The Dark Diary - Part 1

This is the story of a woman trying to find closure from her dark and painful past...

 The Dark Diary is written by a Blog visitor and will be posted once a week.

This may open up wounds for others but the writer wants to heal with this...

 
''Growing up I always kept a diary, but it landed me in trouble because I wrote a lot of things I couldn’t tell people and somehow I didn’t hide it well.

I expressed myself more in my little books then burn it.

I remember when I was still dating my husband, he found my diary when he was waiting for me in my room at the hostel. Oh that man was pained and he cried. LOL

Thanks to technological advancement I am free to write and tell it all the way it really was or is... anonymously.

I grew up in a typical Naija home, full of kids and drama. My mother died early and my father was not hands on deck. To say the truth we were too much to handle.

Food was always available but you have to get to the kitchen early else, people that were not even living in the house ate it all. But, trust my step mother she always kept something for me the baby of the house.

My brothers had their friends over everyday watching Chinese films, playing cards ,snooker, drinking and smoking. My elder sister was always out partying with friends. So we were just three little girls running around playing and running errands for the ‘men’.

Women were always coming in and out of the house and my brothers’ room became a mini brothel with naked women posters hanging on the walls. Posters I was curious to peep it and understand at 10 years old.

They would write a list on a paper and fold then send us off. I was a curious child and I always opened to read- condom, cigarette. One time I was sent off to buy ‘’menstrogen’’ which was quite popular back then as after the ‘’do’’ pill.

They didn’t think it was child abuse and they didn’t even notice when the child started getting abused under their noses.

So I can beat my chest to tell you that, you can have big brothers and not have protection. 

The only protection I had was, no one dared beat me. But they didn’t tell them not to poke their hands in my private part...….