Lola Opatayo

Creative Writing Resources, News and Tips.


Short Story
For all those who have been taken…
“You’re going to get yourself killed!”
“I can’t do this” Jemaima cried
“You have to! Look, it is either you die or you accept your fate”
“I’d rather die. I am a married woman, I have children, I am an usher in my church! I can not do this”
“Think of it this way, you’re staying alive for your family till help comes”
“Help? How long have you been here Adeezat?”
“Ten months” she replied
“And you say help is coming? Let me tell you what the reality is, it’s every man for himself out there. A few people are trying do something about this but really no one cares. The world has moved on. Help isn’t coming!”
Adeezat pondered this for a while, she was probably right but one couldn’t lose hope or face the gruesome death that awaited anyone who rebelled.
”They  will slit your throat” she said
“Then let them. I will never subject myself to this life”
A baby cried two rooms away; it was her son Mustapha. She had been abducted ten months ago along with some other teenage girls and women. The rebels had brought them into this big house where they had been kept in a room. They had all wept, consoled themselves and wept again till they came for them.
By nightfall they were distributed among the men and the best of them were reserved for the leader and his second-in-command. Those who had dared to resist had been beaten brutally and one of them strangled. The men were drunk and high on marijuana; they could not be appeased or reasoned with. She remembered Toyin the Yoruba girl who had taken her own life because she had lost the pregnancy she was carrying the night they were abducted.
Gradually they had settled into their new life as sex slaves. They cooked and cleaned during the day and surrendered themselves to the men’s passions at night. They offered no opinions, did not speak unless spoken to, took whatever was offered them and did their best to make the most of the situation. A few had tried to escape and were promptly executed.
They realized that they were also expected to get pregnant and have male children, and when she got pregnant and had Mustapha she was “honored” with the responsibility to prepare the new abductees for their new lives. Her heart broke today however, when she recognized her friend Jemaima who had lived on the same street with her. Not only was she sad that she was unfortunate to be in this horrid situation, she was also a reminder of home, who she was. She reminded her of the wedding she would have had two months after her abduction. She knew it would be difficult to accept this new life but the alternative was worse. It was getting dark and they would soon come for them. She tried to reason with her once more.
“Please reconsider my sister, stay alive for your family”
Jemaima gave her no response. She thought of her boys and her husband and her tears flowed freely, fear etched on her face. How could she accept this life? Yet she was very scared; these men were responsible for the death of thousands, how could she survive her planned course of action?
The door opened and they were taken out amidst screams and cries.
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