MY LAST LETTER

LETTER TO MY DEAD WIFE My name is Samson, 37years old. I married my wife when I was 29, we were so much in love, but as you know, love sometimes fade, and when it does, nasty things happen, especially when either of the couple start looking outside for fulfilment and attention. I'm going to tell you the story of my life, and I pray it touches someone's live for the best. I wasn't lucky and I'm now living in regret, and I won't want that for any one. I left for work on November 22 2013, with the intention to call a spade a spade. When I got home that night as my wife served dinner, I held her hand and said, I’ve got something to tell you. She sat down and ate quietly. Again I observed the hurt in her eyes. Suddenly I didn’t know how to open my mouth. But I had to let her know what I was thinking. I let it out my mouth. "I want a divorce". I raised the topic calmly. She didn’t seem to be annoyed by my words, instead she asked me softly, why? I avoided her question. This made her angry. She threw away the cutlery and shouted at me, "You are not a man"! Well that's what I expected, and I was happy she yelled at me. That night, we didn’t talk to each other. She was weeping. I knew she wanted to find out what had happened to our marriage. But I could hardly give her a satisfactory answer; she had lost my heart to Susan. I didn’t love her anymore. I just pitied her! She is 32 and mother to our handsome and only son. Well I hope he get to understand my decision some day. With a deep sense of guilt, I really don't want hers to be like a typical Nigeria divorce where the woman gets to suffer, so I stated in a note to my lawyer that she should own one house, one car, and I open a boutique business for her . She glanced at it and then tore it into pieces. The woman who had spent ten years of her life including dating with me had become a stranger. I felt sorry for her wasted time, resources and energy but I could not take back what I had said for I loved susan so dearly. Finally she cried loudly in front of me, which was what I had expected to see. To me her cry was actually a kind of release. The idea of divorce which had obsessed me for several weeks seemed to be firmer and clearer now. The next day, I came back home very late and found her writing something at the table. I looked at the dinner, and I saw a plate of food covered, which I guess was mine, but I didn’t have supper that night, instead walk straight to sleep and fell asleep very fast because I was tired after an eventful day with Susan. When I woke up at the middle of the night, she was this time; at the table in the room writing. I just did not care so I turned over and was asleep again. In the morning she presented her divorce conditions: she didn’t want anything from me, but needed (1) A month’s notice before the divorce. She requested that in that one month we both struggle to live as normal a life as possible. Her reasons were simple: our son had his exams in a month’s time and she didn’t want to disrupt him with our broken marriage. This was agreeable to me. But she had something more, she asked me to recall how I had carried her into out bridal room on our wedding night. She requested that every day for the one month duration I should carry her out of our bedroom to the front door every morning. I thought she was going crazy. Just to make our last days together bearable I accepted her odd request. Although I would have prefer it rough, so as to make her forget about me easily. I told Susan about my wife’s divorce conditions, She laughed loudly and thought it was absurd. "No matter what tricks she applies, she has to face the divorce", she said scornfully. My wife and I hadn’t had any body contact since my divorce intention was explicitly expressed we slept on the big bed like strangers. So when I carried her out on the first day, we both appeared clumsy. Our son clapped behind us, daddy is carrying mummy in his arms. His words brought me a sense of pain. From the bedroom to the sitting room, then to the door, I walked over ten meters with her in my arms. She closed her eyes and said softly; "don’t tell our son about the divorce". I nodded, feeling somewhat upset. I put her down outside the door. She went and wait for a taxi to take her to work. I drove alone to the office. On the second day, both of us acted much more at ease. She leaned on my chest. I could smell the fragrance of her blouse. I realized that I hadn’t looked at this woman carefully for a long time. I realized she was not young any more. There were fine wrinkles on her face, her hair was graying! Our marriage had taken its toll on her. For a minute I wondered what I had done to her. On the fourth day, when I lifted her up, I felt a sense of intimacy returning. This was the woman who had given ten years of her life to me. On the fifth and sixth day, I realized that our sense of intimacy was growing again. I didn’t tell Susan about this. It became easier to carry her as the month slipped by. Perhaps the everyday workout made me stronger. She was choosing what to wear one morning. She tried on quite a few dresses but could not find a suitable one. Then she sighed, and said "all my dresses have grown bigger". I suddenly realized that she had grown so thin, that was the reason why I could carry her more easily. Suddenly it hit me… she had buried so much pain and bitterness in her heart. Subconsciously I reached out and touched her head. Our son came in at the moment and said, Dad, it’s time to carry mum out. To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day. But her much lighter weight made me sad. On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, I hadn’t noticed that our life lacked intimacy. I drove out, on my way to the office, I stop by at susan's house, jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind…I walked upstairs. Susan opened the door and I said to her, "Sorry, Susan, I do not want the divorce anymore". She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead. "Do you have a fever"? She said. I moved her hand off my head. "Sorry, Susan, I said, I won’t divorce my wife". My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn’t value the details of our lives, not because we didn’t love each other anymore. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day I am supposed to hold her until death do us apart. Susan seems to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away. I stop at a boutic on the way, I ordered some new cloths, under wears, shoes and jwerries for my wife. The sales girl asked me, "newly married"? I smiled and say, "married again". When she was done packing the cloths, I ask for a special delivery to my house. I wanted to surprise her, so I wrote a note with the gift saying; "I’ll carry you out every morning until death do us apart". That evening I arrived home, with smiles on my face over my decision, I run up stairs, only to find my wife on the bed DEAD and it was then I was able to read the notes she was writing that night. My wife had been fighting CANCER for months and I was so busy with Susan to even notice. She knew that she would die soon and she wanted to save me from any negative reaction and hatred from our son, in case we push through with the divorce. At least, in the eyes of our son I’m a loving husband. At the moment of writing this to you all, I still can't stop sobbing. The small details of your lives are what really matter in a relationship. It is not the mansion, the car, property, the money in the bank. All these things are good, but only create an environment conducive for happiness but cannot give happiness in themselves. So find time to be your spouse’s friend and do those little things for each other that build intimacy. If you are not in a relationship now, remember this for the second (or third) time around. It's never too late. Letter to my loving wife. Tosin. WRITTEN BY SIMPA SAINT SAMSONS

