SAD STORY: A Girl's Terrifying Encounter With A Rapist Who Changed His Mind

After completing my secondary school education, I travelled to Nairobi just like any other village girl who travels to the big city to live with a relative. I must admit that I am blessed because of the many relatives I have in Nairobi. I was spoilt for choice.
I kept hoping from one house to another having the time of my life throughout the December holidays. It was all fun until January came and everyone went back to school and work except me. I was living in a huge maisonette in upmarket Nairobi, straight from the innermost part of Budalangi where mosquitoes bite day and night and have mastered the art of squeezing through the tiny holes in a mosquito net. Yes! That is how useless mosquito nets have become in my home area!
Of course this maisonette was not my father’s. He retired before he could turn his dreams into a home in Nairobi. The nice home belonged to my beloved aunty who loved me from here all the way to her duodenum past her right ventricle to her small intestines and back to her oesophagus when she breathes out.
That morning, everyone left the house either for school or work. I was left with the gardener Ouma who had been friendly all through the festive season. You should have seen me going up and down the staircase imitating the Kardashians in their posh homes. I kept pushing my imaginary long hair from my face and fed on imaginary ice cream as I held the remote control switching from one channel to another. I had the huge house all to myself until evening. It was my time to ‘eat’!
Ouma lived in the servants’ quarters and we only met when I was giving him his meals or when we were both basking in the sun. That day I was too ‘Kardashian’ to bask in the sun, mine was to lift my legs, put them on the table as I built castles in the air. I played Kardashian for too long that I even forgot to look at the time. I was jolted back to reality by a frantic knock on the door. It was Ouma, he came to announce his hunger since it was lunch hour.

Making lunch for Ouma

After I apologized for the lateness, I made him a quick meal and took it to him. I was standing near the main door shouting his name when he appeared looking confused. At first, I thought it was due to hunger, but then I realized he was just standing there next to me staring at my chest. It then hit me that hell was about to break lose. I quickly made an about turn and leaped inside the house with him in hot pursuit.
I threw the food in the air and cruised up the staircase, I could hear his steps getting closer. I managed to enter my room and locked the door before he caught up with me.
He then started banging the door frantically as he begged me to open saying he only wanted us to talk. Talk? That is how a red-blooded man runs after a girl when he wants to talk to her? Talk with your mouth or something else? I was scared and shaking like a mouse! I tried squeezing myself through the window to safety. I was ready to break a leg as I fell from the first floor than ‘talk’ to Ouma. That’s the day I wished I was a mosquito from Budalangi! I missed how they managed to squeeze through the holes in the net.
After realizing I was never going to fit through the window grills, I sat on my bed and started reciting the Rosary even though I knew nothing about it considering I am not even a Catholic. The all went quiet. I wondered what Ouma was up to. I tiptoed to the door and peeped through the keyhole. At first I thought I was still daydreaming in the Kardashian world. He was near the staircase stark naked moon walking like Michael Jackson as if preparing for a marathon!  I was never going to be his racing track! Over my dead body. I reached for a cloth hunger in the closet as my weapon and waited for his next move.
I missed my home. I missed my father. I missed my aunt’s duodenum. I missed the security back in school. This was going to be the worst welcome to life outside school. I swore to strangle him using the hunger if he dared lay his hands on me.
He remained in that state for an hour, gave up and left the house. I could see him head to his house still stark naked from the window. I figured out I could take off and head out the compound once he was in his house.
That must have been the worst move I made! I should have stayed in the house and locked it and waited for my aunty to return home in the evening. As I tried to escape, Ouma caught up with me and gave me the beating of my life using the same hanger I had planned to use as a weapon. Still in his birthday suit, he beat me like he was pounding dried maize cobs in a sack. I preferred the beating than being raped.
My prayers were answered even though I mumbled words I do not even know when reciting the Rosary. To this day, I never trust any man, not even the one who likes my status on Facebook! Better safe than sorry. I also figured out I can never be a Kardashian no matter how many staircases I went up and down swinging my imaginary hips and pushing my imaginary hair back.