This story, written with a broken heart, is dedicated
to the memory of Vera Uwaila Omozuwa, a 22-year-old microbiology student
reported to have been gang-raped and murdered on May 27 in a Church in Benin,
Nigeria. May her gentle soul rest in peace.
1
I have helped many
patients recover, but Bimpe’s case was different. From the moment she walked
in, I feared my expertise as a rape victim therapist may not be enough. She wore
a long red skirt with a slit that revealed her left thigh. There, her
smooth-looking, chocolate-coloured skin shone, a clear sign she spent a lot on
skincare. Her artificial eyelashes hung low and her full lips moved
seductively as she spoke.
Wait, don’t judge
me too fast. I’m a woman who has spent half her life on this job for the joy of
seeing men caught with their pants down and their butts thrown in prison. I had
to admit though, Bimpe’s rapist had taste. But this silly notion was all before I
heard her story.
Bimpe had not
always been like this. Once, before the horror that changed her life, she was a
naïve girl who knew less about make-up or how to trap men in her
skirt.
You see, when
Bimpe was only thirteen, her breasts had filled out like a grown woman. Her
hips were more than just the perfect size with a small waist that made them every man’s
dream, and then her skin, chocolate-coloured and spotless. Her mum realized
early, she needed to teach her daughter the art of being a woman in a man’s
world.
So, Bimpe knew
what to say and just how to wriggle out of an admirer’s net very early. Once, in
her school uniform and on a mission to pay her fees in the bank, the manager
asked for her to be brought to his office. What was a matter of minutes, seemed
like hours of persuasion in which the burly man loosened his tie and said some
of the sweetest words Bimpe had ever heard from an admirer.
It wasn’t like the
manager was an old man. He was clean-shaven and looked fit, somewhere between
forty and forty-five. But in her eyes, he was an old man and she was just a
little girl. At age fifteen, all she thought about was rounding off secondary
school and studying medicine in uni.
But here she was,
seated before a man who now promised her the world.
‘I’d open an
account for you and you can withdraw ten thousand naira every month,’ he said.
Ten thousand naira
was huge money back then. Bimpe resisted the urge to tell him her
parents gave her everything she needed. And what would she have to do to earn
all that? But she already knew the answer. It was right there on her chest: her
extraordinarily large breasts, her oval face with perfect features, and hips
even her long skirt failed to hide.
When she moved
toward the door with an apology on her lips, the man flashed forward and
grabbed her arms. ‘Promise you will think about it.’
‘I will,’ she
lied.
Just before she
finished secondary school, her principal, Mr Ogbonna, called her into his
office and asked if she was studying hard for her final exams and if she needed
any help.
Bimpe’s mouth fell
open. Everyone knew the principal hardly paid attention to students in this
manner. He was the most feared person in the school.
‘Ehm…no sir. Thank
you, sir.’ Bimpe scratched her head.
‘But you know if
you need help you can come to me, right?’
‘Yessir.’
She stood up.
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘You don’t need to
worry about passing exams…’ Mr Ogbonna pushed back his chair and drew close.
Now his hand was on her shoulder.
Bimpe’s eyes
widened. Not in her wildest dreams had she pictured this scenario. An alarm
went off in her head.
The principal’s
hand slide to her breast and tried to cup it when Bimpe jumped back and her
chair fell backwards, its clatter making her leap. With shaky hands, she opened
the door and dashed out of the office.
No one else would
believe her, so she only told her best friend, Hajara. ‘I wish your mum was
here,’ Hajara had said.
A year ago,
Bimpe’s mum had died from cancer and her father was already planning to bring
in a new wife. There was no one in the world Bimpe could confide in who
understood her like Hajara.
‘What are you
going to do about it?’ she asked.
Bimpe sighed.
‘Nothing, I guess. Who would I report to, the Vice Principal?’
‘What about Miss
Nana, the English teacher? She always says we can come to her for advice.’
‘And what can she
do, Hajara? She’s only a teacher.’
That was how the
matter died. Mr Ogbonna stood before the school assembly days after and spoke
his eyes straight ahead and never looking in Bimpe’s direction. It was as if
nothing ever happened.
As the only girl,
Bimpe was in charge of the house even though she was the fourth out of five
children. Her father, a businessman, was always going on business trips and
their home was always filled with relatives seeking for school admission or
employment in Abuja. Once, Uncle Richard who was trying to get a federal
government job in the city asked Bimpe to bring him a bottle of coke from the
main house’s refrigerator. When she entered the boys’ quarters, he reached out
and touched her breast. Bimpe froze, and then shook her finger in his face,
‘don’t you try that again,’ until fear leapt into his eyes.