I RAPED HER

My name is Ene, from Benue state, I'm a 13-year-old girl. I'm now confined to a wheelchair after my 55-year-old father repeatedly raped me. At an early age, my dad and mum decided that they could no longer continue with their marriage, so they both went their separate ways. When it happened, my mum wanted to take all of us with her, but I refused to follow, I wanted to stay with my father, because he was so fond of me, and I also love him as a child will love the father. I'm the second girl of three that my parents gave birth to. I grew up knowing Dad's to be someone that protects and cares a great deal; but my own protector given to me by God became my tormentor. For a while, I hadn't been going to school, because my so called dad says he does not have money for my school fees, that I should wait for a new term. I agreed as the respectful child that I am, but while waiting, I engaged in going to the bush to cut down firewood and sell to make ends meet. I was helping out at home and also saving for my school. It all started one fateful morning, January 25 precisely when I was ready to go to the bush, my Dad asked me to stay back that I'm working myself out, he talked me into sitting on his thighs encouraging me and telling me that he would provide the money that I needed - that I should just give him a little time, he began to rub his palm on my back, which I thought was just an act of petting; after a while he touched my breasts and said "you are beginning to grow into a beautiful girl, it was becoming weird, but he is my father anyway, so I just kept quiet and a shying smile was written all over my face. He stood up carrying me up in his arm to the other room, and lay me on the bed flat. He saw a mark above my kneel cap, and asked me how I got myself injured like this, I replied "it was from one of my wood cutting". He then raised my skirt up to the point where he could see my pant and the shape of my private part, I said "Dad what's this?!" He said: "I want to check your body if there is any other injury". My father would later asked me to sleep on my chest. Before I knew what was happening, he gently removed my pants down. At this moment, it became so weird and frightening, and I said: "I don't have any injury. And as I was struggling, he ensured he overpowered me so I couldn't move a muscle. Immediately he took my pants off, I pushed my skirt down, wanting to dash out of the room, but he stood by the door and locked it. I cried out loud: "Daddy please" and he shouted: "keep quiet so that the neighbours won't hear you scream" before I could blink my eyes, my so-called dad had undressed himself right before me and walked towards me. I was terrified. I moved to one edge of the bed, and he got hold of my leg and drew me towards him, exposing my private. And he forced himself into me, de-flowering me. It was so disgusting, but no one to save me. After he was done, he stood up and go handed me a toilet roll to clean myself. I was still crying profusely, when he took the roll and started cleaning me up. So I collected it from him and clean myself. When I summoned the courage that I was going to report, I banged at the door severally, but he refuse to open the door. My Dad cooks and brings food for me. He will open the door, drop the food and lock it again. I became so afraid. Three days later, he came back again, this time making it the sixth time he will be raping me. When I saw him, I almost fainted. The first thing he said was "if you ever tell anyone about us, you will die" and apart from that, that I should imagine the shame. This time I knew I had no option, so I allowed him come into me freely. My mum was always coming around, She was expecting me to visit her this time and it was two weeks past our agreed day of visit, and she was worried and decided to come to the house. Luckily for me, he was not at home. So as soon as I heard my mum's voice, I screamed and begged her to help me. She broke the door down, and came to me. She took me away as I struggled to walk properly so she carried me all the way. I narrated the whole story to her. I was still bleeding but little did I know that I'd sustained a life threatening injury. After test was conducted on me, I was told that I have been confined to the wheel chair as I could no longer walk for now. I am also suffering from urinary incontinence since the incident took place now. My Dad is at large, and my Mum has no money to take me to see a specialist as recommended by the medical doctor. I believe if my parents were still together, the incident wouldn't have happened. I pray my Dad gets caught and thrown behind bars for life. I'm crying silently from my wheel chair, but I had to take out time to tell my story, so that teenagers should be able to draw the line whenever they discover that their Dad, Uncle, Brother, or Neighbour is touching them where they are not supposed to. WRITTEN BY SIMPA SAINT SAMSONS

