THE END

“…of darkness then light.

Of complete cession.

Boom boom, boom boom.

Of silence eternal.

The end…..”

I am Dubem.  I woke up this morning with a stifling sense of foreboding. Lo, my wife Uchenna lay shivering in a pool of her own sweat.

It’s a hot day in Yola and I am sweating and panting as I climb up hill to the Church of Assumption. I’d had to park at the bottom of the hill as the car park is full. I love my wife Uchenna and I would die for her but this errand is one I wish I didn’t have to run. It is a Sunday morning and my wife is home alone and ill in bed and I would much rather be at home with her. Unfortunately Felicia her best friend is leaving for the States tonight and Uchenna has a package for her sister, so here I am. A young man brushes past me and hurries on up without an apology. His yellow caftan makes me uneasy but I brush off the feeling.  I have to hurry back to my wife is my one consuming thought.

I haven’t been in a church since my wedding three years ago and to say it feels strange is an understatement. I sit myself at the back and wait as I have sent a bb message to Felicia. I wonder how much of the mass I would have to take before she comes to relieve me. I try to listen as the priest talks about God’s love. His voice has a hypnotic quality and for the first time today my sense of foreboding eases off a little. I say a little prayer for Uchenna as a fat lady with two kids squeezes past me to sit at the other end of the pew. One of the kids a little girl of about four years old smiles at me. She has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. I smile back.

Suddenly, I hear a sound like a banger and I feel intense burning heat from my inside. It started at the back of my throat and in the blink of an eye it consumes my whole body. I do not know what to think. I black out briefly. When I come to, it’s cold, very cold and misty. The church is empty seems like mass is over. Where is Felicia then? A yellow fabric clad limb catches my attention. Why is there a severed arm lying on the aisle? I pick myself and Uchenna’s package up off the floor and take a few steps forward. My foot encounters something which rolls slightly. It is the slightly charred head of my little friend; her eyes are glazed in an eternal question. I begin to cry.

“What is this?”

My eyes suddenly seem to open and all around me is death. A woman with both legs blown off stares ahead in a state of shock, the priest is slumped against the podium, impaled by a large piece of metal. I can neither hear nor smell anything but I feel fine except for an overwhelming spring of sorrow in my soul.   I can’t take much more of this; I have to get home to Uchenna. As I turn to look once more at my little friend, I see me. Half of my head is blown off. I stare in fascination as grey matter tinged with blood seep out of the jagged gaping wound.

I will myself to wake up from this bad dream. It works as the gruesome scene fades away.

…………………………………………………

Uchenna goes to the table and tries to eat the breakfast that Dubem made for her. She smiles fondly as she feels the stone cold boiled yam. It hadn’t occurred to him that by the time she’d be ready to eat, the yams would be quite cold and inedible. She eats the cold eggs and swallows the analgesic. They are going to the hospital as soon as Dubem returns. She flops on the sofa and turns on the TV. “Breaking News on Aljazeera, a suicide bomber today detonated himself…….” The bell peals four times in sets of twos. Dubem is back she goes to get the door.

“The steady unrest and menace of boko haram is steadily working on everyone’s nerves…..”

She thinks as she opens the door to Dubem.  A news reporter’s voice comes on on the TV;

“…..the body count so far at the church of Assumption in Mubi, Yola State has been placed at thirty; there are no survivors from the main auditorium of the church.”

Uchenna opens the door slowly. There isn't anyone there, only the sticky taped wrapped package that her husband had taken out this morning lay at the door step.

THE END

RIO

THE BEGINNING AND THE END (YEMOJA'S OWN)

