November 1988, I lost my parents, I became an orphan.

Left all alone with my younger brother, Stephan.

I was ten and he, seven.

We were two young children whose salvation lied in heaven.

Immediately my greedy uncles heard the news.

They came to our house and began a fuss.

They took all our property.

And left us in abject poverty.

For I and my little brother, those days seemed to last forever.

But at least we were together.

At a point in time we were so hungry and weak that we began to feel death hover.

Yet we still prayed that something would leave us in clover.

After a week God answered our prayers

By sending to us our distant uncle sayer

Who was rich and nice but lived in the North

A Muslim we knew, but that later on we would sort.

He asked us to come with him and we said yes!

We had no choice , in fact at the time we looked like a mess

On our way he told us we had to change our name

To avoid being caned or even worse maimed

So we did as he said

And had our names changed

We were so happy we didn't have to live with our poor neighbour Job

But little did we know we were about to understand the saying ' All that glitters is not gold '.

Two weeks after our arrival I began to question my uncle about resuming school.

He laughed a mocking laugh that made me look like a fool

Confused I asked "What did I do?"

He replied "You're a girl and here in the North , education is meant for boys, while marriage and child bearing are for girls."

Disheartened I went back to my room.

At this point I began to see my dream of becoming a journalist crumble

I could only cry and silently grumble

Nevertheless I was happy my brother was able to go to school

At least that alone made me keep my cool.

After some time my uncle married another wife.

Who had him under a spell strong enough to convince him to take his own life.

She began to abuse me both psychically and emotionally

From abusive words to beating me periodically.

I was depressed but I did well to hide it

At least my pain was the price I had to pay to enable my brother eat

He was the only family I had but that ended on October 14th 1991, when he went to the market.

And news got back to me that he kicked the bucket....

My pain knew no bounds

Here I was thinking he was safe and sound.

They said he stole from a man

Who was popularly called Sam

And using their stupid sharia law they cut off his right hand

And watched him bleed to death.

Now here's the tragedy.

My brother was innocent!

He was killed for a crime he didn't commit.

Why?, he was Igbo .

After his death my uncle joined his wife in abusing me

My eyes were so red from crying I could hardly see.

At some point they said I was a burden to them.

And with that they married me off...

26th wife to a man old enough to be my father!.

And his wives my supposed mothers.

A thirteen year old losing her virginity to an old toad.

Certainly I wouldn't believe this could happen to me if I was being told.

I was angry, abused, depressed and storpid.

What I felt towards the world was the opposite of the work of cupid

Everyday I would stare at the cuts and marks on my hand

Surely, I was insane and going out of my mind.

I decided to run away on the night of the full moon

And luckily if I was fast enough I'd reach home soon.

In my quest to escape I was caught by my 'alleged' husband.

We fought back and forth, I was weak but I couldn't give up.

Alas, it ended with him pouring acid on my leg.

And I smiling at him lying lifeless in the pool of his blood.

I made a clean escape and cued up in a line in the hospital.

By the time it got to my turn I was seeing things in multiple.

They signed me up for a scan.

And there I found out I lost my womb.

13 and with no womb!

Perhaps I'd prefer to be Jesus that was closed up behind a tomb.

My leg they said they had to remove

And I was told to stay till I improved

After some days they began to tell me to pay up my bills

And with no money on me I made them all sleep by spiking their drinks with a pill.

With the pain of losing my womb still a burden to me.

I limped savagely to my uncles house.

With the pain driving me crazy

I stabbed him in his eyes nose and mouth and buried him in a garden full of daises.

This time it was not a clean hit and run

And for fear of being caught I fled back to the East.

To my state of origin, Enugu

Where I lived hungry, naked and afraid

But at least I was safe.

Two weeks later the police tracked me down

And within the blink of an eye I was arrested.

Charged for the murder of 'two gentlemen' they said

And with that I was put on trail to be charged in court

Given the opportunity to speak

I wasted no time in performing my speech

I am Eze Fechi

And I am a victim

A victim of abuse

A victim of depression

A victim of humiliation

A victim of oppression

A victim of tribalism

And sadly, a victim of rape

After this I told them my life story.

Many cursed. many cried and the rest pitted me.

But even after this my hands were still bound

They all failed to understand

Because it was in my hands the knife was found.