THE CRY OF A NIGERIAN GAY

When I had my first girlfriend at age 18, it was the most perfect thing, we were so much in love, I was ready to give her everything she need except one thing she most crave for, which is sex. When ever she forces me to kiss her, I feel weird, cos I don't like it. Initially I thought it was a normal thing, saying to myself that "I'm not ready", but my total thinking change for the worst when I lost interest in the opposite sex and crave for my own kind. In my second year in college, I saw the new guy that was transfer to our school. My first eye contact on him was like; "that of a lady that just finish making sweet love for the very first time". I walk up to him after 2weeks of his arrival to be friend with him, He took it normally, but I discover I was always wanting to be around him even though we were in different class. I spend all my spare time with him talking and having fun, until the day we were together on a saturday when I went to his house for a visit, and he took me into his room, while playing, he said he want to pee, that I should come see something that he will do. We went into the toilet, he unzip, and I watch him as he play with his pee, raising his cute penis up when, he was done washing his hands, he turn towards me, hold my face with his two hand and said "please don't get mad with what I'm about to do" he place his lips on mine and started kissing me. We kissed for 2minute, and all through, I did not let go. For the first time, though weird to me but I just love it. We went on for months, doing that in secret, all the girls in our lives where so mad that both of us are too proud like we were the most cute guys on planet earth. It went on for years we got admitted to the same university, staying together now was cool, not until recently that the law against gay right in nigeria was ban. Homosexuals in Nigeria have continued to suffer discrimination and brutality which escalated following the criminalisation of same sex relationships. One faithful day while we were in our room in school sleeping in Port Harcourt, the capital of Rivers, we heard noise outside our front pouch, and a heavy random knock on our front door, we open, and lo and behold, we saw a mob of people. While we were still trying to come to reality of what's happening, Stone and object was thrown at us at random interval, and four guys dragged us outside into the midst of the mob. We were tortured like criminals. Siting in the midst of the mob, we were just like a "lamb sent to the slaughter house" we were allegedly forced to make love in public while residents watched and filmed the act with there camera phones and other gadgets. This incident occurred on the 28 of January 2014. We were forced out of our home and they made us make love while being filmed on camera phones. The security personnel that were suppose to protect us so that we don't get beating to pup or killed before being taken to the police station for our "so called sin" were jeering on the explicit video as they make us masturbate each other and then have anal sex outside. A large crowd of onlookers gathered to watch us get humiliated. After we had sex, they started beating us, tyre was thrown around our necks, and I said something to my self at that moment. "My end has come" with blood gushing from my friends head, all I could see was object flying from above and landing on either my body or his body. We cried for help, but our voice was overcrowded by the mob, and nobody was ready to even listen to us. Rope was tied on our private part, and drawn to drag us on the ground from our compound to the road side far away from where we could get help. It was hell on earth. At that moment my wish was for the ground to open and swallow me, I pleaded for death, but none of that happen. After being beaten for over an hour, we became so tired and helpless, batted with our own blood and tears, I lay lifeless. I look to the sky ones and say "God you are watching this" I never made myself a gay, I don't know why you made me this way. I remember a portion in the bible that says we were created in God's image, what I don't understand was why am I the way I am. That was all I could remember until when I gain consciousness and open my eyes at about 4:00am or there about the following morning, I turn my head to my right and left, looking for my friend, I couldn't see him, I struggled to stand up gently on my kneels with pains all over my body, I dragged my self on the mare floor looking for him. I saw an object far away, I crawl towards it and find my friend lying lifeless there. Placed my ear on his chest to listen to his heart beat, but he was as cold as a frozen food. His body was all out of place, every part of him difigured I could hardly recognise him. I cried and when the day was getting brighter, I struggle to drag myself into a nearby bush, where I hid for four days without food and water. How I survive those horrible hours and days of my life is still a mystery. I was able to gain my strength to run away from that town. I heard the footage was shared on social media. I did not make myself to be gay. Wish I could be normal. I was born this way. Why I survived that day is still a mystery. God should have just allow me die, there by granting the evil wish of the angry mob over what I never made myself to be. I will ask God if he made me like this when I finally see him. To my friend, brother and love DAN. I will always love you for the end of time. WE NEVER MADE OUR SELF GAY. WRITTEN BY SIMPA SAINT SAMSONS

