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Nigeria's leading fictional story blog - sex, young girls, breasts, village, young men, gods, kindred, pregnant, brother, mother, baby, native doctor, incest.


My name is Joy Opara and I am 43 years old. My life is wrapped up with layers of horrifying tales. I have been married for twenty years without a child. I grew up in a home where dark magic and voodoo were accepted and practiced with excitement. In my home town there are many taboos which we are told that when broken there are usually dire consequences. Some of them are incest and attacking a nursing mother. I am guilty of violating both of them. However, the consequences of breaking them are not the only reasons my life strikes close resemblance with a page taken from the annals of hell; there are more dark tales about me.

Like many young girls, one of my fantasies while growing up was sex. With my hips sprouting and our breasts shooting out, I felt I had arrived. Finally, Ii was a women. Like many of my friends in the village then, I could not wait for men to touch my sacred private parts, especially my brand new pair of breasts. Sex between men and women of my village was a big sin. We were made to understand it was incest. According to our elders, we all have the same forebear who settled in our village a long time ago and gave birth to all the kindred families making up our village. Even as a foreigner in my village, this would not be hard for you to see the first time you come. If a young man was caught with a young woman in the act of sex, there were rituals and punishments which must be performed to rid the anger of the gods from the offenders and from our people. The man and woman in question would be taken to our ancestral shrine, stripped naked and covered with red ants. The red ants would bite them to stupor in full glare of the villagers. After that, certain rituals would follow to appease the gods.

The above punishment and embarrassment could not stop me and my friends from flirting with boys. We found ways to beat being caught. Going to the stream and wandering the bush to fetch fire woods provided the perfect moments to experiment with boys who were as well wondering what to do with their sex drives. For fear of getting pregnant, we would let the boys touch us indecently while we gladly played along with them. If I knew I was setting myself up for an embrace with lifelong pain and sorrow, I would not have let my escapades get as far as they did eventually. With time we felt that there was possibly no harm to having sex with our kindred brothers. Why have a pair of brand new, shiny breasts and a constantly scratchy bottom, when you can’t let men put them to some pleasurable use? We thought. And so we decided to let them take our virginity from us, and after that, there was no stopping us. However, we all sadly found out later that the elders only told us half the truth - Kindred incest was a sin visited with grave curses.

I could not tell my mother that I was having sex constantly with my kindred brothers when we went to the stream or to fetch firewood. However, an event happened which caused me to open up to her. An older, rich, kindred brother of mine had made sexual advances to me and I was all too glad to take it, I wanted sex with an older man. After rounds of sex with him, he gave me the amount of money I had not seen in my life at that age. I knew there was no way I could hide that amount of money from my mother. I had to tell her who gave me the money and what I did with him. I was expecting my mother to raise a cry and invite the whole village to hear the taboo I had committed. To my dismay, she did not. Rather, she took me into her room, took the money from me and told me she would take me to Mbaise for a native doctor to perform a ritual on me.

The ritual was to make sure that I could have as much sex as I wanted with this rich brother of mine without getting pregnant for him. My mother wanted the money from my rich kindred brother coming in and was willing to use me as her cash cow. The ritual in my native tongue is called ikebi ukwu (to tie off a waist). In Mbaise, right while I watched, the native doctor tied a rope made from plantain stem around my naked waist and began to make incantations. While he made the incantations, the rope disappeared into my body. I was shocked and thrilled at the same time. Voodoo at this stage of my life was not new. We were brought up with it. We went to school with charms in our mouths to control teachers and friends. We fought our uncle’s wife with charms and helped our mother bury charms in her enemies’ farms. Before I turned twelve years old, I had experienced voodoo in various ways. My parents trusted voodoo and displayed them before us like the way parents take their children to church. At a tender age, I knew charms which could cause a person Elephantiasis, barrenness, blindness and the ones which could strike with immediate death.

Like I said, I wasn’t entirely surprised by the rope disappearing into my body. I was however happy that I could have sex with anyone I wanted without getting pregnant. When we came back, my mother warned me not to tell anyone what we had done. I wasn’t going to tell anyone even if she had not warned. Sex in with any person of the opposite sex in my village was a big taboo. My rich kindred brother had certain times when he would come back to the village from the city where he lived. Whenever he was around, he would send for me. You would know he was around by how much my mother would begin to spend and how much troubles she would begin to make in the family and with our neighbours. Every moment this brother of mine had sex with me, he would give me shocking amount of money. I would give them to my mother for safekeeping. I was young and na├»ve. I did not suspect anything and neither did my mother. Greed did not allow her to.