CLICK HERE FOR PART ONE

Mrs Phillips cast sidelong glances at her grand daughter and great grand daughter as they each sit lost in thought and bouncing softly as the car's wheels encountered potholes. They are on their way to Lokoja to bury her daughter Yejide. It had taken nothing short of  the threat of her dying to get Titi to come back home to Nigeria to honor her late mother. In her eighty years of existence, Mrs Phillips has learnt that every of  life's choices carries a price tag, and that people will always pay for their choices in their life time. As she dozes off, she reminisces about some of her life's choices and the prices she'd had to pay. She remembers how for years after marriage she had been without a child. How her in-laws had made her life miserable. She remembers crying to bed every night in despair. She remembers getting on her husbands' nerves as he insisted that it was him she was married to and he married her because he loved her and not just to bear kids. She remembers following her friend Keji to Iya Efun. Iya Efun assured her that everything would be fine and prescribed a sacrifice to the river goddess. She remembers the sacrifice; one guinea fowl, one mirror, and a  bowl of honey. Then there was the strange dream afterwards.  She'd been at the pool and some lady had tried to pull her under. They'd struggled a while but somehow it'd ended on a friendly note. Her "friend" told her she would have a child but she had to promise to share her. She had flippantly agreed but forgot the dream as soon as she'd woken up. It wasn't until ten years later when her daughter Yejide had gotten missing on a trip to the beach that she'd remembered. It was a picnic, the parents were sitting in the shade keeping an eye on the kids who were picking shells. When it was time to leave, all the children were accounted for but Yejide. For the next three days, Mrs Phillips was inconsolable as they searched high and low without any sign of Yejide. On the third day, groggy from sedation, she'd heard screams and had rushed out to see a beaming Yejide fly into her arms. After several hours of grilling all they could get from Yejide was that a nice,beautiful lady had seen her lost and had taken her in. This was met with mixed feelings as they all wondered why said "nice" lady hadn't tried to contact them since Yejide's picture had been on TV from the very next day. When they probed further, Yejide became extremely agitated. They returned to the beach and combed the shore looking for "nice" lady's house to no avail. They returned home and resolved to forget the incident just glad that Yejide was back home. A day after the shore search,Yejide came out to meet Mrs Phillips in the garden, the story that she told her chilled Mrs Phillips' to the bone. The story was for her ears alone and no one else was ever to hear it as Yeye had instructed. According to her, she'd been playing with a turtle when the nice beautiful lady had called her into the water. She'd asked her to call her Yeye and told  her that she was also friends with her mother. She had been taken on a tour of the sea and it had been so much fun. Yeye had given her a white peacock but had promised to take care of it for her until she was old enough. She told her mum  that she hadn't been there more than thirty minutes and was surprised that they said she'd been gone three days. Mrs Phillips was sweating profusely by the time Yejide was done. she remembered her dream right after the sacrifice, right before she took in.
"What have I done"?
She thought fearfully.
Strangely enough when she approached her again a few days later to retell her story, it seemed like Yejide's memory of the event had been wiped clean. She couldn't remember anything.
Twenty years ago, Yejide had again answered Yeye's call. Unlike her first disappearance, Mrs Phillips knew her child was alive. While everyone worried themselves sick, she waited. She waited for three months then one day a letter came; It was from Yejide. Despite her express wish to be left alone, Mr Phillips made them make the trip to Lokoja to "bring back his child". That it was futile was evident as soon as they set eyes on her in the shrine amidst her peacocks. Mr Phillips returned home broken hearted. Titi, Yejide's daughter never forgave her for abandoning her.

Elaine can't sit still from excitement. They are in Lokoja for her grandmothers funeral but they have been sitting in the car for almost an hour. The twelve year old is getting restless. Suddenly she finds herself out of the car and sitting in front of the bamboo shack, she'd been staring at from the car window a moment ago. Her grand mother is sitting on a stool across from her and smiling at her. She recognizes her from her pictures. They are surrounded  by peacocks. Cradled in her grand mothers arms,  is an albino peacock which she stretches out to Elaine. Elaine accepts the peacock but thrusts it back into her grand mothers arms quickly. It is as cold as ice. Yejide looks disappointed as she shakes her head questioningly at Elaine. Elaine shakes her head  in confirmation and immediately wakes up.
.......................................................................

Yejide died on the morning of her fifty first birthday. Devotees had come to meet her sitting among her peacocks, in her customary white and blue cotton iro and buba. Her head was leaned on a bamboo pole as though only dozing. She was stone cold dead, with a serene smile on her face. All efforts to get her to the cemetery had failed. No car would start with her body in it but the same car would, when she was taken out. Eventually devotees attempted to carry her in a donkey drawn hearse. As soon as her body was placed in the hearse, the donkey slumped and died. It became obvious that she did not want to be moved. They tried to put her body in the water but it seemed like the water didn't want it either. Eventually Baba Dupe the fisherman was contacted from his hospital bed in the UK. He told them to get in touch with her daughter, that she would know what to do. Initially Titi had refused to return but Mrs Phillip knew the buttons to press, the most efficient being Gerald, Titi's white husband.

