8 years ago
Friday, August 9, 2013
How i was Molested - Rapper, Eva Alordiah Reveals
Rapper, Eva Alordiah, in a recent interview revealed how she was molested at the tender age of 6, read her story below.
It is some months before August, the dates running all the way back into the calendars of the early 90s.
In a few months from this day, she will turn 7 years old, maybe even have a big school party like her friend Aisha had weeks back. But today, while she's still 6 years old and counting, he will satisfy the incessant needs.
He will have her to himself and make her feel like he was right and she was wrong to refuse him.
So he towers his tall lean frame above her, looking down on her as he intimidates her with his size. She's scared, confused and lost all at the same time.
'This is Uncle Emeka,' she reminds her poor little head. 'Uncle'.
Not by blood or family ties, no. But Uncle, cause he is friends with Dad and Mom. He picks her up from the floor and props her on his chest, all the time saying, "You know I'd buy you some more Biscuit when I come tomorrow eh? Did you like the ones I brought today?" She nods. Barely knowing what else to do but nod in fear.
Not too far off from the house just outside, she can hear her brothers playing in the yard.
The maid is out on an errand and she is here by herself... With Uncle Emeka, who said he had come to see Mommy. She feels his finger as they begin to find room big enough to fit, in the wells beyond the cotton lining of her baby panties.
She yelps in pain. He closes her mouth with his, swallowing her screams down his throat as he kisses her without shame, his finger still gliding in and out of her. It is painful. It burns like hot coals of fire. She lets the tears roll.
He tells her it is right. "Am I not your best Uncle?" he asks with a smile that curves his bushy moustache into an awkward arch.
She nods. She was only 6 years old. But this was to happen again three more times before her 7th birthday, each occurrence bringing with it several wraps of snacks and candies. "Don't ever tell your Mommy," he'd say.
"She'd beat you very hard. Do you want her to do that?"
To every parent out there, I implore you please, guard your beautiful children under your wings like the mother hen.
You might not be able to do that 24/7 because you must go out to work and fend for them, but you must, I beg of you, be ready to ask and be there to listen. I am here.
You are there, reading this. I don't know what you have been through, but I have talked to a great many people who were molested as kids.
Boys, Girls. So I do know that I am not here alone, and you aren't either.
What I went through was disgusting, but it propelled me daily to where I am now.
I am not traumatized anymore. I did not let this consume me. I am asking you now not to let it consume you.
We sometimes think everyone else is perfect until we hear their stories. I have no idea what yours is, but this is mine. This is not something I'd ever wish on any child.
It is not anything to be happy about. I was molested, I am not proud about it, I am proud that I rose above. She concluded.
It is some months before August, the dates running all the way back into the calendars of the early 90s.
In a few months from this day, she will turn 7 years old, maybe even have a big school party like her friend Aisha had weeks back. But today, while she's still 6 years old and counting, he will satisfy the incessant needs.
He will have her to himself and make her feel like he was right and she was wrong to refuse him.
So he towers his tall lean frame above her, looking down on her as he intimidates her with his size. She's scared, confused and lost all at the same time.
'This is Uncle Emeka,' she reminds her poor little head. 'Uncle'.
Not by blood or family ties, no. But Uncle, cause he is friends with Dad and Mom. He picks her up from the floor and props her on his chest, all the time saying, "You know I'd buy you some more Biscuit when I come tomorrow eh? Did you like the ones I brought today?" She nods. Barely knowing what else to do but nod in fear.
Not too far off from the house just outside, she can hear her brothers playing in the yard.
The maid is out on an errand and she is here by herself... With Uncle Emeka, who said he had come to see Mommy. She feels his finger as they begin to find room big enough to fit, in the wells beyond the cotton lining of her baby panties.
She yelps in pain. He closes her mouth with his, swallowing her screams down his throat as he kisses her without shame, his finger still gliding in and out of her. It is painful. It burns like hot coals of fire. She lets the tears roll.
He tells her it is right. "Am I not your best Uncle?" he asks with a smile that curves his bushy moustache into an awkward arch.
She nods. She was only 6 years old. But this was to happen again three more times before her 7th birthday, each occurrence bringing with it several wraps of snacks and candies. "Don't ever tell your Mommy," he'd say.
"She'd beat you very hard. Do you want her to do that?"
To every parent out there, I implore you please, guard your beautiful children under your wings like the mother hen.
You might not be able to do that 24/7 because you must go out to work and fend for them, but you must, I beg of you, be ready to ask and be there to listen. I am here.
You are there, reading this. I don't know what you have been through, but I have talked to a great many people who were molested as kids.
Boys, Girls. So I do know that I am not here alone, and you aren't either.
What I went through was disgusting, but it propelled me daily to where I am now.
I am not traumatized anymore. I did not let this consume me. I am asking you now not to let it consume you.
We sometimes think everyone else is perfect until we hear their stories. I have no idea what yours is, but this is mine. This is not something I'd ever wish on any child.
It is not anything to be happy about. I was molested, I am not proud about it, I am proud that I rose above. She concluded.
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