An open letter to the girl in her teens by Femi Owolabi
Hello dear,
I know you would have read or heard something like this,
since you assumed this phase of your life. If you will oblige
me, however, I wanna share with you, the story of Bisola,
my friend who should be twenty this November.
Bisola and I met early this year in my neighborhood. You
see, that evening, I was sitting, with a few friends, in front of
my house when Bisola walked past. Her beauty is mesmeric
that our eyes followed her till she walked off the street. Days
later, Bisola and I already got talking. Mind me not, I am
skilled in making new friends that quick. Especially when the
girl is beautiful, just like you, you know?
Bisola is the second of the three children of her parents. Of
course, she wouldn’t agree to my friendship proposal on
time, and when we eventually got talking, she told me of
how she despises the guys in the neighborhood; those guys
who just wanna woo every girl they see walk past. “I will not
allow any guy destroy my future o,” Bisola told me. Let me
confess, at this initial stage of our friendship, my affection
was driven by pure lust. Forgive me, men could just be like
that, sometimes. Bisola was careful. She slapped off my
hand when it rested too much on her shoulder, that evening
I walked her down the street. She repelled every flirtatious
gaze I cast at her.
She came looking for me one day, sometime around mid-
August, and was told I was inside my room. My door was
pointed, and she came knocking. I asked her to come in, but
she was skeptical and asked I come out instead. When I
opened the door and she peeped into my room, she saw my
shelf and marveled. She was attracted by the books,
obviously, and willingly, she stepped into the room. “Are you
the only one reading all these plenty books?” she asked me,
as she knelt by the shelf looking through the titles.
Bisola sat for JAMB this year but she scored low and didn’t
meet the cut-off for a university admission. She was
preparing to re-sit for the examination. I helped her search
through the shelf for an old Economics textbook because
Eco, as she fondly called it, was her preferred course of
study. The gift of that book really meant a lot to her, and she
hugged me, for the first time. That moment when our hearts
got enclosed in a hug, I could feel she’s troubled.
“I have not seen my period,” she let out a sigh, looking into
my eyes. At first, I didn’t know what to say. “You had an
unprotected sex with your boyfriend?” I laced this question
with smiles, hoping she would take it as some witty asides.
“How could you relate such to me?” she was furious, and she
left. And for days, she didn’t answer my calls. I got angry
with myself, you know. I called a friend who is a doctor,
asking her what could be the reason why a month would go
and a girl won’t have her period. I told my friend to eschew
any pregnancy thoughts, because the girl in question never
indulged in sex. My friend used some medical jargon and
then suggested some medicines. The next time I saw Bisola
in the neighborhood, I ran after her, to show her the names
of the medicines that the doctor has recommended. I wrote
the medicines’ names on a sheet of paper I got from my
chest-pocket, and I took her palm and put the paper in it.
She was reluctant in receiving it.
“Femi, can I trust you with something?” she asked, in a
whispering tone. I told her to go ahead. “I had a D & C
abortion in June,” she said. Looking askance at her, I didn’t
know what to respond. “We had sex, my then boyfriend and
I. I discovered the pregnancy in June and I had to quickly get
rid of it,” she continued. Bisola is this smart girl, but I began
to see her naivety, especially when she started telling me
about the boyfriend whom she now hated. It was an irony;
her naivety juxtaposed her seeming smartness.
“You will be fine,” I calmed her, and I furthered with my
enquiries. I was then told that in the cases of some D & C
abortions, it may take about three months before the
patient gets her period. I called Bisola and I told her to
worry not, for her period will come at the expiration of three
months that she had the abortion. We both started counting
down to September 4th when the three months would
elapse.
I was out of town when Bisola called me, that it was the
tenth day of September and no traces of her period. I, too,
got overwhelmed with worries. “Let me go back to where I
had the D & C in June and asked why this,” she suggested,
and I agreed with her. She left her Lagos home for
somewhere in Ibadan, without telling anyone what she was
up to, except me. She consistently begged me not to reveal
this to anyone, even when the worries seemed bigger than
what we two can handle.
The next day, she called me. “I have just been told that the D
& C I had in June only took one baby of the two that was