Titi is right upset about sitting at the side of the road in a strange town for close to two hours while her mother's corpse refused to be moved. She had no clue as to Baba Dupes' claims about knowing what to do but here she was. Suddenly Elaine jumps out of the car and races towards her grand mothers bamboo shrine. Titi screams in horror and chases after her but she is no match for the twelve year old's speed. She stops short and watches with the crowd of devotees as Elaine fearlessly picks up an albino peacock from the group of peacocks and sets it in the water. The crowd watch in shock as the peacock swims a little way off like a duck then dips its head into the water and is submerged. As Elaine returns to her mother, the car with Yejide's body starts and the funeral procession drive straight to the cemetery.


THE END
RIO

THE CALL (YEMOJA'S OWN)

This is a true story.

Yejide looks at herself in the mirror; her eyes are blood shot slits in a puffy bed. Her mascara, eye shadow, blush and lipstick are all smeared into a grotesque clowns face. Even her teeth have lipstick stains.  A dry sob racks her slender form. She doubles over again and clutches her hurting stomach. She’d had coco pops at seven thirty this morning but food was the last thing on her mind at the moment. Her chest and throat hurt. She has been crying for four straight hours but nothing has changed. She is still in her wedding gown. There is still no sign of Onome. She looks in the mirror drained to her toes of emotions. Her family had come to knock and plead with her to come out intermittently but she couldn’t face anyone. All she wants is to be alone.

She knows what she must do and it has to be done by her alone.

She braces herself and takes off her wedding gown, splashes cold water on her face and calls her mother who is only too eager to go to her daughter.  Perhaps if she’d taken another look in the mirror, she would have given herself a few more minutes before facing her mum.  Mrs. Phillips’ hurried footsteps falter as she enters the room. She half listens as Yejide tells her she is going off to spend the night at a hotel as she cannot handle the crowd of relatives and inevitable sympathetic advice and commiseration that was sure to ensue should she step out of the room and she no longer feels like being indoors. Mrs. Phillips is petrified; something about Yejide is totally off. It is in her eyes, in the way her words tumble over themselves out of her mouth. 

“Kiss Titi for me. Tell her I love her”.

Yejide doesn’t wait for a response from her mother; she picks up a packed overnight bag and breezes out of the house to curious stares and whispers. She doesn’t blame them. She’s just been stood up at the altar for the third time. Mrs. Phillips leans on the wall and cries for her daughter; tears of fear, of impotent pain and of regret.

With single mindedness, Yejide drives straight to Isheri in Berger, there is a small river there. She had been there to buy fish with her friend Remi, whose husband would eat cotton wool if it had sea food in it. She gets strange looks as she parks and jumps out of her car but she doesn’t care. They said she was possessed by a water spirit. Well she was headed for the water and they would explain to her today what exactly it is they want from her.

Yejide has an MBA in economics but sells clothes from the boot of her car. At Thirty one, she still has no idea of what she wants to do with her life. She’d tried several things but never made a success of anything. She relies largely on her parents for financial help. They never complained but Yejide wished she didn’t have to. With her exceptional looks men were never far away from her but none had ever seen it through to marriage, not even the father of her daughter. She is fed up and must get answers today.

For three hours before dusk, fisher men and traders stare at her in open curiosity as she sits on a jutting rock by the shore, but no one makes any moves to approach her. As it gets darker, people become fewer and fewer until it seems she is all alone. Still she waits. Suddenly a wave seems to pass over her and she realizes that she is all alone in the middle of nowhere by a strange river. Her heart lurches in fear. She looks at the time and it is ten pm.

“Oh Lord, I really am possessed”.

She thinks as she scrambles off the rock. Her legs and bum are numb and barely cooperating but she cannot concentrate on that right now. She just wants to get to her car, if it hasn’t been stolen or vandalized.

