One lesson I learned the hardest way as a college student was never ever to have electronic chats with the least hint of sexual import with anyone, whether I mean it or its just for the fun of it.
I write this from behind my mother’s table-top supermarket located just opposite the main entrance to the only Junior High School at Abayem in the Eastern Region of Ghana where I come from.
Four years ago, I got my admission letter to read BSc Social Work at the prestigious College of Modern Arts & Science in the capital city. I was on cloud nine then, but the sudden thought of how to cater for the exorbitant initial admission fees and its accompanying high hostel bill made my heart sink. Why?…Well because my poor mother is the only breadwinner for my two older brothers, two younger sisters and myself. My dad?…He died in a motor accident when I was just a kid and the only memories I have of him are the old family pictures.
But being the first from the family to rise this high up the academic ladder, my mom vowed and did all she could – selling the expensive, heavy, hand-carved beads she inherited from her grandmother and the rich Ghanaian Kente cloths she received from my dad on her wedding day. She sold everything in her portmanteau except the gold jewellery she promised to give me on my wedding day – towards the payment of my fees. But since most of her buyers paid half price for her precious goods, obviously because my mom was desperate, we still needed a little more money to top up what she had accumulated. We therefore decided to go plead with Dr. Mensah, the rich owner of Adepa Clinic who had expressed an interest in getting me as a wife for his been-to son. So one Friday evening, my mom and I made our way to his house.
We were warmly received by Mrs. Mensah and when Dr. Mensah came in to see us, he exclaimed, looking directly at me while shaking my mom’s hand, “What a stroke of luck on my part. Just when I was thinking of coming to your house to introduce your husband who has come down for the summer vacation.”
I smiled coyly, as my mom had already warned me to, since she knew I am not the biggest fan of arranged marriages.
“Kofiiiii…Come down here oo. There’s someone I want you to meet,” Doc shouted.
“Just a sec Popsy,” a voice replied from upstairs.
As I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, I turned to have a look and I was shocked to the marrow to see the guy I had so mercilessly insulted just the previous evening, just because he attempted to “do me lie”. He also stopped and remained glued to the last but one step and frowned.
“Mesmerized by her beauty? I told you you’d fall for her at first glance, didn’t I?,” Doc beamed
“Pops, Maa, can I have a word with you guys in private for a sec?”, he said in the impeccable British accent I had mistaken to be LAFA earlier and his parents excused themselves and followed his son back upstairs
When they left us alone in the hall, I confessed my deeds to my mom and she started giving it to me there and then. I tried to convince her not to mention the main purpose for our visit but can one stop a mother desperate to help her own daughter? I gave up and stopped talking. She later stopped insulting me and we both sat in silence. We sat on the edge of the sofa when we heard footsteps coming down the stairs…
As the Mensah family descended, Mrs. Mensah walked past us into the dining area, Kofi stormed out of the house and we heard him drive away. The previous gay atmosphere gave in to a tense one and as Doc made his way to his seat, my mom dragged me along as she went down on her knees, holding his leg and pleading amidst tears.
“Doc please let bygones be bygones. Please don’t sack us from your house. Please forgive her. She’s just a small, ignorant girl. Please listen to us,” she ranted and I looked on helplessly as my poor mom cried her eyes out to the man who is to be our saviour.
“Enough woman!!…Okay Okay I’m listening. Sit down and tell me what you have to say,” Doc said as he motioned us back to the sofa.
“Doc I’m really very sorry for my daughter’s inappropriate bush behaviour towards your son. She didn’t …” my mom began.
“Woman, you said to let sleeping dogs lie so just cut the carp and let me know if there’s any other reason why I should listen to you”, Doc said as he glanced through the pages of his newspaper.
I pinched my mom as a sign for her not to talk but she eyed me and rolled out her request to Doc and she concluded by pushing my admission letter upside down onto his lap.
After she finished, the man looked at my mom, then at me, back at my mom, at the admission letter on his lap, then at the ceiling and the finally at his newspaper. He stood up, folded the newspaper and dropped it on the coffee table and said flatly, before heading for the stairs,
“I’m truly sorry but I can’t help you and your insolent daughter. There is the exit.”
As we walked towards the door, I felt so many things all at once. I felt like walking back and strangling him, like making him apologize to my mom for the tears she cried. I felt like undoing my mom’s tears and the kneeling part too. I felt like moving back in time and saying yes to everything Kofi said or was about saying last night. I wished the earth would open up and swallow us. I felt I would never like any man again.
by a twist of luck and I believe my mom’s prayers, the local church bore the rest of the cost and as I arrived on the Modeco campus, my first promise was to myself, and it was never to look twice at any guy, let alone to stop and have a chat with him.
As expected, I had a lot of “dogs” chasing me and not to brag but charley they were countless. For which guy in the right state of mind wouldn’t like to be associated with a light skin African woman with well carved out hips supported by equally slender looking calves? And one who kept her natural, afro kinky hair? Oh I enjoyed the chase, from colleagues, seniors and even lecturers and other College Workers but did I have time for the? In my opinion, they are all the same and would end up disappointing you. I joined one of the Christian groups and served diligently on the ushering team.
One day, somewhere in the second semester of my third year, when I walked our patron to her waiting car after evening service, I noticed that it was one of my lecturers picking her up. He said hi as he pulled out of the parking lot. The following week after our lesson with Prof. Adanuty, he asked me to take his books to his car which I did and that became a set routine for the weeks to come.
On my third trip to his car, he asked for my phone number and I gave it out without hesitation, after all, he was my patron’s friend and not any other guy. We started chatting frequently on whatsapp, exchanging motivational messages, jokes and funny videos. He also advised me frequently to concentrate more on my studies so that I could finish with my first class grade.
