The Corruption of her.

Olufisayo.

You know better than to complain about family issues or good fortunes to your friends ,even when you moved from your old house to a new house in Ikoyi.

your mother had already told you that they wish you nothing but bad luck. 

Who are you not to believe her? 

When you were 12, you had been kissed by your half-muslim half christian cousin, Salaudeen

Deen; to his friends; whom you have also kissed by 14. You sit at the back of the church because of your behaviour, as if it would make God less aware of your sins. 

You couldn't wait to be 17 and wear proper buba to weddings which seemed to be every    Saturday with your mother. Mostly because you knew the men , both married and unmarried would be making some deeply inappropriate remarks at you when your mother wasn't watching. And you enjoyed every single one but openly you held your face right ; because shakara is your birthright as 

a respectable “good” girl. It somehow reinforces your “goodness” as if it was not evident by how low you greeted everyone your parents knew. 

You are a very good student, its A or The cane, both articles you hate. 

Your mother is fair skinned, but as a baby she was as dark as your father. Maybe your skin will be like hers when you're older. Your niece Tomisin, your mother likes her better than you, because she spoke with such finesse; a testament of her British education.  You started hanging out with 22 year old Bunmi at 14; you want her easy superficial life. You never went parties, how can you? But you still hung out with Bunmi and her “boyfriend” after school ; and even let him push himself inside you when she wasn't around and you stood there fearlessly when she kissed you too. It’s fine, because your mother’s sister knows Bunmi’s aunty from church. They said she was a good girl too, just like you. 

When you started at University, you desperately wanted attention, you wanted to tell your friends stories about how your lecturer wanted to sleep with you, because it was so on Nollywood. SO even when you went to bed every night your inbox a graveyard. You told them “he wont stop texting me”. You can’t sell what you don't have. When you started sleeping with a married banker, no one asked you to, you walked down that path by yourself…searching for something…control? acceptance? 

Your good girl facade is your greatest weakness, with your lustful ambitions of more than your big picture.

Fauziya  

You are sheltered. At home they call you “baby” ; your family consider themselves more open-minded than their friends but you must never slip and let them ever find out your boyfriend is a Micheal not a Kabir. You are never without a scarf at home. Your mum always thinks its the piety she has instilled in you, but you are desperately hiding the weave you have on. If only they knew. You're actually cool with your father’s third wife, your mother is the first and that somehow makes you and your 3 other blood siblings feel superior; because in your mind your mother is the first, true and actual love of your father’s life. Disregarding that he married all 3 in the space of 5 years. 

But when you are telling stories of your family to your white friends you always just say “my mom”  letting them believe its one woman, the vagueness a blanket to your insecurity. But to your Nigerian friends you say “my stepmom”, drawing the line in the sand as to which of your mothers they must love and respect and say is the prettiest amongst your other mothers. 

You are extremely beautiful , and you know it although you love to act oblivious in your false humility charades. Your friends , at school always call you Hausa or Fulani and you proudly try to explain that your grandmother is actually shuwa arab effectively ignoring the Nupe one. You carefully never mention how your grandmother is actually 49 years old, because people would start to ask questions, even when they your mum looks so young you casually smile and say “all the women in my family are like that”. 

You are a “good” girl Hauwa, but you will lie at night wondering if where you can find fake blood to fake your virginity on your wedding night. Hoping you will marry a man whom doesn't care. But the next evening you tell your 2nd mum you will be right outside the gate with a visitor and she smiles, she has told her own sisters that the first wife’s daughter is a prostitute. She smiles anyway. You let   Micheal push his fingers inside you, but you never do that with Salim, because he is Hausa; he might not marry you or tell everyone not to marry you. 

Your father likes you, nothing deep, you never have deep conversations , he doesn't even care that your grades are better than your brothers every time. You have the relationship between two fake friends, just on the surface. But you make everyone else believe you're a daddy’s girl.  He looked away when his friends whose wives your mother and father joked-pitied behind their backs at dinner always had long conversations with your or your sister and even slipped you a bundle of 1000 Naira notes when they came around. Your mother always says “an gode” but you are fully aware of the hesitation and distrust in her eyes. She says never let your step sisters or other mothers know of this. 

Your other sisters get thick bundles too and they are told not to tell her. 

You jokes about Lagris with your blood sisters and friends, he was the richest of your father’s friends and all  outwardly scorned him but inside of you , you knew you would jump at the idea of marrying him, no hesitation with all his 4 wives. You're close with your sister Hanan, sister from wife 2 , but you secretly despised her because she had 46k followers on Instagram, you have 12k. 

You are a willing and active-participant in the passive aggressive sibling rivalry fuelled by your parents . 

Harriet 

When your first menses came, your sister told you to be careful with men, your mother didnt.

You are sure that your father whom lives on the Island for some reason , and your mother and siblings on the Mainland ; his mother ; yes, she wanted to kill you : this knowledge is based on your own mother’s intuition.

You have always looked down at your friends whose parents are known to be polygamous. Perfectly ignoring that you have a little sister whose mother was not your own. Your father is not married to any other woman, or even your own.  Your grandmother said your mother tricked broke your father’s heart, her son when you were four. At 8 your cousin Buzo said its a lie your mother was his girlfriend . But your sister, the one whom you trust said they are married and that you should not worry, you believed her. But not once did you dare ask your parents what is up with them. They are good friends. 

When at school some people called your sister a thief , you had gotten into a fight and your defence is that “my father is rich”.  You have that once belonged to your friends, clothes you “borrowed” from friends in the absence of their knowledge. Your sister knew and she just said “naughty girl” in a very non-disapproving manner.  You always write in every form mother’s occupation as “business-woman” , she travelled a lot .. Port Harcourt, Abuja sometimes even Kaduna. But she never brings home any goods she bought. She must have ordered them. Smart woman. You always asked why your little brother Benjamin never came with you when you travelled to Imo to visit this your grandmother that wants to kill you or go with your to see your father. Your mother told you he is too small to travel without her , its true he is at the tiny age of 4. But you love her without questions, and deep down you feel like you owed her and are grateful to her for just…nothing.

As far as anyone in school knows, you have two houses; one in Mainland ; one in Island. 




The thing about corruption of the female child, it is often attributed to some form of external factors, which is to some extent true, we are at the end of the day a complete by-product of our environment; however it is time we start realising that we are absolutely capable of corrupting ourselves without any assistance. In the way that charity begins at home, we cannot project the corruption of our children elsewhere, corruption begins at the family level.