It wasn’t too long before our escapades began to give us signs that all that glitters is not gold. Rumours had begun to make rounds in the village that this very brother of mine was into ritual practices. The rumours had it that ladies from our village whom he had slept with in the past could not get pregnant no matter how much they tried and where they went to for help. It was said of him that he took their wombs through sex. I and my mother did not bother about the rumours. We knew as much voodoo as he possibly could. I continued to have sex with him without a care in the world. While I was in the act of incestuous relationship with him, I violated another taboo. My mother happened to be my father’s second wife. His first wife died and he took my mother as a second wife. As is the case in most polygamous families, everything from the first wife was considered evil by my mother. And as her children, we saw our three half-brothers and only half-sister as enemies. So when Michael, my father’s first son from his first wife married and his wife put to bed, I saw an opportunity to make her realize she was not welcome to our family.

I will never forget that day till I die. I had returned home from the market and met her bathing her new born baby. I hated her and her ugly newborn baby. I made a nasty comment about the baby and my half-brother’s wife took offence and replied me with anger. I was stronger than she was and knew I could beat ten of her type at the same time. I attacked her while she was bathing her baby. She could not defend herself because she was more interested in protecting her baby. For failing to give me a good fight, I turned my anger on her baby’s feeding bottle, flask and the plastic bathing bowl and broke them to pieces with my legs, while heaping curses on my half-brother’s wife. She could see I was raving mad and that she was no match for me, so she decided to do what I thought was insignificant at that time. Holding her baby to her chest. she laid a curse on me. Her exact words were, “Joy, for what you have done to my baby care wares, you will never hold a baby of your own nor ever get pregnant in your life.”

I was not moved by her curse, instead I hissed and gave her a few rounds of slaps. Since that day, years have passed and I have been married for a little better than twenty years and I have not been pregnant for a single day. I have been taken to strange places by my mother and friends so I could have a baby, but all have failed to yield result. My mother before she died a year ago, took me back several times to the native doctor in Mbaise to undo the ikebi ukwu ritual. Each time we went to see the native doctor, he performed rituals and assured us that the ikebi ukwu ritual was no longer effective. However, I am still to get pregnant. Time is running out for me and I don’t know how long my husband can wait. In line with the rumours we heard years ago, all the women my kindred brother had sex with, are barren even till this very moment. I know all of the women, we were all slept with on the same bed. Not one of us has been able to have a child till the moment I penned these words.

Along with my husband, my mother while she was alive and other family members, we have gone to plead with my half-brother’s wife to forgive me for what I did to her and her baby care wares. I had to do that twice because the first time I was forceful and almost beat her up again. But after my pains continued, I had to go back to her in humility. This time, I made sure I bought those things I broke in double portions and added other things. She before everyone present, forgave me and prayed for me. However, I am still to get pregnant. There is yet another twist to my barrenness. A certain man, a native doctor, who now is deceased, went to our ancestral shrine and bought some power from the gods of our ancestors with the destiny of all the girl children born in my village from 1971 to 1973. If you look at my age, I fall into this category. As I write this story, all the girl children born in my village within the above period are in one mess or the other. Those of us who are married, do not have children, the ones who are not married are either living in some city with men who are not legally married to them or are suffering insanity back in my village. It is shocking, but believe me, this is my life story.

I have tried several churches for help but, so far I have not found one. You have to understand that the idea of finding help in the church is strange and alien to me. I grew up with my sisters and brothers learning voodoo. To get help from God, I need faith, but what I understand very well is voodoo. I was born in the midst of it. I am still learning how to pray and fast. There are many things I included in this story which you won’t read because would not let them be made public because they are in violation of their house style. Believe me, I have been through hell. Medical science on numerous occasions has said there is nothing wrong with me or my husband, but I still can’t have a baby. I wish I had a mother who brought me up in the fear of the Lord. I wish I had a father who feared God. On many occasions, I have been besieged with suicide thoughts. I need a baby and I need one fast. I would take back every wrong I done in the past just to have a baby. I will give everything to have a new life.

The above true life story was written by Joy Opara (actual name withheld) and was edited by editorial team. Joy’s story is one of the heart-melting, true life, tales we have had to publish. We know Joy in person and can relate to her plight. This woman needs your prayers and every piece of advice you can give her to overcome her pains.


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