She never told
anyone. Not even Hajara, her best friend.
Their house was in
the outskirts of the city, and most times, Bimpe went to the market on a
commercial motorcycle. She used to ask Uncle Richard to take her in what used
to be her mother’s car but stopped since his misbehaviour. Not far from her
home was Albert’s house, the boy who had asked her to be his girlfriend since
junior secondary school. Recently, he had stopped talking to her altogether,
even when she greeted him.
The turning point
in Bimpe’s life came not long after she got admission into the university. She
had just finished shopping in the market and was trying to get a motorcycle
when rain began to pour. Just then, a car drew up beside her and Bimpe sighed
when she saw Albert behind the wheel. Her mum had once warned her never to accept a
ride from a stranger, no matter the situation. Albert was no stranger.
‘Hurry! Enter!’ he
yelled over the noise of rain. ‘Don’t worry. Drop everything here.’ He grabbed
one of the bags filled with groceries and dumped it in the back seat.
They zoomed off
and Bimpe wrapped her arms around herself, aware of how her gown clung to her
body, especially her chest. She felt almost naked here, alone with Albert. The
AC hummed and the wiper swished back and forth noisily as Albert bent forward
to see clearly.
‘Thanks,’ she
said.
‘You’re welcome.’
He didn’t even glance at Bimpe. ‘I hear you’ve gotten admission.’
‘Wow, yes. How did
you know? News travels fast here O.’
‘You’re now a big
gel.’ Albert glanced at her. ‘Soon you will have all the guys there all over
you.’
Bimpe shifted in
her seat and looked straight ahead.
‘I wish you will
be my gel.’
She dropped her
hands on her laps and sighed.
‘Won’t you say
something? Don’t you think this is a sign from God? I mean…bringing us together
like this before you leave?’
‘I’m not ready for
a relationship, Albert. I–’
‘You’re too
young?’ He scoffed. ‘You won’t say that when you’re there…where you can do
whatever you want.’
Albert continued
talking and then he said it, those two words Bimpe had heard all her life.
‘Will you remain mummy’s gel all your life?’
‘Don’t call me
that!’ She could feel the tears in her eyes.
‘I’m sorry, I–’
‘If it’s because
you gave me a lift, just drop me here.’ Bimpe pointed. She was already a
walking distance away from home.
‘No, no, please…I
didn’t mean to.’
They were now
close to his house. ‘When are you leaving?’ he asked.
‘Soon.’
‘My parents are
not home and I’ll really appreciate it if you pay me a visit,’ he said.
‘I can’t.’
‘Okay.’
There was
something in his voice, a mixture of sadness and defeat that made Bimpe
reconsider. ‘The rain has almost stopped,’ she touched her silky gown, ‘and my
clothes are dry. I will come in now, briefly.’
‘Are you serious?’
The look in his eyes was priceless.
Bimpe laughed.
‘Yes, but only on one condition. You’ll teach me how to drive.’
‘Deal.’ He smiled
and suddenly Bimpe realized how handsome he was. She shivered. Maybe it wasn’t
a good idea after all. It was still drizzling.
The gate man opened
up and they drove into Albert’s compound. Albert came round and opened her door
with a little bow. Bimpe laughed.
Inside, he went
straight to the CD player and Frank Edwards’s song filled the living room.
‘I didn’t know you
listened to Frank Edwards,’ Bimpe said.
He smiled and
disappeared into the kitchen. ‘I’m coming.’ Soon he was back with two steaming
mugs. ‘Coffee or tea?’
‘Tea, please.’
Bimpe watched as he made hers. ‘Thanks.’ She accepted the mug and sipped. ‘I
really needed this.’
‘Play scrabble?’
He dropped a board on the centre table.
‘You joking?’ she
made a face at him, ‘I love it.’
‘Great!’
‘But…’ she took a
final sip, ‘I have to go now. Next time, maybe?’
‘Ha! So there’ll
be a next time?’ He punched the air. ‘Yes!’ and Bimpe laughed uncontrollably as
she walked toward the door.
2
Music poured out
from the main house when Bimpe reached home. Her younger brothers who liked
music that much were in boarding school and she knew their last born was
certainly not the one. Uncle Richard was sprawled on her dad’s favorite couch
when she walked in. He pretended not to notice her and she went straight to her
room.
