The struggle of an average african girl child .

 The struggle of an average african girl child .

Growing up in an African home can sometimes be traumatic, I remember in my early teens , I was accused of being pregnant even though I was  a virgin at the time , the grounds for the accusations was because i had severe malaria which made me throw up a lot , high temperature and fever was also symptoms.

We have this bizarre beliefs that makes a an average African girl struggle harder, we struggle to fight the trauma , abuse  and stigmatization from our parents , wards and society at large .

A girl child’s best friend expecially as a growing teen is meant to be her mum, because her mum has gone through what ever she is going through or will go through ; from body shaming to puberty to how to handle the opposite sex and others.But the way an average African mother reacts and behaves , pushes them away turning there affection to there mum outward.

Growing up was a day to day struggle , I wasn’t close to my mum, which made things a lot more harder , We usually had these consistent fights and most of the things she accused me of I couldn’t even imagine doing.

  I remember One faithful morning on a Saturday, I woke in my new boxers , I always had this constant fear something might be wrong with me, this fear lingered for about 3 years of my life since , it circled round the fact that my mates started seeing their periods at 10 and I was already past 13  and no signs of puberty, I wasn’t even wearing half cuts not to speak of bra. Mum travelled two days before and wasn’t to be back until 3 days after.

 I woke up and my boxers were soaked “how could I have peed on the bed and not know “ I thought. Younger brother woke up earlier so I gave a sigh of relief, I stood up only to see my blanket stained red. I yelled, daddy rushed into the room right before I placed my blanket on it. “Angela why did you scream” daddy said out loud on entering the room,

 “I saw a rat “I lied,  

“Ok remind me to buy that rat poison “ said daddy as he walked out of the room,

“Ok sir”

“Walter!!”I dragged while whispering calling out to my elder brother. He came through the window.

“What is it? Am busy“ he said 

“I just saw blood “ I said , scared but excited as I realized nothing was physically wrong with me .He didn’t know what to say or do.

“Go and tell daddy to give you money for pad” he said 

“Ok. What about the blood stain..”

“Bring the bedsheets out side so I could wash it and use the toilet sponge and soap to scrub off the stains on the bed” he said 

“ ok bro, thank you”

I went to dad to get money for pad 

“Pad!!”

“Yes sir”

“How much is it “

“Daddy I am not sure since mummy started buying hers herself “

“ she buys it 1000 niara “

“ ok sir” I collected the money, changed and dashed out of the house , the pad was 350 though so I bought two and saved the change, I was learning from mum I guess.

I wore the pad so wrong that I stained every were I sat from the new bedsheets to the sofas in the sitting room till I got to my brothers room and he traced all my blood trails and we cleaned it up, then we watched a YouTube video on how to properly wear sanitary pads, we went to my dads shop, it was such a good day we made sales and got tips, we decided to buy wrist watches.....

      Mum came back after relaxing and taking a shower, so anxious I said “ mummy I want to show you something “ I brought out a big black leather that contained all my used pad, but the look on her face calmed me down, she ordered me to burn it the next morning, then we presented the wrist watch, she flared up 

“I said it” while raising her hand as I shifted with reflex 

“ you will be following your brother every time, now you have known man because of wrist watch “

“Mummy “ I yelled with tears dripping from my eyes 

“What is it?” Said dad as he came out of the room, mum explained to him then he concord that I saw my period.

        I cried to sleep, recalling when my friends told me how their mums was supportive and helped out .

Stay tuned.........