inside of me, and this one might have been growing” she
said. I was shocked! I didn’t know how possible this could
have been. “So, what do we do now?” I asked her. I could
feel my voice shivering, because of how my heart palpitated.
“Get rid of it!” she screamed. This time, it wouldn’t be
through a D & C as she has been assured. She asked if I
could raise her some money because she has been billed
another N15, 000. A second abortion in a short interval-- of
months? I couldn’t just take this. “Let’s leave this baby, my
darling,” I begged. She was quick to anger you know. “Just
say you can’t give me money. I should leave the baby? You,
can you marry an after-one?” she said and she terminated
the call. I tried to reach her again, and she wouldn’t pick my
calls.
Later in the week, she called me. It was not good news. The
one of the twin babies has been confirmed lifeless. There
was no other option than to bring out the lifeless thing from
her womb.
Few days after the operation, I spoke with her over the
phone and I could barely hear her. “I have been bleeding
profusely,” she said in a faint voice. “Femi, I feel so weak.
Pads can’t even hold this blood. I’ve been using towels,” she
added. I was already in tears, you know.
I shared a bit of this on Facebook and many friends
suggested I ensure her parents know about this. I had to
open it up to one of her uncles in the neighborhood whom I
always argue politics with. He brought in the parents and
they set in immediately.
Last Thursday when I called her line, her dad picked. “She is
sleeping,” he told me. He thanked me for always checking on
her. “When she’s up, I will ask that she returns your call,” he
said.
On Monday night, 28th of September, 2015, my phone rang
as I stepped into my room. “Bisola is dead,” the caller said.
“She died this morning at the University College Hospital in
Ibadan,” he added.
Oh yes, I laughed. That would mark the beginning of the
mental illness that held me for hours. I became sicker. I
became weaker. A part of me died with Bisola. The
memories of that young girl who knelt by my shelf-- asking
for an Economics textbook-- haunt me.
Why am I writing to you? You see my dear, I discovered that
Bisola feared being stigmatized as an after-one. Just like
you, she wanna go to the university, graduate and marry her
lover. But things went wrong, and she wanted to return to
her normal self. I know you have a boyfriend. I had a
girlfriend, too, when I was eighteen, and oh, we did crazy
stuffs. I know you guys really wanna be all over each other
and have sex. I write to beg that you be careful, okay? I know
your approach to life could be refreshingly naïve. See, many
boys would wanna play on this. You have to be smarter,
okay? I wish I could explain better. And in the case you
eventually get pregnant, sweetheart, don’t rush to abort it,
please. Call your mum and dad, and tell them. Don’t go
through a D & C alone. My parents, conservative Christians,
won’t approve of abortion. I want to believe yours, too,
won’t. It is your life that matters and not what people would
call you; after-one or whatever. You will be amazed at how
people will stand strong for you, the after-one girl.
Please, take these things seriously and stay alive to enjoy
that future!
I care about you, always.
Femi Owolabi,
1:15AM 30/09/2015. Onipanu, Lagos, Nigeria
PS: You can re-share and re-blog this, and get it to the girls
who would need it.

Hmmmmm... Touching indeed.

Nice one op# better safe than sorry

I dey come make i park this bicycle before FRSC arrest me.

God bless you brother.

hmmm...it is well. I would like to add dis,girls should nt think dat getting an unwanted pregnancy is d end of ur destiny,fine u have made a huge mistake, buh u just have to bear the consequences and move on, u don't know wat life has in store for you and the child u are carrying.Some people also passed through d same situation u are facing,buh dey didn't abort their pregnancy because of what people will call them.Now some of them are having good testimonies as a result of not committing abortion.
So pls ladies, don't listen to wat people would say and cut ur life short.

Our ladies no go come read this now...


Plus op, I beg, remove the bold and paragraph the thing... you almost damaged my eyes

Beautiful...,

Shared already.....i love to stand the gap for people in distress.... dangerous but I feel better afterwards.....God bless your good heart!

Ameen

nsiazu:
God bless you brother.

Okay! No prob bro

bqlekan:
Our ladies no go come read this now...


Plus op, I beg, remove the bold and paragraph the thing... you almost damaged my eyes

Ameen

cooldipo:
Shared already.....i love to stand the gap for people in distress.... dangerous but I feel better afterwards.....God bless your good heart!