Occasionally too, he would buy me a bag of rice or press some cedi notes into my palm after a handshake. I really cherished this association so much that when the time came for us to choose supervisors for our final year project work, I just had to ask Prof. once and he agreed to help me out.
Work began briskly on the project work the following semester and three weeks to the submission of the final work, we were already through with mine. So great was Prof’s support that he offered to bear the cost of binding my final work and burning it onto a CD. By this time too, our relationship was on a different level where we no longer exchanged funny videos and jokes but rather we now exchanged sexually arousing pictures, romantic messages and even pornographic videos. How??… Well, it all started when Prof started sending me flattering and detailed messages about how beautiful I was. I liked it and also followed it up with equally flattering remarks and on and on and we are now here. But you should know that there is absolutely no form of physical contact between us. After all, this is the least I can do for someone who has helped me this much.
About a week to the deadline for the submission of our project works, Prof called me to meet up at his office on Friday at 5pm for my final work. I met his absence when I got there at 5:15pm. I called him and he said he just left the office to attend to a pressing need at home. He asked me to wait at the lobby for him and I sat there till 6pm. I called to inform him that I’ll come for it the following Monday and submit it to the Faculty Dean. He replied that he was on his way and that he was coming purposely because of me so I had to wait for him. At 6:45pm, his car pulled up at the parking lot and I rushed to take his briefcase and lead him to his office. Inside, he offered me a seat and water and after the normal pleasantries, he opened his briefcase and brought out my work. He handed it in my direction but as I gestured to take it, he pulled it back and put it back in his briefcase. I asked him jokingly is he was going to dash me the briefcase too and he was like
“If you so wish but first you must know that last night’s chat really made me horny and I still am. Can I take a bite of your sweet tenderness?”
“But Prof it was just a chat”, I replied.
“It was but the truth is, every one of those chats arouse the lion in me to roar for a feel of the real deal”, he said as he rose and walked towards the sofa on which I sat.
I stood up and motioned towards the door but he was faster. He locked the door and tossed the key onto his table.
“But Prof I…I…I…You said it…it…it…”, I stammered
“Yes I did but your project deadline is just a few days away and need I remind you that I’m the only with both the soft and hard copies of your work? So if you want to be stubborn, suit yourself but anyway, I hate stubborn girls,” he hissed as he pushed me back onto the sofa.
“Sir please I beg…” was all my brain could conjure at that moment and I silently cursed the sound proof walls of the Office Complex.
“Oh how cute. You beg? And you’re calling me Sir ow? What happened to Baby? Honeypie?? Booboo??? I’d prefer one of those now Baby…”, he whispered as he undid his belt and lowered his trousers. I got up, determined to fight with all my strength to protect my most treasured virginity. I tried but he was stronger so as he struggled to loosen my underwear, I suddenly felt him enter me and I cried from the pain of first entry and wept for the much worse pain I felt in my heart as a throb to the beat of his fast motion in and out of me. At a point, he became tense and I could feel him releasing his hardness into me as he held me tightly and jerked a few times.
He got up, wiped the sweat off his face and neck and threw at me my undies first, and then my bound project work. I was so infuriated and sad that I couldn’t wear my undies. I just threw them into my bag and without another word, I walked past him through the door and left him still standing there.
When I got back to my room, I wanted to talk to someone but who? I was even afraid to open up to even Ijeoma, my crazy but frank Nigerian friend with whom I shared all my secrets. I decided to keep everything to myself and so after a warm bath, I laid on my bed on the top bunk and cried myself to sleep.
The next day, I got down only to bath and urinate. On Sunday, I wanted to skip church but as Chief Usher, I just couldn’t. I went to church but left the job to the enthusiastic first years while I sat at the back and looked on absent mindedly. Everyone wanted to know what was wrong with me and I just had to borrow the malaria lie. Miss Akweley offered to drive me to the hostel and on the way, I confided in her as a patron and big sister and poured out everything to her. She was more than shocked and she promised to help bring Prof. Adanuty to book.
Miss Akweley took me to the hospital first thing after I submitted my project work on Monday. She then drove me straight to the College Chaplain who also directed us to the Registrar. From his office, the Registrar also redirected us to the Pro Vice-Chancellor who, after listening to us asked us to come back on Wednesday.
On the appointed day, we went to the office of the Pro VC and there sat Prof and another elderly lady I was to later know as the College Solicitor. The Pro VC summoned us and I was made to retell my story. Prof was also asked to defend himself and oh what proof that men are snakes. At the end of his version, I was declared guilty because Prof showed them the numerous messages from me to him, starting from my insistence that he supervise my work to the romantic chats and pornographic videos, with his replies expertly deleted from our chat.
I had nothing to disprove his claim since he always encouraged me to delete our chats because he didn’t want my friends to see it and think I was a spoilt brat. He went on to claim that he had never touched me beyond a handshake and reasserted his status as a responsibly married man who would not even dream of leaving his adorable wife for anyone, much less a student I was guilty of the following charges – engaging in an attempt to tarnish the image and status of a Senior Member of the college, bearing false witness against a Senior Member and finally sexually harassing the same Senior Member – and my penalty? Outright dismissal.
The others were dismissed from the office but I was made to wait at the reception for my dismissal letter. As Miss Akweley passed by me as I sat at the reception, I saw pure disappointed in her eyes and as I attempted to say something to prove my innocence, she rushed past, calling Prof to wait, obviously for an apology.
So even now my troubles continue because as I sit behind my mother’s table, patiently waiting for the school children to go on break, I’m still contemplating how to tell my poor mom to stop her frantic preparation and announcement of my graduation ceremony next month because she thinks I’ll be graduating. I’m also thinking of how to tell her that I’ve also not seen blood for the past three months. Where do I start from and how do I end?
