This
is for identity reason, as I have been warned not to disclose this. I
also know that NAPTIP or how do they call them, will come after me.
I
need to avoid this. I’m not educated, but I have to trust someone to
write this piece for me for your newspaper. At least I can read, so I
can monitor all the comments that will pour in as a result of my
distasteful act.
I’m ready to receive any kind of insult, and possibly commit suicide if…
This
is not fictitious. I confess with tears streaming from my eyes. Do not
pity me. I don’t pity myself. I consider myself a greedy fool who
doesn’t even deserve to live for just another day.
Permit
me to tell you how it all started. I had a child out of wedlock. I
couldn’t have taken the child to any particular man because none was
going to accept him either.
This
is because of the kind of life I have lived as a young girl of 24.
Quite frankly, I was a LovePeddler. I can’t tell who the father of my
baby is, even as I make this confession. I decided to keep the child
just to avoid all the embarrassment associated with this.
I live in the East. It is difficult to survive down here, considering that I also had a baby to care for. My baby was just 9 months when it all happened. I was fed up with life, and I told one of my friends that I was ready to sell my baby to survive so long as I know he would be safe.
I live in the East. It is difficult to survive down here, considering that I also had a baby to care for. My baby was just 9 months when it all happened. I was fed up with life, and I told one of my friends that I was ready to sell my baby to survive so long as I know he would be safe.
She
passively laughed at my ignoble assertion. However, two weeks after we
discussed, some people called me from the North, that they would like to
meet me. I thought they were my usual customers, until I saw two men in
my small apartment three days later. T
hey
said they were informed that I was willing to sell my child. I asked
how they got to know, and they showed me their identity cards. They were
police officers and had been asked to do the transaction with me on
behalf of a man whose identity they kept secret.
At
first, I was scared. And I told them angrily that I was not that kind
of person. They were so persistent that they even showed me the cheque
signed by one of the officers. I ordered them out of my room and they
left that day.
I
thought they would be calling me to bother me, but they didn’t. I was
full of regrets. I was caught in between constant thought of the money
and the adverse effect of losing my child to a total stranger. Different
ideas were circling in my head, until I took one last decision.
I
picked up my phone after three days of my meeting with the police
officers and I asked them to come down as I had accepted to do the
transaction. They had warned me that it won’t be very funny if at the
end I still go ahead to treat them the way they were treated the last
time they came; but I assured them of my total cooperation.
They
came again the next day. I was sobbing when they walked in. Yes, I was
crying for my child because I knew that after that day, I won’t see him
again. They came in a police van, apparently to take my child away with
it.
They
said the Alhaji who wanted the child was waiting. I asked whether my
child was going to be killed. They took pity on me and told me that the
man who wanted the child never had a child, and that had occasioned
their trip down to the East in search of a child.
They
assured me that nothing was going to happen to the child, but that I
should take my mind off my baby, as I was never going to see him again.
They said that after the payment had been made, the child would cease to
be mine.
I
wept as I handed over my child to one of them who sat at the back of
the van. We drove to one of the banks where the transaction took place.
Sincerely, my account was credited and they left. Ten minutes after
their departure, I collapsed in the bank premises in tears, leaving many
people to wonder what could be wrong with me.
I called them to return my child but they said it was too late.
The
painful aspect of my trouble is that I didn’t use the money to do any
reasonable thing. As I speak to you, my account has gone down, and I
can’t really point to any reasonable thing I have done with the money,
apart from the car that I bought few months after the incident.
People around me don’t know what happened to my child as I keep telling them that my baby is with my mum in the village.
I’m
making this confession because I doubt if I may survive this CURSE I
have brought upon myself. The last cry of my baby re-echoes each time
I’m alone. I hear him cry into the silence of the night when I’m alone
in my room.
I
have not known peace since I sold my child. I have had accident up to
ten times since the fateful day. None of the accidents was unconnected
to absence minded.
The
guilt continues to live in me. Now, I’m contemplating suicide. All I
want is your advice as I find very useful comments on this site each
time I log in with my phone.
I
hardly make comments but I read your confession segment a lot. I always
console myself with people who have big problems like me. Please tell
me what to do.
I
want to get my child back, but I don’t even have a clue on what to do. I
don’t even know exactly where my child is now. I think I have been so
foolish. Don’t feel any remorse for me. Give me the best advice –
exactly what you would tell your sister if she found herself in my
shoes.
Thank you!
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