The Evils That Men Do
Yetunde loves listening to various programs on radio and on the internet. She learns a lot from such acts right from the time she was at the secondary school. Radio stations are established to inform, educate and entertain the masses in various ways.
'' If I have the mean in the nearness further, I hope to have a radio station of my own where meaningful programs shall be broadcast to enlighten the society on some issues''
-The pretty girl confessed openly to one of her classmates after evaluating one of the presented radio programs together one day. Yetunde nursed the ambition of owning a private radio station possibly at Ikole Ekiti.
As a result, she became an ardent fan to various radio stations and presenters. She often phone-in and make comments to some of the radio stations during live broadcast when allowed.
The rate at which FM Radio stations are springing up was getting alarming. This was made possible simply because obtaining the license or approval to operate have been made open to the public unlike in the pass that owning a radio station was the sole responsibility of the government.
Yetunde during the Easter Break was at home with the family of her Mother's junior sister at Agbowo. It was evening time. There was darkness everywhere because the electricity power supply at the area had faulty. Only few houses were spared. The hassles of the epletic power supply from NEPA was getting more annoying. To the extent that a lot of houses are now installing solar as a better alternative.
The house where Yetunde lives was with exemption anyway, the residence enjoyed light as much as possible. The house was blessed with a giant generator like the type that big factories used for production and a special solar that powered all the building inside the estate. When you have your accommodation with the rich man, you will not suffer, instead you will be highly privileged to enjoy some amenities on the platter of gold.
Other houses may be having problem of getting light at night, the house where Yetunde stays was totally exempted. Therefore, they have escaped the hassles from NEPA! An organization that people gave a different name to due to their poor performance in supplying electricity as expected. They refer to them as Never Expect Power Always instead of National Electric Power Authority!
Meanwhile, Yetunde stood at the frontage of their apartment to relax herself. She had just finished cooking the evening meal for the family. Others were inside the sitting room feeding and dinning. She decided to eat her food later.
While relaxing, she suddenly remember it was Tuesday, the popular radio program she loved most was about time. She rushed in to pick her Mp radio set and quickly turn-in to the FM Station for the broadcast.
The program have just started. It is known as ''Confession Time for Lovers '' – a popular radio program that was the delight of both the young and the old. Couple too usually stickled to the radio at that period in the evening for almost three hours.
Nearly everyone at that time loved the highly educative, informative and entertaining program. It was the peoples program from the people's radio station. The presented and producer of ''Confession Time'' was super and highly gifted! The radio station too was the most listened to local radio stations according to recent research findings.
The episode for the day was about the bitter experience of a lady who got herself caught in the net of two wicked men in the campus hostel. The segment was tagged: ''The Evil That Men Did On Sunday '' as announced by the radio presenter…Happy listening….!It confession Time Again…!
Yetunde got glued to her radio set with keen interest in the revelation that was about to be revealed until it lasted.
So the pathetic story began…
'' Here is my confession: '' They Raped Me On A Sunday Morning ''….
'' In fact I could not remember closing my eyes for a deep or sound sleep throughout the night of the incident. Even, for days if not weeks, I found it extremely difficult to sleep. I suffered a lot alone in silence. I was greatly troubled until I made up my mind to voice out if there could be a help for me. My world was almost destroyed in the dark of life, I needed a rescue fast.
Was just picturing the scene again and again, with tears rolling down my cheeks? By what they did to me unexpectedly, they murdered my sleep for life. Sleep eluded me like the proverbial Okro soup. I continued to turn and toss on one side iron bed to blacken out the picture of the terrible scene as experienced by me on that black Sunday. But no way, I could not just delete the ugly scene from my memory. I was simply restless and useless to myself.
As if that was not enough, my agony was further compounded when I thought of how slandered-bodied my joy was. How I wished it was a dream or fable, therefore I waited endlessly up till now for someone to come in, wake me up and inform me it was a mere dream and not real. But such a timely messenger refused to surface. What a great pity. I found myself in the pit of life without a pity or sympathy! What a heavy burden like a cross that the incident made me to carry or bear!
By now, I wished or even though the world should come to an end or fall on me to cover my shame. But alas, wishes are not horses, so the beggars failed to rise. I felt like an outcast in my confusion. They have ruined me completely. I almost cried my heart out. I was soaked with tears. From where do I start again?
I went on the memory lane and traced my predicament back to the genesis. No smoke without fire! I mean the beginning of the catastrophe that brought an indelible mark into my life. Every life have a story. This is my story, this is my life.
It all started when with an admission offered to a higher institution to read Geography and Environmental Management. My joy knew no bound when I got the long awaited admission letter and was offered admission to read the very course I applied for at the university.
In no small time, I started in earnest, preparing for school. My lovely and beloved parents on their part did not have any headache in providing all my needs in essence. They proofed their worth and I was glad to have them as parents. They were more than ready to meet all the demands of my timely admission. They did not let me down for a moment. I prayed to God spared their lives to eat the fruits of the labor. May their investments on my education not become futile?
Being in my late teens and from a Christian background family, my mother nights giving me heart to heart lectures on sex education and Christian compartments. Also the negative effects of untimely pregnancy of abortion.
