Lagos Monifa

Hi, I'll skip introducing myself again and assume you have read about parts of my life already, so I'll go straight into my next encounter.

I drove to the village with Abimbola so that she could spend time with her parents and family and mainly to collect her sister, Monifa. Their parents were very happy to see me and credited me with getting Abimbola to university, and with a scholarship. They seemed to ignore all the hard work that Abimbola put into it herself. I had been invited to spend the night and accepted the invitation. I would get more chance to understand the family and their daughters' background. It was apparent after a while that Abimbola was not particularly at ease in the family home. It seemed that she might prefer her new life.

I took the opportunity to observe Monifa. She was very different from her sister. She had a similar face but her body was more fulsome. Less my type. She was also quiet and withdrawn. I put that down to shyness or apprehension about moving to the city and going into domestic service. I remembered that when I first met Abimbola she was shy and took a while to look up to where I stood. Abimbola had said that Monifa was keen to get started but I couldn't see it.

That evening the family gathered for dinner and I first saw the sons of the family. They were far better dressed than the daughters. Three boys, the oldest was nearly 19, so the girls were both older than them. The dinner conversation centred on the boys and everything about them. You would be forgiven for thinking that the daughters didn't exist. I began to understand why Abimbola was not happy with the extended visit and why Monifa was so quiet and withdrawn. I started to get the impression that the family were better off than they had let on and it was just the girls that were taken out of education and lived in poverty at home.

The next morning I was happy to leave. I took both the girls with me. They would both come home to me and then Abimbola would help Monifa settle in before I took her to the university.

It was still the academic recess but the girls school that had educated Abimbola had an assessment day for adult starters. By "adult" they meant anyone who had missed out on education and was restarting when over normal school age. I got the impression that they were keen to take Monifa after their experience of Abimbola. When we dropped off Monifa, Abimbola and I posed for publicity shots. The fee would go towards Monifa's education. They wanted to show off their university scholarship winner and her sponsor. It would be good publicity for them. Having a scholar would bring them parental attention.

The school said that they would take Monifa but she would have to start a couple of grades lower than Abimbola did. Apparently both girls were taken out of education at the same time, so that accounted for one year's difference. The other grade was down to academic ability and being less accustomed to study. Assuming that Monifa passed all her grades first time that meant a three year commitment. I didn't think that I would be in Nigeria for three more years but at least I could get her some progress. Monifa was now over a year older than Abimbola was when she restarted her education and 18 more months out of the studying habit.

I again visited the school uniform shop and had to buy new uniforms to fit Monifa's figure. The old ones were well worn anyway, having been used more or less all day, every day that Abimbola was living with me until she graduated and I bought her a new wardrobe.

I was pleased to see that once she moved to Lagos and started to settle, Monifa was more relaxed and interested in life than she had been at her family home. It seemed that the oppressive atmosphere there may have been the cause of her sullenness.

I had never shown Abimbola what tasks needed doing around the home, she just knew. She was also very house proud and meticulous. It seemed that Monifa needed a little guidance, which Abimbola gave before she went to university. Either that or it was just a big sister - little sister thing. I was sure both had been given household jobs to do back home. The sisters also spent a lot of time talking quietly together in Yoruba, as one would expect. I never asked what they were talking about although often I understood enough it get a good idea. Abimbola always told me anything she thought was important anyway.

The day came to drive Abimbola to university and say farewell until the next visit. Monifa came too and I could see that they were very close. After a slightly tearful parting Monifa and I returned home.

Monifa didn't start relaxing in my presence as much as Abimbola had but it didn't interfere with her performing her duties around the house. She seemed to enjoy going to school, which gave me some satisfaction. I helped with homework as I had with her sister and decided that although not as academically gifted as Abimbola, she could pass her grades but not spectacularly.

Monifa also didn't confide in me as Abimbola did, and still does, so progress on the friendship/mentor front seemed too slow to me. I was a bit impatient to get to the extra curricular bit!