Bimpe had just
removed her gown and was humming Frank Edwards’s Super Star when her door flew
open. She screamed, grabbed her gown from the bed and covered herself up. ‘How
dare–’
‘Ashawo! You think
I did not see you enter that boy’s house.’ Uncle Richard stood by the door, his
eyes all over her body as he spoke. Suddenly he was across the room and shoved
her toward the bed until she fell. ‘Today, I will show you who is oga here.’
Uncle Richard
pulled down his shorts in one swift motion, stepped over it and longed for
Bimpe. She rolled on the bed and fell on the other side, but he was too fast,
as if he had rehearsed this for a long time. He jumped on the bed, bounced and
landed next to her with both feet. Then he held her by the shoulders and pushed
her, face down.
Bimpe felt blood
rush up her head when it came in contact with the floor. Uncle Richard yanked
her head back and tore at her panties. She screamed as pain like she had never
known shot up her anus, and then nothing else mattered.
3
‘Nothing else
mattered since,’ Bimpe said as tears coursed down her cheeks.
My voice trembled
as I asked her to continue.
‘He defiled me,
both front and back.’ She bit her lower lip. ‘I didn’t plan it, but every man
who came after me for my body died afterwards.’
‘Wait, wait…I
don’t get it.’ I waved a hand and shook my head from side to side. ‘You–’
‘Yes…I killed
them. Every…single…one of them.’
I sighed and sat
back. What had I gotten myself into?
4
Bimpe avoided
Albert until she left for uni. Then it happened: she fell for Tayo, one of the
most popular boys in school, in her second year.
Tayo hovered over
almost everyone in uni and girls buzzed around him like bees. He was not in
Bimpe’s faculty but coming all the way from the Arts, he was always around,
stuck between girls with a couple of his basketball cronies tagging along.
It was in exactly
one of such scenarios that their eyes locked. Just before Bimpe turned a
corner, she saw him squeeze out of his circle and knew he was coming after her.
She had heard about him, learned he was the school’s most valuable basketball
player and watched him from a distance, but they had never actually met. So
far, she had avoided having any close relationship with men.
‘Hey, baby, seems
like you’re running, abi?’
Those words made
Bimpe turn and look him in the eye. ‘Running? Says who?’
He grinned,
showing spotless white teeth. Something about him reminded her of Albert. She
wondered where he was now. The last time they had met in their neighborhood,
he had demanded to know what was wrong and she had brushed him off. That night,
like many nights before, she soaked her pillow with tears. Since Uncle Richard
raped her, she had refused to sleep in the same room and switched rooms with
her youngest brother. It had not been difficult to convince him because, as the
only girl, she had the best room after the master’s bedroom her dad shared with
her step mum.
‘Please, come
watch our training this evening.’
‘What training?’
‘Seriously?’ He
looked pleadingly at the sky with both hands raised. ‘You don’t know I’m a
B-baller?’
Bimpe shrugged.
He shuffled
backwards, ‘this evening, basketball court by five…please come,’ turned and
hurried back to his friends.
Bimpe showed up.
But she sat behind everybody else and disguised herself with a scarf. The next
day, she was coming out of her lecture hall when she met Tayo waiting for her.
‘How did you know
I would be here,’ she asked without breaking stride.
‘I have my ways.’
He was grinning as he fell in step with her. ‘You didn’t come to the court.’
‘I did.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘There was no way
I could have missed you.’
‘Ha!’
They were now in
front of her hostel. ‘Will you go out with me?’
‘Don’t you have a
girlfriend already? Thought you’re Mr. Popular,’ Bimpe said as she walked away.
That evening she
didn’t wear the headscarf and he walked her back to the hostel after training.
It was dark when they parted ways.
Their relationship
was in its third week when Bimpe visited Tayo at his place off campus where
he shared a three-bedroom flat with other students.
‘Welcome to my
humble abode,’ he said as he unlocked the door to his room.
Bimpe kicked off
her heels and stepped onto the carpet. On a reading table sat multiple award
plaques and a picture of Tayo standing tall in full basketball kit, a ball in
the crook of his arm. The broad smile he wore was indication enough that they
had just won a tournament at the time. CDs filled a shelf that would have been
ideal for books.
‘You have a nice
place.’ Bimpe turned around to face him and pointed. ‘Where are your books?’
Tayo shrugged.
‘Here isn’t a library, is it?’ He waved a hand toward the large mattress
covered with a bed-sheet patterned with footballs, basketballs and other sports
equipment. ‘Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable.’
Bimpe sat
awkwardly on the chair facing the reading table.
