ArewaDiaries – How I Found Myself a Lesbian: The names used throughout this piece are random. Real names are hidden on request. If the names used happen to relate to any personal experience you know or heard of, know it is a total coincidence.
My name is Tata Bala, I live in Kaduna State Nigeria, and the only child to Mr and Mrs Bala. I can’t say how and when I started digging this ditch that almost became the death of me, I can only tell you that while at it, I didn’t make the smart choice of staying outside it while I dug. I remember my first day in particular school in Kaduna state. Vividly, I remember how very innocent I was back then. Innocent, but very curious. My insatiable curiosity back then and even as a child was the glariest feature I possessed, and more often than not, it was the one thing that always got me in trouble.
I was always exploring and trying new things which were just unbelievable food combinations during the first few weeks I was there – I won’t stop snooping around. Whenever I saw something fishy that ticked my 6th sense of curiosity, I was sure to follow and find out whether it was something I could try or not.
It didn’t take me long to learn about the vicious activities going on in the hostels and sometimes even outside; the secret intake of alcoholic drinks by the seniors, the sneaking out of the school through the fence by both senior and junior girls to attend parties and get laid) outside the school, and of course lesbian activities.
I won’t drink or sneak out of the school because even in my childish brain I knew my parents would skin me alive if they ever find out. Before the end of my first term in the school, I was adopted by one of the many seniors that wanted me as ‘school daughter’ – the beautiful senior Kareemah. Senior Kareemah exercised her seniority to get everything done for me; she made my mates and even my seniors who were at that time her juniors washed my dirty uniforms, do my portion, she even bathed me – to cut the long story short – I enjoyed my js1 days because my school mummy spoilt me rotten.
On resuming the 2nd term in js1, senior Kareemah moved me into her corner; she’d cover the down bunk with a blanket draping from the up bunk to make it impossible for eyes outside the corner to see what was going on inside and touch me all over and ask me to do to her everything she did to me – I will spare you the details. I can’t say I felt anything other than discomfort when she did that but I didn’t object to it, I obeyed.
Some nights she will keep me up late and I’ll wake up the next morning feeling all sore and tired, that was taken care of since she could get someone to do my portion and I didn’t even have to bathe myself. I had all the time to study since everything else was taken care of by my school mum so I always went back home with colourful results and no one suspected anything at home.
By the time I wrote my JSSCE exams, I was saying goodbye to school mum number 3 and was fully aware of what the touching and (mute) was – I felt every single one of the act. By the time I started ss1 I was already bored of being chased and I started chasing my own ‘daughter’ and ‘darling’. Yes, we courted girls like us the way boys court girls; we buy gifts, we do all the sweet-talking and fall in love (or so we thought). Anyway, I got so addicted to lesbianism by the time I got into ss2 and I couldn’t go more than 2 days without getting down.
During the holidays I’ll meet up with my ‘darling’ in her home or mine and indulge the urge behind closed doors and the circle continued; when that becomes impossible id just hide in my room and touch myself – it worsened by the day. This continued even after girls’ college but it took a different turn against me. I went from being happy about my escapades to just being desperate; even after getting down I felt so unsatisfied and unhappy, I found myself growing increasingly miserable by the day.
My darling from secondary school got married during our third year in the university and so my frustration grew – don’t get me wrong, the marriage didn’t stop us from continuing our little dirty secrete affair – I was frustrated because I was sharing her with her husband now. As time went by I grew more frustrated, almost depressed; I’d cry when Juju (my darling)’s husband was around and so we couldn’t meet and I needed me some, I’d cry after doing myself and I don’t feel satisfied, sometimes I’d just cry because of nothing. My parents started suspecting I was having problems with my academics and they started asking questions but I always answered in the affirmative.
My mom thought I was having boyfriend problems in school and decided to have a mother-daughter discussion about boys and relationships – a little too late – but I listened with deaf ears of course because boys were far from the reason behind my frustration. I don’t know how it happened but juju later realized that what we were doing was wrong in the sight of God and man and decided to break up with me and advised me to turn a new leaf too, but oh how deep I was in my bubble of immorality, I couldn’t understand let alone accept what she was suggesting – I was lost. After that incidence with juju, I became very aggressive; I snapped at every little thing, my grades dropped like no man’s business and was soon withdrawn in my final year in the university.
The day I returned home was the darkest for my parents, it was the first day I ever saw my father’s tears (but not the last). To say that they were disappointed in me would be like saying they ordered a vanilla cake and were served chocolate cake – they were shattered. Anyway, I only felt the impact of their confusion for a little while, I had needs to satisfy. I waited impatiently for night to fall so I could get down to business while my mother waited patiently for night to fall so she could talk to me and find out what was disorienting me so.
That very night as God will have it I forgot to lock my door before getting to ‘it’ and so my mum walked in on me, naked, right in the middle of it; I didn’t even hear her come in, it was the loud mournful scream she let out that brought me back into my senses – my father who was close by rushed in to see what the problem was and I swear my whole world came crashing that very moment. My mum who already had a high BP passed out and had to be rushed to the hospital, my father won’t even look at me. I wished the ground would just open and swallow me. What have I done?
A week passed without a word from my father who had spoken to juju (my closest friend to them) and she didn’t hide anything from him. My mother had clearly stated that she doesn’t want to see me near her hospital bed. Anyway, my father confided in his friend who in turn advised my parents to send me to a professional to seek psychological help; a shrink. One morning, my father came to tell me to tie a straight wrapper and a t-shirt and also to pack another set like that and my toiletries because I was travelling, I obeyed.
The men who had come to get me were all seated in the parlour, each wearing a maka-wuya over his shoulders, and holding long prayer beads. “muje ko?” they all chorused as they stood up. I turned to look at my father, to at least tell him I was sorry and to seek for his forgiveness but he had his back against me and so I just left.
I journeyed with those men to Katsina state where I thought I was going to get help from a professional psychologist, little did I know I was going to a local/traditional correction home ‘Gidan Mari’ to get that much-needed help. Life at Gidan Mari was very difficult but corrective (I will spare you the details), I didn’t leave there until I was able to recite the complete Qur’an and no aorta of lesbianism was left in my heart – I suffered in the home, but it was worth it.
I returned to my parents who had forgiven me even before they decided to send me to Gidan Mari, I still asked for their forgiveness nonetheless. Now lesbianism is very addictive and like every other addictive, can push one to do the most despicable things just to satisfy that evil urge.