and trusted took my life away.
That day I was so broke, even his friend provided money for my transportation. I went to the club and drank myself to the point of death.
I don’t remember what else happened that night but Ameyaw, this is why I’m on this sick bed HIV-positive and very weak. I guess my dream as an advocate and human rights activist has now been fulfilled as you will be my mouthpiece for the women out there.
EPILOGUE
And this was the last thing she told me before passing on to glory. She was my friend too and her dead mum was once a friend. Christy as I used to call her was only 26 years old and died at age 26 in her motherland; Ghana. She could have survived but the poison she took had adverse effect on her and rendered her lifeless.
You may blame her for her woes. You may insult her for her stupidity. You may chastise her for trusting a man who deserved not. You may blame her mother for leaving so soon. You may curse her foster family for rejecting her. You may punish her for the life she lived. But did she really have a choice?
Day in and Day out, we hear cries of women brutalized by men. We hear stories of abortion and rape cases. We hear women battered and butchered to death or a state of unconsciousness. What have they really done to merit these actions?
Mothers are left to single-parent a family. Daughters are left to the mercy of men. Ladies are left to the misery of their lives. But none chose a life like this. Some are just tormented by events in life but they need ME and YOU to put a stop to this cruel nature.
SAVE A LADY TODAY AND SHE WILL GROW TO BIRTH JOY TOMORROW…
By Adu Gyamfi Ameyaw