‘C’mon, that’s not
comfortable enough.’
‘I’m okay.’ She
smoothened invisible creases on her skirt and crossed her legs. Suddenly, Bimpe
wished she had worn a pair of jeans.
Tayo squatted and
brought out a bottle of Fanta from the refrigerator. He held it up and looked
inquiringly at her. She nodded. He straightened up, cracked open the cap with
his teeth and placed it before her.
Bimpe studied him.
In his turf, he moved about with assurance, cockiness replaced by an
overwhelming air of confidence.
He squatted again,
this time before the Home Theater on the carpet. The TV flashed on and a man
and woman were shown sitting on a couch. Suddenly the man grabbed her and
shoved her down. Bimpe shut her eyes and opened them. The man had raised the
woman’s skirt and was–
‘Please put that
thing off!’ She opened her eyes. It wasn’t the man she was seeing now but Uncle
Richard. ‘Pleeaase…’
‘What’s wrong with
you?’ Tayo pointed the remote control and the TV went blank.
Bimpe was
breathing hard now. Then she sprang up. ‘I’m leaving.’
‘Whattt?’ Tayo’s
eyes blazed. ‘We just got here. Haven’t you watched blue film before?’
Bimpe looked
around like she may have lost something. Noting her purse was already clutched
in her hand, she moved toward the door. But Tayo was already there, his broad
shoulders completely blocking any chance of escape. Bimpe gazed up at him.
‘Tayo, please move.’
‘You think you’ll
just come here, to my kaban, and leave like that?’ He scoffed. ‘You wan make me
laughing stock, abi?’
‘What do you
mean?’ Bimpe looked down, and then up at him again. Everything was beginning to
fall into place.
‘You think I’m a
fool, abi? Taking you to the movies, buying you ice cream and suya…’
‘Are you joking?
So, this, me and you, was all–‘
Tayo shoved her.
Her heels didn’t help. Bimpe tripped and fell on the carpet as a searing pain
shot up her ankle. Tayo pounced on her and lifted her skirt. Suddenly the
nightmare of her experience with Uncle Richard washed over Bimpe and she began
to cry uncontrollably.
For a moment, Tayo
hesitated. Then he sank his finger between her legs, as if he was about to help
her deliver a baby, and smirked. ‘Not sure you’re a virgin sef.’
Something happened
to Bimpe there, something she would later find hard to explain, but a strange
calm washed over her as she lay still and shut her eyes. She gritted her teeth
from the pain in her ankle and pretended every other discomfort was coming from
there. Later, when Tayo sighed and rolled off her, she pushed herself to her
feet, straightened her skirt, and without a backward glance, ambled out of his
room.
5
Her elder brother,
Kunle, was home when she arrived. He was seated beside her father, across from
Uncle Richard and a busty girl in an Ankara skirt and blouse.
‘Ahhh…dear, sis.’
He ran up to her and hugged her. ‘What? Surprised to see me?’ He
lifted her chin. ‘I just started my official leave so I’ll be around for a
while.’
Bimpe stared at
the couple who were now all smiles.
‘My dear, your
uncle has brought home a wife, finally.’ Her father beamed.
‘Good afternoon,
Daddy.’ Bimpe glanced at her brother with a forced smile. ‘I’ll be in my room.’
She could feel everyone’s eyes on her back as she walked away, eyes downcast.
She heard her father say something about school stress just before she shut the
door to her room.
Bimpe leaned
against her door and sobbed till she slept, right there on the floor. It was
Kunle’s knock that woke her up. ‘Give me a minute,’ she shouted back as she
checked her face in the dressing table mirror before opening it.
‘What’s wrong? You
look–’
‘I’m fine…just
school stress.’
Kunle sat beside
her on the bed. ‘I don’t mean to pry, but you know you can tell me anything.’
She forced a
smile. ‘It’s nothing, really, I’m fine.’ Bimpe played with his shirt collar.
‘Hmm…You’re a big boy now O. How’s work like in Lagos?’
‘So-so.’ He
shrugged. Kunle knew something was troubling her, yet, like the considerate big
brother he was, he held back. They had always been close, but his oil company
job in Lagos had put a strain on their relationship. Without mum, him and
Hajara who was now far away in Adamawa, there had been no one she could talk
to. But here he was now. There was so much backlog of information. What good
would it do if she told him now that Uncle Richard was a goat and a pervert,
and that she was raped, again, just yesterday, by a man she thought could help
her forget all her pain?
Bimpe sighed.