A must read.... A true life story ROUGH EDGE TO GOOD LIFE

Two things make someone tell their story. Either regret or happy ending mine happen to be both. It all started some 25years ago in the rough street of Lagos, after I lost my both parent to a motor accident. My world came crumbling down. They were my all, I never lack and never beg, so leaving that height to the lowest point was something no one will wish to pass through. I started eating from hand to mouth, eating from the waste bin of other people, and begging on the street. Life was not easy, I had to put up with fight, injuries and rape so as to stay alive and get shelter over my head. I was raped four times on the street on different occasion. One particular time, I was raped by six area boys. The most horrific scene in my life. After years of being a street kid, I eventually ended up as a club dancer. Well dancing was one talent God gave me, the unfortunate thing was that I had to use it to put food on my table the wrong way. Dancing in the club, came with me sleeping with some rich guys in order to earn more money to sustain my life. Abortion was like a regular thing for me, because I can't get pregnant except I don't want to eat. A colleague of mine introduced me to drugs, so I became addicted, and this drug don't come cheap at all. I spent most of my income on drugs and alcohol, engaged in gambling. I became addicted to all this things. I was a junkie, well that's the world I find myself. No one is ready to give you anything for free, so I make the money the only way I knew. One evening after the show at the bar, i met a business man from South Africa, he wanted sex, so I charged him heavily, so he paid me for a night stand, we went to his room, he took his bath, I took mine, and left the bathroom naked, walked towards him to start, he refuse and ask me to but on my cloth and sleep that he is tired. I told him: "sir, there are no refunds, you paid for my service, so this is me, cos ones it day break, your time expire" he said "no problem" and he still refused to touch me and we had no sex throughout, i asked, he said; i should be a housewife of a good man, and not a Prostitute, i couldn't help it, I explained to him that no man can marry me at 34 years of age with all my addiction and problems, he calmed me down and was sincere with me while sharing his past too, i thanked him and he gave me his complimentary card to call him. And three days later, he found his way to my living house and said he will like to marry me, he was with me throughout that day, he still insisted on not touching me, and that was the only way I think I could thank him for everything. He first took me to a rehabilitation home, I got myself cleaned up, then to a shrink. After six months of rehabilitation, now we are planning for a better future. This is my testimony, i believe in God the more since this incident. If the Lord can still look down to me and show me mercy, upon my atrocities and dirty ways, well I guess he still consider me worthy. I engaged in smoking, hustling, gambling and countless abortions in the past. I got a second chance to life at age 34 and a better future after God save my life. Well, will I say that I'm a lucky one, all the girls I started with, some ended up in the hands of ritual, some died of disease, some with tumour, but I never had any of those not even HIV. Well that's my story. Happy ending with past regret, but I'm happy now. I'm much at ease after shearing my story. WRITEN BY SIMPA S SAMSONS.