I tentatively mentioned that Abimbola had told me that she wanted to learn about keeping a faithful husband. Monifa went quiet, which in her case means very quiet and then I saw tears running down her cheeks. Oh dear, what had I said? What had caused this? My next thought was that I needed Abimbola. Come to think of it, Monifa needed her sister. Well, Abimbola wasn't around and I'd have to deal with it myself. I put an arm around Monifa's shoulders and gently asked her, in Yoruba, what the matter was and how I could help. The gentle touch and the use of her first language seemed to relax her enough to start the flow of worries, which in turn opened the floodgates. By the end of it we both needed comforting.

First, she was worried that there was something wrong with her and she could never make a good wife, then when she started to explain, her adult history poured out. I got so emotionally involved that I can't really remember the exact sequence in which things emerged but this is a potted version arranged into the chronology of the events described.

Abimbola and Monifa shared a bedroom and used to look out for each other. They were frequently verbally abused and beaten for not doing the housework to their mother's satisfaction and if she felt it necessary their father would be called in to reenforce their punishment. The boys would sometimes see or hear this and just laugh at them. Then, when Monifa was approaching 18 her big sister was sent to be a maid for a man in Lagos (me). She then had to face all the punishment and abuse alone, with no one to turn to for either help or sympathy. This went on for a year and when Monifa was nearly 19 and the eldest boy turned 18 things got nastier.

Anfani, as she called him, started making lewd comments and exposing himself. On a couple of occasions their father saw it but only reprimanded Anfani by quietly telling him not to do that again. Then one night Anfani turned up in her bedroom. Monifa managed to keep him off and made such a noise that he retreated. Monifa's parents were in the next room and must have heard but no one came to see whether she was ok and no one was asked about it, even the next morning. Emboldened Anfani turned up the next night. Terrified and knowing her parents weren't going to help Monifa put up a tremendous fight but ended up being battered, bruised and sexually assaulted. This repeated itself several nights and it was dawning on Monifa that she might as well give in and minimise her injuries.

The following night Anfani, not realising that he could get his way, came equipped to do Monifa a serious assault. He came in, gagged her and then put the light on so she could see what was about to happen. He forced her legs apart and then rammed a cassava up between them. Monifa screamed in pain as much as the gag allowed. As she looked down she could see the vegetable protruding and a growing area of blood on her sheet. Anfani probably didn't realise the effect he would have, panicked and fled. Monifa was left to tend her wound as best she could. She couldn't tell her parents what had happened and just had to allow her injuries to heal themselves.

While she wasn't able to work so hard she was beaten harder and more often for her "laziness". At least Anfani was scared off by the experience and never bothered her again. Now she worried that because of her injuries she would never be able to satisfy a man or keep a husband. In fact she didn't think she could ever trust a man again, except for me, because Abimbola had told her that I was totally trustworthy. That was why she was initially so keen for my help but then the thought of a man intimately touching her started to panic her and she had second thoughts.

I calmly explained to her that the true love of a man is not dependent on how well she functioned "down there" and even if it was, I could teach her other ways to please a man. I broached the subject of notifying the police but she didn't want other people meddling in her private life. In that case, I told her, she should go straight to a gynaecologist and have anything done that was needed. I would pay the bills, by which I meant that the household element of my medical insurance would pay the bills, after all, she was part of my household by then.

I then asked whether Abimbola knew. It seemed that Monifa was so shamed and embarrassed that she hadn't told anybody. I commended her bravery in telling me but her sister really ought to know. Next bank holiday I would make sure Abimbola stayed with us, so that she could find out from whichever of us seemed appropriate at the time.