As she turns to leave, she sees him. Yejide isn’t sure if her perception is distorted because of her state of mind, but he seems taller than he looks in her dreams. He isn’t any less handsome or well built. As usual his eyes hold her captive. Yejide shuts her eyes tight and opens them again. She must be hallucinating; she’s had nothing to eat the whole day and what a day it has been.  As she reopens her eyes, he is standing right before her. Yejide is sure her heart has stopped beating. A local saying flashes through her mind a second before she is yanked from off her feet.

“Yanga dey sleep, trouble go wake am”.

Yejide gasps in shock fear and wonder as she is lifted off her feet. They seem to be flying for a nano second before they land right in the middle of the river. Then Yejide begins to struggle even though she realizes there is no point. The arm around her waist is unyielding. Holding her breath, she continues to struggle as they zoom deeper and deeper into the bottom of the dark and murky water. Her ears are filled with a loud sound of rushing water. Then it stops suddenly and is replaced with the almost imperceptible sound of a small breeze.

“Is this death?”

Yejide thinks just before a sudden bright light has her gasping in awe….they are in what appears to be a city, the very substance of which seems to be of some aquamarine stone.  She becomes light headed from sensory overload.  Suddenly she can taste the purity of the water on her skin and hear with her eyes the tinkling sounds of the oceans orchestra.  Her ears feel the peace and harmony of the underwater city as she realizes that she is breathing in air and not water.

They are on what appears to be a street with houses hewn out of coral reefs which seem to be alive. The colors are inexplicable as she has never seen such before and their radiance makes her eyes water. Her captor floats gently beside her, observing her as she takes in her surroundings in wonder. His long muscular legs have changed to a silvery fish tail but hers sans her shoes, are intact. The sand beneath her feet look like finely ground up glass, playfully reflecting the colors of the spectrum as the sun from above cuts through the water and bounces off on them.

The doors of a huge coral reef home are flung open and he waves her in. Yejide knows that if she steps into his abode, she would be his forever, so she digs her feet into the beautiful sand and shakes her head vigorously. Whatever it is that this being wants from her, he is not going to get her consent or cooperation.

“Get in”

His voice is gurglly and deep. Yejide is past fear; how much worse could it get? She shakes her head stubbornly. Mr Thing seems to be losing his patience. He flips his hand across the front of the house and the façade peels off like a banana skin leaving the interior of the house exposed like a doll house. Yejides' fear returns in full force. It is obviously a home but it is also a shrine to her.  A huge 7” by 7” painting of her covers the wall on one end and in little Plexiglas shelves reminiscent of those found at a museum are personal items of hers that had suddenly gone missing over the years; a foot of shoe, an earring, a blouse, a bracelet etc.

“Your home.”

His voice has taken on a pleading quality.

“This is not my home.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, the water warms up and for the first time since the whole incident began, the prevailing feeling of malevolence, disappears.  She senses victory as she takes in his sudden sad countenance which is tinged with reverence and fear? He is looking over her shoulders to the source of the warmth. Yejide turns and encounters an in coming wave of previously absent marine fauna swirling around in excitement.

She bursts into tears of relief as she beholds her, full, beautiful and motherly. Yemoja opens welcoming arms and the water around her bubbles even bluer as the sea takes up a haunting anthem that swallows up every iota of doubt in Yejides mind.  Yejide goes into her arms sobbing in relief.

“Welcome”.

She whispers to Yejide as she presses her against her soft belly and into a rising vortex.

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

Baba Dupe the fisherman rushes out of the water and watches the strange waves as they leap higher and higher. He knows instinctively that his life is about to change. Then as suddenly as they began, the waves stop.  At the edge of the river is a young woman who seems to have been birthed by the river.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

It’s been twenty years since Yejide was found by Baba Dupe the fisherman at the water side in far away Lokoja in Kogi state. It’s been twenty years since she answered the call and to this day, she can be found ministering to all who seek her help. She lives alone with her peacocks in Yemoja's shrine, a bamboo hut and can be heard whispering to the spirits. How she feeds no one knows but she lives and glows with an ever present smile.

THE END?
 RIO

It is said that Baba Dupe built her shrine, where thousands trudge daily to seek for one blessing or another.

It is said that in the early days a few fool hardy men attempted to molest her, they were found drowned 'on dry land'.

It is said that she is responsible for the success of Baba Dupe's sardine packaging company and his sudden wealth.

BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE 3

ESTELLE AND ESTELLE

Mother’s attitude about the Nonso episode really upset me. I didn’t think she had done any better than me. My father and Danjuma weren’t indicative of her better judgement. She had no right to act that whole “look what you did to yourself because you didn’t have me to direct you” way. It really pissed me off. My chance for revenge came soon enough. Mother went out to run errands and I had no lectures that Friday morning. As soon as her car drove out the gate, I entered her room. Dangana wasn’t asleep in bed like I thought, he was having a shower. As I stepped naked into the shower cubicle with him, he seemed frozen. He had attempted to touch me several times after that night but each time, I fought him off and threatened to let mother know. He’d left me alone after a short while but I noticed his eyes on me frequently. Mother noticed too and hardly ever left us both alone. That day was a rare occurrence. I told him mother was out as I pressed my body to his. He was like a man possessed. On and on and on we went only stopping for Dangana to call mother to make sure she wasn’t coming back any time soon. We went from the bathroom to their bed and on the single sofa in their room. I couldn’t believe how much of a kick it turned out to be. Having sex with my mother’s lover was a trip and some.

One day she came into my bathroom while I was getting ready to go and see a “friend”. She hung around a little uncertainly as I washed up my privates with alum for the tightening effect. I kind of knew why she was there and I knew exactly what I would say to her. Dangana had become stupid of late and would even try to cup a feel with mother right there in a room.

“Is Dangana bothering you?”

“I don’t know what that means but yes mother, I am sleeping with him.”

Her only reaction was an involuntary twitch at the corner of her mouth....but I saw beyond that as I brazenly applied shear butter mixed with Makari on my naked body. I saw the pain in her eyes and it gave me joy. She didn’t say a word. I didn’t see Dangana until a little over a week later when I saw his obituary in a national daily. We never spoke about it but I knew that she knew that I knew that she had a hand in his death. That was that for Dangana in our lives.

Men are such a bother. For some months after,  I stayed away from sex for pleasure. Mother and I resumed our uneasy business relationship; she had most of Dangana’s links. I became more and more aware of a particular request that mother always turned down; me and another girl, with a “friend”. I wondered why. There was little that I hadn’t done or hadn’t been done to me by “friends” so why was this different. I asked mother and her answer sealed it for me.

“It’s a sin” she said with her face crinkled up in disgust.

Within a few days, I had picked up a girl from the salon. Again the thought of hurting mother gave the situation more appeal that it was actually worth to me. I also believed that I found where I belong. I’m not a lesbian, neither am I bi sexual but as long as I could hurt mother and get some emotion free, uncomplicated sexual satisfaction, I was down with it. It became my habit to have brief intense affairs with women. I chose women who were married as they were least likely to go yakking. My product value wasn’t any less with them, they strove to please me.

When I was twenty four I met Maimuna. I had become tired of my randomness and needed a steady lover and Maimuna was ideal. The pretty quiet ministers’ wife was crazy about me. I liked her well enough and was comfortable with her.

ESTELLE AND BRIGADIER SAMBO

He was one of my best "friends". Mother called him my "resting place". Never has there been a man who worshipped the very ground I walked on like Musa Sambo, the chief of army staff. He spoilt me and mother stupid. Mother suddenly hit upon the smart idea that I become his third wife. I didn't mind, an end to "friends" and the man worshiped me. I had it all under control. Sadly, despite continuous prodding from mum and I, there was no talk of marriage.

In came the black prophet. Mum claimed that he had helped my appeal all these years. He assured me that Musa was mine if I really wanted him. I did; I was ready to settle down. A week before I was to return to find out what the "spirits" wanted from me to make Musa mine, the selfish bitch that is my mother goes and has a heart attack in the middle of the night. I found her stone cold dead the next morning. How inconsiderate. As usual she had acted with just herself in mind. I buried her the next day without much ado as I'm sure she would have wanted. She had no family so I was well and truly alone. I bemoaned my fate and actually drove myself ill from worrying about handling money and responsibilities myself. Mother had taken care of all that and I really did not know what to do with all that business. Neither did I care; I am a beautiful person that should be taken care of. In the next six months I would turn twenty five and still unmarried. That was already one year behind target. I did not want that.

TO BE CONTINUED....

BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE 2

ESTELLE AND NONSO    

Hajara and Umita were my only “real” friends.  I met them when we moved from Rayfield in Jos to Army Engineers (forget the name; it is really just a housing estate). We grew up together and were kind of close. They were never really bothered about the gossip and mystery surrounding me and my mum, maybe because Umita's mum was also a single mum and Hajara's dad, the area drunk. We were something of a "crew" in the area. They were very curious about me but accepted me as a very private person. I appreciated their friendship as I was used to more wary friendship from other females at a tender age.

I so understand how Adam and Eve felt as they suddenly realised they were naked, my eureka moment?  I was fast asleep one night when I felt hands all over my body. I am normally immediately alert when I wake up but I was strangely lethargic and remained so as the oddest scenario played out. My mother's lover seemed intent on stimulating me. See, despite my extraordinary looks, I was very innocent about the opposite sex. He looked focused and determined as he stroked, rubbed and pinched. I was bewildered. I recognised that it was another transition. I was afraid of the coming stage in my pain filled young life. I was on fire. Sensations crackled in nerve endings I didn’t know I had. I wanted to fight him off but something strange was going on with me. I remembered mother making me a cup of cocoa last night. I thought it was strange considering my strict diet. My moaning seemed to have been his undoing. He started to breathe heavily as his erection stuck out. He didn’t look focused any more. He looked ravenous, like he wanted to eat me. He was breathing heavily and watching me with glazed eyes as I stared up at him, my waist still moving from the over flow of sensations. He pressed his thumb down, applying pressure on my clitoris. I bucked, then I heard her voice and realised that mother had been there all along. She ordered Dangana repeatedly to stop but he seemed like he was going to disregard her as his hands ran over my breast.

"Enough, enough, enough". 

She screamed and dragged him off me. The look on her face as they walked out of my room was my moment. Eureka, I am not so defenceless. I have grown used to that look on the faces of the majority women that I meet.  That night, I touched myself, mimicking what Dangana did to me. I was fourteen, heady with primal sexual need and power. The next day I met the weeping vice president. Even though he hurt me and I was scared silly all through, he met me a willing horny virgin. Even as the feelings ebbed to an anti climax, I finally began to understand the power of who and what I am.

I remained uncomplaining as my life as a sex object played out. I was enjoying being the beautiful one and learnt to twist mother the way I wanted. I was the one whose body men paid to possess. When I turned nineteen I met a boy, Nonso. Nonso was a final year student while I was in my second year. Umita had introduced us to her handsome toaster and I fell for him right there and then. He called me later on in the day to tell that it was me he wanted. I was used to male appreciation but sex for me was an exclusive product which I peddled as a means to an end. I had no time for boys but Nonso was different. He had a small apartment close to school and within a week, I’d moved in with him. Even though sex is something I am good at I had no personal need of it, until Nonso. Not one of my "friends" had ever taken the time to give me pleasure or quench the fire that Dangana started in me. Nonso did and more. We spent our nights in the throes of passion and our days doing same except when we had stuff to do. With Nonso, sex wasn’t just me giving pleasure; with Nonso it was about me getting pleasured. I was over the moon. Mother's reaction was unexpected. She neither looked for me, nor called me again after I ignored her calls a few times. She only sent me a bbm "when you find out what men are really like, you know your way home". Umita reacted badly, very badly. Hajara took sides with her. I couldn't care less, I was in love and so was Nonso.

For eight weeks and four days, I lived with Nonso and hardly a day went by that he didn't give me delirium inducing pleasure. One day he got back from lectures late with an unreadable expression on his face. He asked me if I knew a certain ambassador who was a "friend". Apparently Umita had somehow gotten to him and had given him a version of my life's story that was only close to the truth because she got that I was a plaything for the high and mighty. Senseless from my infatuation, I decided to come clean about my life.

In my unguarded moments, Nonso’s expression still haunts me. Disgust, he was disgusted with me. That night was different; that night, I was with a stranger whose only use for me was for sexual release.

A week later, I was back home. Mother smiled. Dr Williams examined me, performed an abortion and that was that. Except that I became sure that I do not like men.

TO BE CONTINUED....

BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE

I am Estelle. I have never had to take responsibility for my actions. My mother’s greed and lack of morals coupled with my self-indulgence got me here.  Now here I am right smack in the middle of the worst repercussion of my life and the bitch left me to handle it all alone.

