Young girl holding a child. Image: UNICEF Australia |
Zireme
Azimba remembered the first time she came to Yola. She was brought to the city
from Galabje, her small village in Toungo, Adamawa State.
Before then, she had never imagined leaving the routine of her home; waking up
at dawn, sweeping the compound, cooking, farming, cooking again, and on
weekends, laundry at the small stream. Her Uncle Golfa, whose wife – Daufe –
had just put to bed, came to take her from her parents to help with house
chores.
When she got
into Yola, she was surprised at how ‘developed’ it was. She had never seen
tarred roads before and definitely had not seen such tall buildings. Quite
frankly, that was the first time she had been in a car. Yes, she was nine years
old but no one in her village had a car. She hid her excitement though. She
didn’t want to disgrace her mother.
As she
entered her Uncle’s house, she held her nylon bag close to her breasts: mounds
that were just starting to show signs of womanhood. She was doe-eyed as she
stared at her new house. The house was a two-room apartment in a very crowded
neighborhood. She was shown where to keep her belongings and immediately put to
work.
Her uncle
worked in a bakery and had to be out of the house as early as 5am. She had to
be up at 4am every day. While his meal was cooking, she would take his bath
water to the bathroom and iron his clothes: with an electric iron if there was
‘light’ and a charcoal iron if there wasn’t. Then she would serve him his meal at
about 4:45am. As soon as he was done, she would gather his plates and the ones
from the night before to wash. When she had placed them outside, she would go
in to carry baby Desmond and see if he needed a change of diaper or something
else. After that, she would do the dishes, sweep the house and then wake her
Aunt Daufe from her snore-fest. She would then wash Desmond’s and
some of her Aunt’s pee-and-poo-stained clothes. After this, she would be sent to the
market to get food stuff for dinner or to grind grains. Since her uncle worked
in a bakery, he usually brought dough home in the afternoon for his wife to
fry. This allowed him to make some extra money on the side. As soon as Aunt
Daufe taught Zireme how to fry the dough, she stopped doing even that. Zireme
would fry it until about 6pm, allow it to cool for about 30 minutes, package it,
and then start cooking dinner. The only free time she had was between 8pm and
10pm when she was allowed to watch television. The routine would begin again
the next day.
This
continued until her Aunt took in again. As soon as Aunt Daufe realized she was
pregnant, she stopped even holding Desmond. Zireme just clocked 10 when her
aunt took in again. She became mini-mummy to Desmond. Her aunt only held
Desmond when she needed to feed him. As soon as she was done, she would quickly
hand him over to Zireme.
While
Zireme was doing all the work, her aunt would watch Telenovelas, Indian
and Korean series, Africa Magic, and the like. She only went out when there was
no power supply. As soon as the power was gone, Aunt Daufe would bathe and head to a friend’s house to gossip about Catalina and Consuelo. She would
only rush home when she felt her husband was close to returning: and only to
make sure that Zireme had prepared dinner.
By the
time Zireme clocked 15, Aunt Daufe had given birth to three more children. The
small house where they stayed was cramped with people, clothes, furniture, and
other household materials. The older kids had to sleep in the living room with
Zireme while the younger ones slept in the bedroom with their parents.
Soon,
Zireme noticed a pattern. There were days when her uncle and aunt would ensure
all the kids slept in the living room. Those days were usually accompanied by
sounds of a creaking bed and grunts that were unmistakably her uncle’s. This
awakened something warm in Zireme that she could not explain. It always made
her feel weird but she learned to pretend she didn’t hear it, even though the
wetness in her pants betrayed her.
In the
six years since she was with her uncle, she went home to Galabje thrice.
The first time was filled with ecstasy and excitement because she had not seen
her friends and family for months. The first day was her happiest but that was
it. She soon began to resent the ‘local’ behavior of her friends and the
pittance called food which her parents ate. Worst of all, there was no TV! She had no inclination of what was happening with
Ishika in her favorite Indian series. By her third day, she was all but fed up!
She needed to go back to the city. The second time she went home, she kept
sulking and frowning, hating her farm work and the poverty of her home so much
that she nearly exploded. The last time she went home, three years ago, she told her mother that it was expensive coming home and that she would not come home again for a long time. Her mother understood: she
always understood. She had learned that poor people had no choices so she
nodded her head and patted Zireme. As she turned away, Zireme saw the look of
absolute pain in her mother’s eyes and though she would have felt a twinge of
guilt three years before, she didn’t feel anything. Her village is just too
‘local’ for her.
When
Zireme clocked 15, her aunt started looking at her funny. She seemed to really
notice her. And every time she really looked at her, Zireme felt exposed: raw,
naked, and completely vulnerable. It didn’t come as a surprise when her uncle
called her to have the talk.
‘Zireme,
you are now a woman. You cannot continue to stay here. I have spoken to your
father and he has given me the permission to find you a husband.’ Zireme stared at the floor with an unreadable
expression on her face but a leap of joy in her heart! She was so happy that
she would finally get her own home. She didn’t hear anything else
her uncle said. She was so lost in her happiness and the life she was going to
be living that she just blanked out his long-winded speech. When her uncle dismissed
her, she went outside and finally smiled!
She was
going to be married! She would have her own house and do as she liked! She
hoped the man her uncle chose for her had a house as big as her uncle’s, a big
generator, and an even bigger TV! She would bring a maid who would do all her
house chores so she could finally rest. She would finally enjoy all the series
and Nigerian movies that TV had to offer. She was not bothered that she had
never gone to school. She couldn't care less that she should be a child and not a
bride. She was happy and content! And she was definitely not like her neighbor
– Kamara – who was always frowning, above 25 and unmarried, and never
watched TV because of her work. That night, she slept and dreamed of her new
life. In a few months, she would be living in total bliss. Life was good!
***
Our society allows child abuse in the name of
housework and training a girl-child. We need to allow children be children. We
need to allow children explore the possibilities of life. Some of these
possibilities come from going to school. We need to stop all forms of
#ChildAbuse and #ChildMarriage in our African societies. And it all begins with
YOU!
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