Far from it, not as if I was a wayward child, but my sweet mother believed a stitch in time saves nine. Prevention is far better than care. Don't mind or blame her at all, as the first born of my beloved parents and automatically the first ever to go to the higher institution, the anxiety was so great for my parents and my very self too.
In fact, my junior ones could not wait for the resumption day when they will escort me to school in my father's Peugeot 505 Executive saloon car.
No joy is too little to hide. No cover cloth is large enough to cover it as well. I went about telling friends and my colleagues around who thought were not as lucky as I was, about my admission and obviously, they really envied me.
As I went about on my visitation rampage, I was equally busy noting the count-down to the memorable date.
I had earlier gotten a private accommodation in the school environment as my school authority failed to have the provisions for accommodation for the new students on campus.
My good parents instead took time to secure for me a decent apartment not far from the campus; but my blurt father refused to make payments for the rent as demanded until the caretaker assured him of an adequate and reliable security. A CTV camera was also installed within the premises of the mini-hostel.
Luckily, some female staylites also stayed in the premises with me. They place was lively and accommodating. It was like a home away from home for me.
The well-furnished hostel was privately owned by a wealthy billionaire who was a notable politician and former Senator. There were two other storey buildings within the estate accommodating both female and male students of the university like me.
The other staylites living in the mini hostel were not all around as the school just resumed for the new session for them and the lectures have not started in earnest.
For them, the real lecture did not normally start until two weeks after the officially announced date of resumption. Also, it takes some period allowed foe the registration and orientation for the new students by the university authority.
But for me; a fresher, the anxiety was there, and even if someone should inform me to join the game of Africanized resumption dates, I would decline outright as I was very eager to be in school at that period.
Therefore, with the delayed resumption and my own eagerness to be in school, I was left alone in the female hostel at that period crushing it all alone. However, the few ladies that had arrived like me were usually available in the day time and went out by night to sleep with their bosom friends in other hostels around or outside the campus.
The female hostel was a 3-storey building and in the whole of the female hostel, we were about three that were sleeping there at the time. I was the only one available in my floor [2nd floor] and the rest other ladies in the 1st floor. The ground floor was completely empty as at that time. I had already spent a week in the hostel trying to adjust myself and adapt to the new life in a new environment as required.
Unknowingly, the devil struck unexpectedly! Life without an adequate guide is a miserable life. The attack done to female members in our society is on the increase and should be curb fast.
Yes, it was on a Sunday morning, exactly 7a.m when I was planning how I will go to church to serve my creator. Am not used to staying behind on Sundays without attending the service. Sunday is a day to be remember to service God and have some rest. A good worshiper would always reflect what the Holy Bible says concerning Sunday: '' Remember the Sabbath day to keep it Holy!''
No one is wiser to have the understanding of a bad day ahead of time. If a driver knew the day of accident, he will definitely not ply the road on that day.
Likewise, I never had the premonition for what happened on that fateful Sunday really. In own case, I was just planning to get out of bed to prepare for the Sunday Service at one of the branches of our church in town not far from the campus. I equally planned to have some discussions with the Pastor-in-Charge on how a unit of the branch can be planted on the university campus.
Surprisingly, I heard a gentle knock on my door. Quiet unusual. I wondered who it was, so in the early morning. I stood up without wasting time and opened the metal door and there facing me were two heavily built men.
As culture demands, I greeted them and they equally responded well like gentlemen. I never suspected anything bad from them. They asked for a lady by name Bola Owoade. Being a new person in the hostel, I directed them to the other ladies at the first floor.
But about five minutes later, they came back knocking on my door and when I opened the door gently, they asked for a ball-point biro and a sheet of paper to drop a note for the said Sade whom they claimed lived on the second floor with me but in one room.
As I turned round to grant their tricky request and before I knew it, they had followed me inside the room and pounced on me like a mad and hungry lion on its prey.
Without wasting time, they quickly went for my night gown and tore it pushed me to the bed forcefully. There on the single size bed, the two men incapacitated me and raped me in turn to their satisfaction. What a hell on earth?
They even went away with two pairs of my shoes and some of my expensive garments. Though I shouted for help, no one came to my rescue until the deal lasted. It was terrible. So I could be all that lonely.
Can you imagine, the caretaker that was assumed by my parents to be a guide or protector was nowhere to be located or found.
However, a lady later came and helped me to a private hospital nearby where I was given a first-class treatment. My wounds were stitched and a D&C was performed on me so as to prevent an unwanted pregnancy from the rape experience by the strangers.
For days, I was not able to eat and each time I managed to eat a little, I vomited. The hell have let loose on me. They have finished my life!
The caretaker later came and settle the hospital bill. He persuaded me not to go home and tell my parents. Instead, I should keep it within myself like a sealed secret forever! Indeed, I do not have the boldness or the courage too to go home and inform my parents, What is the way out for me….The lady concluded her Confession on radio that day, when listeners were implored to phone-in and advised.
''No…! No..! No..! '' Yetunde shouted in empathy. ''Justice must be done! It is unfair''
She clamor for action and support for the lady.
Unfortunately, all attempts to get across on phone proofed abortive because there were lot of reactions from the audience on that day unlike before.