Mistaking that as
cue, Kunle rose. ‘Let me allow you rest.’ He patted her hair. ‘Catch up on gist
later. I and Uncle Richard are going somewhere after we drop off his
wife-to-be.’
She nodded.
An hour later,
while her father was in his room and Bimpe was in the kitchen, she heard the
front door open and hurried out. Uncle Richard strolled across the living room
with a smile on his face. ‘You’ve grown into a very beautiful woman, Bim.’ He
sat down. ‘Please get me a glass of cold water.’
‘Where’s my
brother?’
‘He branched
somewhere. Ah, don’t you know he has a girlfriend in town now?’
Bimpe bit her lip.
They used to be so close, now everyone was grown and by themselves. As she made
her way back to the kitchen, she felt Uncle Richard’s eyes on her. He yelled
for water again and Bimpe stiffened. Her hands shook as she fetched a bottle
and glass from the refrigerator. Suddenly the kitchen door swung open. She
jumped and the glass crashed to the floor. Uncle Richard inched close until he
stood right behind her, his body grazing hers. Bimpe whirled round and pushed
him with all her might. He struggled to maintain balance but the pieces of
glass made him skid on the tiles and fall backwards, and with a cracking sound,
hit his head on the floor.
He laid there,
blood seeping from the back of his head. Bimpe’s hands, now bunched into fists,
rested against her chest. Her heartbeat slowed until it was normal again. The
kitchen door flung open and her father and Kunle stood there, wide-eyed.
6
‘It’s called
manslaughter,’ I said.
‘No. I killed him.
I…I wanted to…in my heart.’
‘We all wish dead
those who hurt us, especially like that.’
Bimpe shook her
head and it dawned on me how much burden this woman had carried and for how
long.
‘There were
others.’ She sighed and continued.
7
No one ever
suspected Bimpe pushed her uncle. She returned to school after the burial and
sometimes found herself smiling for no good reason. But that was before she saw
Tayo again, before she learned her entire faculty knew “the irresistible Tayo
had conquered her.”
But this did not
make Bimpe hatch a plan, just yet, until she became roommates with Gloria. The
poor girl returned one night to narrate how her boyfriend forced her to have
sex with him at Sodom and Gomorrah. This was the name coined after a popular
place where lovers hung out. It was also known for having the largest deposit
of used condoms.
While Gloria and
her boyfriend were at it, she insisting she wasn’t ready and he already halfway
inside her, two of the institution’s security men caught them. At this point,
Gloria sobbed nonstop and Bimpe and the other roommate held her for over twenty
minutes.
‘Jude...he ran off
and left me in their hands.’ Gloria burst into tears again.
Openmouthed, Bimpe
exchanged a glance with her other roommate and then stared down at Gloria who
remained bent, avoiding eye contact with any of them.
It couldn’t be
what she was already thinking. Bimpe nudged her. ‘You must tell us, please.
What happened?’
For the first time
since she started her story, Gloria raised her head and looked at each of them
straight in the eyes. ‘They took turns raping me, and I heard one say, “if the
boy can do, why not us? Na free food.”’
Bimpe cursed under
her breath and sprang to her feet. ‘Will you be able to recognize the security
men?’
Gloria shook her
head. ‘No.’
‘We should report
to the school authority. The police must get involved,’ the other roommate
said.
This your
boyfriend, what department is he in?’ Bimpe asked.
‘We must report–’
‘Kasham, they
won’t help her.’ Bimpe faced her roommate held up her fingers and ticked them
off one after the other. ‘One, she was there of her own freewill, with her
boyfriend. No one will believe he forced himself on her. Two, the security men
were on duty and had a right to be where they were at that time while Gloria
and her rapist boyfriend were there against school rules at that late hour. To
make matters worse, Gloria has no witness and her useless boyfriend was a
participant.
‘What if I have
HIV now? What if I get pregnant?’ Gloria sobbed.
They took her to
the school clinic that night, where Gloria recounted what happened and said she
didn’t know those who raped her.
The next day,
armed with information about Gloria’s boyfriend, Bimpe paid Jude a visit in the
boys’ hostel. She found him in his room with friends, rapping along to 2Pac’s
Dear Mama blasting from a CD player. When she introduced herself as Gloria’s
roommate, a frown crossed his face. Eager for his friends to be out of earshot,
he quickly agreed when she asked to speak with him in private.
‘How’s she?’ he
asked once they were outside the hostel gate, a hint of uncertainty in his
voice.
‘You tell me. We
haven’t seen her since yesterday, and,’ she held his gaze, ‘we know she was
with you last night.’
