Story Title: A Very Wicked Madam
Category: Abuse / Violation
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Mrs. Johnson was well known in my village as a very generous woman, a woman with a nice heart, a philanthropist, a woman who loves kids, and a woman who loves to help. Everyone had good things to say about her and so when she asked my parents to hand me over to her for a brighter future, they were so happy and assured that I would get the best of care and future.
My name is Chidera and at that time I was eleven years old, and a little girl who just finished her primary school. Mrs Johnson had returned home for August meeting that fateful year and had told my parents that she would love to return to the city with me where she will put me in a very good school. Nobody doubted her, I too was equally happy to leave the village and start up life in a big city. My friends envied me, I saw myself as a special girl. I thanked god for the opportunity and so with high spirit I headed to Lagos with Mrs. Johnson.
Mrs Johnson had just four kids. Her first son was sixteen years old, her second child (a girl) was thirteen. The two last ones were nine and five respectively. I was so happy meeting them and felt I was in the midst of a wonderful family but on the second day of getting there, I noticed her children avoided me and always referred to me a village girl instead of calling me by my name. I felt bad about it and hoped my aunt Johnson would her children but she never did instead I was handed a list of tasks I was to do every day.
First I had to sweep the whole house which was a five room bedroom bungalow, mob all the bedrooms and parlor, wash the dishes and join her in the kitchen to prepare the meals. I really wasn’t used to doing such huge tasks in the village but had no choice than to endure but if only it were those tasks, I really wouldn’t have much to complain about but unfortunately I ran errands for every member of the family plus the children. I was equally the Nanny of her last child and so never had any resting moment for myself. No time to rest, no time to play like my mates, no time to even sleep in the afternoon. I was busy in that house from morning till night and when it came to sharing food, everyone remembered I was just a little kid and given a very small portion that barely kept me going. And yet they rubbed it on my face as if I was finishing their food, as if they were only doing me a big favor, as if I never ate in my village.
Slowly the excitement of being in a big city died down in me. I couldn’t imagine spending all my youthful life in such environment. It looked so impossible and like prison. I wished I had remained in the village with my parents even if it meant eating only one square meal a day. Mr johnson just like most men was a bit kind to me but was hardly in the house nor even cared to know what happened to me. He never really put interest in me and so never cared to know how I fared in the house, unless whenever something wrong I did was reported to him.
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