I reluctantly took my eyes away from my Jackie Collins novel as a plump woman with a toddler in her arms took the seat beside me in the crowded hospital waiting room. They were trailed by three others, two boys, one a teenager, the other about 9 years of age, and a little girl of about 7, a replica of the woman. I returned to my novel but again was interrupted as the woman called out to someone in Igbo. That was when I noticed her.
She must have been no older than 15. Tall, light skinned, skinny with hair cut very close to her scalp. Her cheeks were hollow and she had a vacant look in her wide-spaced eyes. Dressed in a faded denim skirt, a loose red t-shirt and only the barest suggestion of breasts, she was standing even though there was an empty seat just beside her. She came towards us and the woman handed the now restless toddler to her. I watched her curiously as she went out the front doors with the child. I lost myself in my novel again until I heard the doors swing open, followed by a faint thump, and then a shrill cry of pain. I looked up to see the little boy bawling with one hand to the back of his head. Apparently, he had hit his head on the door post as they came back in. The woman began to rain insults on the girl as she motioned to her to hand the child over. The frightened girl placed the screaming child in her arms and was moving away when the little girl suddenly leaned forward and smacked the right side of her face.
"Why did you hit my brother`s head?", she asked angrily with a frown on her plump face.
"Stupid girl". She added loudly as she rolled her eyes and then resumed playing with her doll.
The sound of the slap was as shocking as the act itself. The girl held her hand to her face and walked back silently to where she had been standing, the vacant look back in her eyes. Not a sound escaped from her and not a word from the woman who had just witnessed her 7 year old assault someone twice her age. That was when I took it upon myself to be advocate, judge and jury. Well, the woman and I spent the next few minutes till I was called in to see the doctor, exchanging opinions and some insults here and there on how kids should be raised and how not to treat someone else`s child just because they are unfortunate to be house girls.
Slavery is illegal in every country in the modern world, yet it still exists in various forms, from sexual slavery to debt bondage to systems of servitude. Domestic servitude which is prevalent in Nigeria involves young girls in most cases, and boys, some as young as 6 being employed to cook, care for children, garden, shop, run errands, fetch water, clean, and anything else that needs done, for a specified wage and period of time. Most of the time, there is no clear distinction between what they have been employed to do and what their employer requires of them. Eventually, the agreement evolves into a master/slave one. One would expect that such a situation can happen only where there are no blood ties, but, the reverse can be the case sometimes.
During my secondary school holidays, most afternoons were spent at my friend`s. Her neighbour was a couple with four kids, and living with them was the woman`s 13 year old niece, who had lost both parents at an early age. She never attended school, instead her days were spent cleaning, cooking, fetching water from a nearby tap and doing the laundry with her aunt`s baby strapped to her back. One afternoon, we found her weeping uncontrollably. She would not tell us what the problem was so we took her to my friend`s mother. We later found out that not only had her uncle been abusing her sexually since she was 8, she was now 4 months pregnant with his child. When the aunt was informed, all she had to say was "my husband cannot sleep with this smelly girl". Later that evening, we rushed out of the house to a commotion outside. The girl was writhing on the ground, stark naked, howling like a crazed animal, as her aunt flogged her mercilessly with a koboko and with the other hand poured freshly ground red pepper all over her eyes and body. We saw neither of them in the days that followed and when they finally resurfaced, the girl`s previously bulging stomach was as flat as a board. The last we heard of her was that she had been accused of trying to destroy her aunt`s marriage and for that reason taken to the village to live with her grandmother. I have always wondered what became of her.
It saddens me to see people mistreat those who depend on them for their daily sustenance. It takes nothing to show kindness yet it is an act alien to some of us. No one chooses to be so poor as to be at the mercy of others.
After all, na condition make crayfish bend.
She must have been no older than 15. Tall, light skinned, skinny with hair cut very close to her scalp. Her cheeks were hollow and she had a vacant look in her wide-spaced eyes. Dressed in a faded denim skirt, a loose red t-shirt and only the barest suggestion of breasts, she was standing even though there was an empty seat just beside her. She came towards us and the woman handed the now restless toddler to her. I watched her curiously as she went out the front doors with the child. I lost myself in my novel again until I heard the doors swing open, followed by a faint thump, and then a shrill cry of pain. I looked up to see the little boy bawling with one hand to the back of his head. Apparently, he had hit his head on the door post as they came back in. The woman began to rain insults on the girl as she motioned to her to hand the child over. The frightened girl placed the screaming child in her arms and was moving away when the little girl suddenly leaned forward and smacked the right side of her face.
"Why did you hit my brother`s head?", she asked angrily with a frown on her plump face.
"Stupid girl". She added loudly as she rolled her eyes and then resumed playing with her doll.
The sound of the slap was as shocking as the act itself. The girl held her hand to her face and walked back silently to where she had been standing, the vacant look back in her eyes. Not a sound escaped from her and not a word from the woman who had just witnessed her 7 year old assault someone twice her age. That was when I took it upon myself to be advocate, judge and jury. Well, the woman and I spent the next few minutes till I was called in to see the doctor, exchanging opinions and some insults here and there on how kids should be raised and how not to treat someone else`s child just because they are unfortunate to be house girls.
Slavery is illegal in every country in the modern world, yet it still exists in various forms, from sexual slavery to debt bondage to systems of servitude. Domestic servitude which is prevalent in Nigeria involves young girls in most cases, and boys, some as young as 6 being employed to cook, care for children, garden, shop, run errands, fetch water, clean, and anything else that needs done, for a specified wage and period of time. Most of the time, there is no clear distinction between what they have been employed to do and what their employer requires of them. Eventually, the agreement evolves into a master/slave one. One would expect that such a situation can happen only where there are no blood ties, but, the reverse can be the case sometimes.
During my secondary school holidays, most afternoons were spent at my friend`s. Her neighbour was a couple with four kids, and living with them was the woman`s 13 year old niece, who had lost both parents at an early age. She never attended school, instead her days were spent cleaning, cooking, fetching water from a nearby tap and doing the laundry with her aunt`s baby strapped to her back. One afternoon, we found her weeping uncontrollably. She would not tell us what the problem was so we took her to my friend`s mother. We later found out that not only had her uncle been abusing her sexually since she was 8, she was now 4 months pregnant with his child. When the aunt was informed, all she had to say was "my husband cannot sleep with this smelly girl". Later that evening, we rushed out of the house to a commotion outside. The girl was writhing on the ground, stark naked, howling like a crazed animal, as her aunt flogged her mercilessly with a koboko and with the other hand poured freshly ground red pepper all over her eyes and body. We saw neither of them in the days that followed and when they finally resurfaced, the girl`s previously bulging stomach was as flat as a board. The last we heard of her was that she had been accused of trying to destroy her aunt`s marriage and for that reason taken to the village to live with her grandmother. I have always wondered what became of her.
It saddens me to see people mistreat those who depend on them for their daily sustenance. It takes nothing to show kindness yet it is an act alien to some of us. No one chooses to be so poor as to be at the mercy of others.
After all, na condition make crayfish bend.
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