Boarding Tales ~ Episode XV (Bosola’s Confessions)

blackgirl

‘‘This whole drama needs to stop young lady.’’ Mr Adisa said giving me a stern look

‘‘Sir, I think we need to review the punishment in light of Bosola’s confession.’’ He added addressing the principal.

‘‘Adisa, wait a minute. That won’t be necessary, besides I think she was about to tell us something.’’

‘‘Young lady, you said you have something to say.’’

‘‘Yes sir, I do.’’

‘‘Sir, I don’t think you should still listen to this girl anymore. Don’t forget you still have to be in Ibadan today. I really don’t know what game she is playing but we don’t have time for this theatrics.’’

‘‘Mr Adisa, why don’t you let her talk? I am very interested in whatever she has to say.’’ Mom said

‘‘Nneoma, leave it alone. Whatever it is she can tell us on the way home.’’ Dad replied

The principal cleared his throat noisily.

‘‘Bosola Adesegun, I have to be in Ibadan like Adisa said. We will talk about whatever you want to say when you get back from suspension.’’

‘‘I won’t be coming back to this school sir.’’

‘‘Oh yes you will my dear daughter. You are definitely coming back.’’ Dad replied.

Yewande and her Mom had remained silent all through. The principal stood up to leave and my parents and Yewande’s mom shook his hands.

******

I had vowed never to talk to Yewande again but for some reason I felt like there were words to be exchanged.

I walked to her Mom’s car and as though she sensed I was coming came out of the car and leaned against it.

‘‘So what were you planning to say?’’ She asked

‘‘I was ready to talk about what this school really is. I wanted to tell the principal about how Mr Adisa sleeps with girls and how he encourages students dating.’’

‘‘And what did you think that would achieve?’’

‘‘I don’t know but I just get annoyed anytime he mentions how decent his school is.’’

Yewande laughed holding her sides.

‘‘And then what happens when he knows? He would close the school? He would sack Mr Adisa? You are so funny.’’

‘‘You think he won’t do that?’’

‘‘Bosola stop fighting battles you are bound to lose, just go on your suspension and come back to do Iye’s work.’’

‘‘Yewande, I am sorry I came to talk to you.’’ I said walking away. I blinked back the tears that blurred my vision telling myself over and over again how stupid I was to have changed my mind about talking to Yewande.

*****

We travelled in silence for about an hour before I summoned the courage to speak.

‘‘Dad, Mom, won’t you ask me what happened, won’t you ask me what I wanted to say in the principal’s office?’’

‘‘Bosola, what do you have to say. I said what do you have to say? You can still talk because I have not sunk my teeth into your flesh, biting until I can taste blood. The reason you are talking is because I haven’t picked a toilet broom to whip you until the evil spirits in …..’’

‘‘Mom, he had sex with me when I was nine years old.’’ I shouted interrupting her.

I watched her mouth open and blocked my ears at her shrilling screams of “who” who is the animal”, the car swerved dangerously as dad stopped the car.

‘‘What did you just say?’’ Dad said, his face a painful mask

I still don’t know what possessed me to talk the way I did, perhaps it was Mom’s self righteousness or the need to spill everything out that kept plaguing me.

‘‘Uncle Demola slept with me when I was nine.’’

‘‘Oh Jesus. Why did Demola do this to me ehn? How did I offend him?’’ Mom wailed placing her head in her laps.

‘‘Bosola, you said Demola raped you at nine. The same Demola, my brother’s son?’’ I nodded although it was more of a statement than a question.

He placed his head on the wheel. I watched them both. Mom sobbing into her laps, Dad with his head on the wheel. I didn’t feel any pity for them. There was more.

‘‘He didn’t just stop after that. It continued until the time Dad brought me here to boarding school.’’ With each word that I said Mom’s sobs became louder.

‘‘Bosola,’’ Dad said raising his head from the wheel. ‘‘I want you to tell me everything Demola ever did to you and I want you to also tell us what you wanted to tell the principal in there.’’

***

I was one of those little girls that everyone loved to carry and call the wife of their son, brother and sometimes themselves.

Uncle Demo loved me specially; He would always give me a huge portion of the meat Mom gave him for dinner.  Everyone called me his baby. He would help with my assignments, and even help with my household chores. I would stay in his room whenever Mom and Dad were out of the house.

I was Eight years old when he would play Shina Peters’ records and teach me some of the songs. He would read out stories from Hints and Better Lover magazines. He would ask if I understood what was happening in the stories and pinch my budding breasts. I would laugh at this. It was both painful and enjoyable being pinched like that. Other times he would tell me to put my hands in his trousers and help him rub his “kokoro”. That was what he called it then.

The first time I rubbed it for him, I got afraid when it began to swell and asked if it pained him or if it would burst like a boil. He had thrown back his head and laughed for a few minutes. When he was done laughing, he nodded his eyes brimming with tears brought on by the laughter.

‘‘Bosola, it could burst and that’s why you have to help me. Just allow me to lie on you.’’ I was afraid and allowed him to lie on me. He made me promise not to tell anyone as it would make them panic. ‘‘They would think I am about to die.’’ He said.

We continued like that for a while. I would remove my clothes and he would lie on me, he would breathe heavily and I would mumble sorry afraid he was suffering from an illness and could die.

I never told anyone what Uncle Demo and I were doing, not when we finally had sex and not even when I was old enough to know the meaning of what we did. I had come to enjoy it and  looked forward to it.

*****

Mom continued to sob as I spoke but Dad kept looking at me, his face expressionless. His face betrayed nothing not even when I told him how Demo had given me birth control pills the day I told him I have started seeing my monthly flow.

I switched to talking about the school. I told them about Toluse, Mr Adisa and Iye. I described a little of the things that went on in the school. I used the expression Sodom and Gomorrah. It was only at that word that Dad’s eye twitched and his face fell as if he wanted to cry. The car became quiet once again as soon as I finished speaking. The silence was broken by Mom after several minutes.

‘‘Bosola, you would be going to church with me as soon as we get back to Lagos. You have to be delivered.’’

‘‘She won’t be going for any deliverance.’’

‘‘Fola why would you say that? This girl is being attacked by the evil one, she needs to be delivered.’’

‘‘Shut up Nneoma’’. Dad screamed. ‘‘Shut up this minute.’’

‘‘The issue here has nothing to do with evil spirits or good ones. The person who needs deliverance here is Demola and I am going to ensure he gets delivered to prison.’’

‘‘I remember I was against him living with us, but if I had said no then, your people would have said your Igbo wife is hostile.’’

‘‘Woman, that’s irrelevant right now. We have to find a way to get out of this situation. First we need to get to the town, spend the night there and leave for Lagos tomorrow morning. I will deal with Demola when we get home.’’

‘‘As for that school and Mr Adisa, They would hear from me. I mean what kind of a school puts a young man in charge of the female hostel?’’

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