I knew I was different from as soon as I could reason. My mother’s fixation with my grooming and appearance was awe inspiring. As young as three years old, I had realised that there is something about me. I only always see me in the mirror but Estelle the analytical sees the girl that makes people gasp and gawk.

ESTELLE AND GRACE
 25 years ago, a young prostitute named Grace landed a big fish. A French expatriate with an oil servicing company. She was his common law wife for six years. Four of which they shared with their daughter Estelle.
One day he upped and left never to be seen again. Grace was shaken. She had become complacent and existed as a housewife grateful for her position.Theirs was a peaceful home. There was no indication of  Jacques Duval's intentions. He had simply gone on a very usual trip home and never returned.

He used to cuddle me and kiss me and call me Princess. He told me stories of France, and taught me to say "viva la France". I loved kissing and cuddling with him.  The smell of tobacco on his bushy white beard spelt safety for me.  I couldn't believe that he would do that to me. I couldn't process it and so I waited but  on my sixth birthday my heart broke into tiny pieces as it finally dawned on me that he was gone and wasn't coming back. It was obvious he didn't want to be found. Mother was stunned. She wore her bitterness like perfume, it was every where. He rejected us.

My childhood memories are filled with pain. My childhood was filled with pain. Mother poured all her venom and energy into Estelle the product. She told me often how I was lucky to be "half caste" and that because of that we could and would never go hungry. It was years later that I understood. She sold the house, which he bought in my name and we lived on the funds realized. At six I started wearing a "back board" to "correct" my posture. I wore it for twelve hours almost everyday until I was ten years old. My shoes were also always a size too small for as long as I can remember, the result are a pair of dainty feet; prone to excruciating aches and pains but pretty and small. I had a palm oil rub applied to my body every fortnight after which I would spend an hour soaking in fresh milk in the bath tub. By the time I turned twelve, I was easily the most beautiful child for miles, everyone wanted to be friends with me. That wasn't perfect enough for mother; I spent my thirteenth birthday and the three subsequent weeks in bed,  on my side in a rented apartment in Florida. I had just had a Brazilian butt lift. All the extra fat from my stomach and back was refined and injected into me to produce one of my biggest assets. Of course I had to do the procedure all over again when I turned eighteen because my body had reabsorbed about a quarter of the  fat.

Then I began to wear a waist training corset. There are few more uncomfortable things. I protested, with my heart and soul but I was no match for mother. I got into a fight at school because the other kids thought there had to be something wrong with me for wearing such an undergarment. My teachers were shocked when mother rushed in, in response to their calls and was only concerned that I wasn't bearing and I wasn't going to be bearing any scars. I remember in the early days, I used to sleep with my hands tied to the bed post so I wouldn't take off the itchy, itchy corset.  Mother was scathing in the cruellest way and I quickly learnt the value of staying on her good side.

So you see, to Estelle, pain is a woman's life. To give pleasure to men you must endure pain.  Three months before I turned fourteen, it started. Estelle the commodity was birthed. I finally found out what mother's lover Dangana did for a living. He was a big time pimp with powerful connections. His racket was procuring kids and teenagers for the high and mighty..... paedophiles. I have to give it to mother and Dangana though, my "friends" were only cream of the crop, bonafide power brokers, visiting world leaders etc. They were very generous; and very sick men. I was surprised at my first "friend". He was the serving vice president of a first world country. He slobbered and wept as he took my virginity. I was used to pain, what was his story?

The rewards afforded us a good life style. One time, when I was fifteen I remember having sex with a fifteen year old boy for the viewing pleasure of the president of a West African country, half way through he joined us. To cut a long story short, this is my childhood.

TO BE CONTINUED...

B P

I am Estelle. I have never had to take responsibility for my actions. My mother’s greed and lack of morals coupled with my self-indulgence got me here.  Now here I am right smack in the middle of the worst repercussion of my life and the bitch left me to handle it all alone.

I knew I was different from as soon as I could reason. My mother’s fixation with my grooming and appearance was awe inspiring. As young as three years old, I had realised that there is something about me. I only always see me in the mirror but Estelle the analytical sees the girl that makes people gasp and gawk.