‘Me?’ He jabbed a
finger at his chest. ‘We separated early…I think…she went to the library
afterwards or some’n.’
‘Really?’ Bimpe
stood akimbo. ‘You were both spotted at Sodom and Gomorrah at about midnight.’
Jude shuffled his
feet, looked across his shoulders and then back at Bimpe. ‘Don’t understand.
She lost or some’n?
‘Look here.’ She
pointed a finger in his face. ‘Forget this your fake swag and listen good. You
have from now till evening to find her and make peace, or I swear, you will
have me to deal with in this school.’ Bimpe left him there without a backward
glance.
8
He found Gloria,
and it was easy because he only needed to dial her number on his mobile phone.
But when she told him how she was raped when he fled, his face turned into a
mask and he refused to say another word. Then Jude made an excuse about
preparing for an upcoming test and disappeared. There was no apology, no
comforting embrace.
Bimpe seethed
after hearing Gloria recount what transpired. ‘Men are beasts and should be
treated as such,’ she said.
A week later,
Jude’s corpse was found close to a brothel off-campus. The story that made the
rounds was that he had had a disagreement with someone in the area which led to
a fight in which he was murdered. But Bimpe knew the true story. He was
poisoned by a prostitute she hired in a whore house he frequented.
9
‘Tayo’s was
different and more personal. I lured him through a girl I paid to date him. She
wasn’t even a student. But, of course, he didn’t know this. She put stuff in
her vagina that made him weak and less active. He became less energetic in the
basketball court and students joked that he was getting too much sex.’ Bimpe
laughed until she began to cough.
‘Sorry. Here..’ I
handed her a bottle of water. She drank up and suddenly appeared sober.
‘So, everything I
say here is confidential, right?’
‘Of course,’ I
said.
Bimpe played with
her nails for some seconds, and then looked up. ‘I sound like a witch, right?’
‘Do you feel good
about your life so far?’
‘Ha! I wish.’
‘So, tell me, why
are you here?’
She stared at her
bottle of water on the table between us and shifted position on her chair. ‘I
don’t know. You’re the therapist. Tell me what I need.’
‘I think you
know.’
‘I do?’
I inched close.
‘Tell me, why do you think after all you‘ve done, you still aren’t happy?’
Bimpe stared at a
spot on the wall. I wasn’t sure whether she heard me or was simply ignoring the
question.
‘Do you–’
‘I want to stop
this vendetta.’ Bimpe bit her lower lip and looked me in the eye. ‘I’ve lost
count of men I have harmed or killed…and I am tired of it all.’
‘So you really
want to stop?’
‘Yes…but…there’s a
problem.’
10
The NGO was a
front for Bimpe’s “man-beast” hunt. On the surface, it had the perfect
appearance of a women’s support group, a place where rape victims shared their
stories and helped each other. But there was more, call it a special team if
you like, an army of vengeful females who did the dirty work of “disabling”
Abuja’s serial rapists.
Bimpe started by
rallying together girls who had rape history in her university. After her
graduation, she registered The Female Caregivers as a non-profit organization.
Now her soldiers were all over the place, many of them seeking to take revenge.
To disband them, she focused on the support group program as advised by her
therapist. The women’s stories didn’t seem to have an end. New faces poured in
daily, a clear sign that the city had rapists on the loose. When a busty woman
in Ankara stepped into the room, Bimpe introduced her and the women gave her a
standing ovation.
11
‘Thanks for
visiting us,’ Bimpe said as she sat across from me in the restaurant. She had
removed the artificial eyelashes and wore a blue Ankara blouse with matching
trousers. Her smile wasn’t strained but flowed into her eyes and gave her a
radiant look.
‘You’re welcome,’
I said. ‘Nice blouse.’
Bimpe’s smile
broadened. ‘Just trying to be like you, I guess.’ She pointed at my outfit.
‘You always look good in Ankara.’
I returned her
smile. There are boundaries to patient-therapist relationships, but I had since
broken some with Bimpe. Right now, I was about to break another. After we
placed our orders, I leaned forward. ‘My dear, have I ever told you why I chose
to be a therapist specifically for rape victims?’
Bimpe sipped her
drink and sat back. ‘No.’
I sighed. ‘You
remember your late Uncle Richard brought home a girl the day he died?’
She paused, glass halfway to her lips. ‘Yes.’
‘That was me.’
Bimpe’s glass
slipped from her fingers and landed on its side with a thud, spilling her
drink. Her eyes widened and her hands began to shake.