As it was late I waited until the next morning before asking among friends for recommendations for a gynaecologist for "a friend". I wondered whether they thought that I'd been carelessly indiscreet. One name came up twice. It was a woman, which in Monifa's state was a huge advantage and I called her office. I outlined the situation as a potentially serious internal injury and managed to get a cancellation that afternoon. I notified the school and took Monifa to see her. I sat in the doctor's office holding Monifa's hand as she explained the event that injured her and then waited outside while the examination took place. As I suspected, there was serious damage. An exploratory operation was needed to establish exactly what had happened and possibly do repairs at the same time but we had to be prepared that more operations might need to follow. Monifa was shocked. I was not. I am well acquainted with women's anatomy and I am also acquainted with cassavas and there is no way the two should come into contact.

I assured the doctor that I would pay the bills and that I wanted things to start as soon as possible, but hoped that Monifa could be home for the coming bank holiday weekend as we had an important family reunion. Monifa was not scared of a hospital stay and being cut open. She was terrified. The lady gynaecologist understood and prescribed some medication to be taken in the run up to her operation. It would calm her nerves and stop her worrying so much. The next appointment available for the hospital stay started the day after the bank holiday. That was ideal. With the medication it should be easier for Monifa to tell Abimbola about what happened.

With Monifa not being worried about anything the quality of her work dropped somewhat, but I didn't mind. These were special circumstances. I realised that I needed to tell the school about the medicine's effects so that she didn't get into trouble and they could make allowances. I also told them that she would be going into hospital for an abdominal operation and that she wouldn't be fit for activities for a while.

The bank holiday weekend came and we collected Abimbola. Saturday went well until dinner was served. Over dinner Monifa told Abimbola all about what happened after she moved to Lagos. I had offered to leave the room for a while but she wanted me to stay while she talked about it. She was very matter of fact and totally without emotion. I think I should have got a duplicate prescription for Abimbola. She completely went to pieces. She felt guilty for leaving home, even though she didn't get a choice. She felt guilty for not protecting her little sister. She felt guilty for not realising that something serious had happened and she felt guilty for not being there for support when finally the facts came out. She also wanted to castrate her brother, I did say that was a bit too extreme, although I felt much the same.

The rest of the evening and most of Sunday we were all a bit sullen but obviously Abimbola had been thinking it through and by Sunday evening she thanked me for all the support I was giving Monifa and for enabling her to finally talk about what happened to her. She realised that bringing it all into the open was a very painful first step in her emotional recovery. Any future updates she wanted as soon as they were available and not at a specially convened meeting. I too realised that Monifa had two paths towards healing, one for her body and the other for her soul. I would be the one who was there for her. I was the only man she trusted and one of only 2 people who knew what she had been through. (The gynaecologist only knew the part about the sexual injuries.)

That night Abimbola and I cuddled and consoled each other in bed, ending up with long overdue relief of the built up sexual frustrations caused by our half term of abstinence.

Before the operation Monifa needed to be shaved. She was asked whether she wanted to prepare herself before arriving at the hospital or whether they should arrange for someone to do it there. She chose to arrive ready shaven. On the bank holiday Monday she revealed to us that she couldn't shave herself as she had never shaved before and anyway couldn't see the lowest parts that needed doing. Abimbola volunteered to do it but Monifa objected, asking what experience she had of shaving. She didn't have any. Then she said that as I shaved every day I was the right person for the job. Well, shaving my face and shaving a woman's nether regions are very different so with that proviso I agreed. I said that Abimbola could be present to check for impropriety. The girls agreed.

We went up to the bedroom and I put a couple of plastic bags on the corner of the bed nearest the bathroom, then I put a towel over them and Monifa removed her lower clothes and lay on her back with one leg each side of the corner and her vulva above it. Thanks to her medication she didn't seem embarrassed at all. First I got out my clippers and trimmed all the hair to a couple of millimetres. That was the shortest setting I could use. I had to pull each outer lip flat to get a good cut. I brushed off the loose hair and then using a face cloth I washed the whole area with warm soap and water. I wanted to use hot water but thought the area would be too sensitive. Then I used shaving foam. I rubbed in a thin layer and then applied a little more. I quickly shaved the pubis and patted it dry. Now I had the fiddly bits. I started on the front surface of the lips, using one hand to press the clitoris out of the way to one side and then the other. I asked Monifa to spread her thighs as much as possible and admired the view slightly longer that was necessary to plan my next actions.

I realised that the outer lips were parting on their own but the inner ones were plump and full. Maybe this was the result of my ministrations so far. The lips parting was good but the inner lips swelling up could be a problem. I would have to keep them out of the way. Starting on one side I slipped the finger tips of one hand between inner and outer lips and started to shave the outer one. At times I needed to use my thumb to stretch the lip in one direction and then another to enable me to clear the whole lip without leaving stubble in places. At this stage I would have a problem standing straight without revealing the bulge in my trousers.

I swapped sides and hands. This was a case where being ambidextrous was an advantage. I set to work in a similar way on the other side. Finally I cleared the little bum fluff. Job done. I gave Monifa a more than cursory wipe and told her to shower and let me know whether it felt smooth enough all over. If not I would do a quick touch up job.

As Monifa went into the bathroom Abimbola came up behind me. She congratulated me on a job well done and suggested that while Monifa was showering she could help me with the obvious problem I was having with my penis. Clearly I hadn't been as discreet as I might have been. She gave me a quick blow job though the open zip of my trousers and as I closed my eyes I imagined Monifa's open and inviting vagina. I exploded in Abimbola's mouth in next to no time and just in time to do up my zip before Monifa returned. She walked in naked to show off her new look. She looked gorgeous and we both complemented her.

When she had the operation I was there when Monifa fell asleep from the anaesthesia and there again when she woke. My curiosity and constant wish to learn meant that I would have loved to be present between those two events, but that wasn't permitted. I did get an introduction to the preliminary results, pending tests. There was scarring to the walls of the vagina which may impact its elasticity. The end of the vagina was ruptured and then badly scarred as the body tried to heal itself. The surface of the cervix and the back of the bladder were also badly scraped and scarred. She was lucky to have emptied the bladder shortly before the attack or it would have burst. There was minor damage to the intestines but fortunately they appeared to have healed. The gynaecologist had cut away the scaring and rebuilt the end of the vagina. She had done minor repairs to the cervix. If Monifa became pregnant she would need a C-section for the birth(s).

It was recommended that a urologist attend to the damage to the bladder and in the meantime the gynaecologist suggested that Monifa should never "hang on" when she had the urge to urinate as the bladder's strength had probably been compromised. If we approved (which we did) she would send her results to a female urologist that worked at the same hospital.

Finally she had arranged the operation scar so that it would be largely hidden by hair once it grew back.

I SMSed Abimbola with the initial findings.

The samples tested didn't reveal any leakage between organs or ongoing infection and Monifa was discharged into my care after three days. I would have to be her nurse, maid and full time carer for a week or so and after that her duties would be severely limited with a gradual take up of the easier tasks. She had painkillers but no more of the mind numbing drug she took before her admission.

As her carer I needed to assist with her going to the toilet. Under the extreme circumstances Monifa didn't seem to mind. Initially I wiped her clean and dry. I also gave her blanket baths for the first 2 days before she was fit to stand spreadeagled in the shower for her wash. I offered to let her clean the bits she could reach but she preferred me to do the job and to keep both hands on the wall. I was able to get her used to my touch all over, including rubbing moisturiser over her whole body. Some areas more than others. (White readers may not realise that African skin is very prone to dryness. It was something that surprised me.)

I also had to change a dressing each day that was basically a replaceable gauze pad on the end of a rod that supported the rebuilt end of the vagina. It was lubricated by an antiseptic cream that I had to liberally apply to the top. So there I was performing very intimate tasks on her without her ever flinching or showing embarrassment. I enjoyed the sight of that rod disappearing up her vagina as I held her lips apart. It seemed that Monifa liked my ministrations too but not to the extent of being obviously turned on.