I saw a post where a woman narrated that she interviewed a sex offender who said he specifically targeted the children of single mothers in the complex that he was living. He mentioned that they were the easiest to target because the mothers constantly needed help and once they developed a little trust in him they would let him watch over their kids. He said he would wait about a year before the abuse begins.

It is not only evil men that target the children of single mothers. The cruelty of life also targets them. Whether intentionally or not, they become victims of circumstance and abuse.

17 years ago, about 2009, not too long after my mom moved our family to Peduase in the Eastern region. I had to move in with my dad's sister, my auntie, who I happened to be named after. I am no longer named after her, I changed my name. And as a child, as a young girl at that age, I think about 12 or 13 years, thinking very innocently, I moved in with this woman and the months moving into a few years, about two years, were very horrible for me.

I'm going to list a number of events that took place at the time in no particular order.

I remember when I was in JSS2 in my school Morning Star, we were required to go for Saturday classes from. I remember there was one morning I got dressed up to go to school on a Saturday and then this woman started taunting me, shouting and screaming at the top of her voice, that I'm a liar. The school has not organized any Saturday classes. She will not let me go anywhere. She called me a bad girl. I want to go somewhere with some guys.

She called my mom and then my mom confirmed that truly there was something like that and I was supposed to be there. Now, she was supposed to give me money to go to school and I told her how much my expense would be that day. She got furious and started screaming, called me a liar, said, I'm a liar, I'm a bad girl. I know what I'm going to use the money for.

She came out and I remember very well that she had squeezed two Ghana cedis in her hands and she threw it at me, threw it at my face, and told me that this is all she could give me. I was very surprised the day I shared with my mom that she had done this to me, which was very recently and my mum said she was shocked because the woman was not giving me money out of her own pocket. My mom was apparently giving her money to give to me.

My mom said the reason why she used to give her money for my upkeep was because she didn't want the woman to accuse me of being a thief. She would rather give it to her, the adult, to give it to me. And this woman was making it look like the money was out of her own pocket. Like she was giving me money for school herself. She was sometimes not even giving me the money. All this while it was my mother's money. And this is how you were treating me. My mother's money she had given to you to give to me because she doesn't want you to call me a thief. And this is how you're treating me.

I was not given the opportunity to learn when I was staying with this woman. I remember any time I wanted to learn after school and I turned on the light, at the dining area, she would start yelling and screaming, and then she would tell me that if I turn on the lights in her flat, I will draw the attention of thieves to her flat at Adenta.

It got to a point I had to fight her to be able to study and explain to her that I needed to study. Imagine a 13-year-old girl, and you know she's a student, you know she has to study, yet you are making it difficult. You know what I used to do? I remember at that time as soon as I got back from school, I'll quickly shower and take my books and start studying. She would get back most of the time later than I would. As soon as she got back, she would go and change her clothes and then wrap a cloth around her and then come and lie in the sofa in the hall.

And we were not allowed to turn on lights in the house. She would leave one very dim light on and then she would turn on the TV. That is what I was using to read my book until I had to go back and forth with her a couple of times before she finally agreed to let me study at her dining area. Now... Anytime this woman saw me studying, the witchcraft in her soul could not let her hold back. She would taunt me and laugh at me. She would tell me, "You, you think you can learn? Nothing will come out of your life. Nothing. You think you can learn and study and pass your exam? We'll all be here to see if it will happen."

She would laugh, keep laughing and laughing and taunt me. And I would hold my head up and tell her, I will prove you wrong. Now that I'm older and I have entered spirituality very deeply and I am a strong practitioner of priesthood with the blood of Jesus, I understand her comments. But I don't care because He that dwells in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.

AND I PROMISE YOU WILL WATCH ME BECOME THE GREATEST THING YOUR FAMILY AND THE BLOODLINE HAS EVER SEEN WHETHER YOU ARE DEAD OR ALIVE. I CAME TO ESTABLISH WHAT HAS NEVER BEEN DONE. AND NOW I ACTUALLY KNOW HOW TO FIGHT IN THE SECRET PLACE. NO MAN BORN OF FLESH AND MAN ANYWHERE ON THIS EARTH CAN STOP ME.

When I moved in to stay with her, she was not obliged to provide for me, to care for me, it was just for the purpose of school, but the level of cruelty I experienced at her hands, it would have been better for her to tell my parents that she cannot accommodate me in her home than to put me through that.

Those times, I don't know if you guys remember something called chair bags. People used to put it over their furniture and all of that. And then she had some chair bags in the hall, right? Someone used to come and wash her clothes for her and she would select the chair I used to sit in and the chair bag I would place my head on. She would remove that chair bag, give it to me and tell me my dirty hair and my dirty self. I should take the chair bag home and come and wash it in my mother's house. She would not let her cleaner touch my dirty body. I used to come home every Saturday when I was in JSS.

I remember I would take the chair bag and come and wash it at home. So my mom would see one chair bag in my school uniforms and ask me, "Abena, but where from this chair bag?" And I would tell her, "Aunty Dot says I should bring it home and come and wash it because I have put my dirty head and dirty hair on the chair bag." It didn't end there. It even went to bed sheets.

The sheets she used to give me to sleep on in the room that she had given me, she would tell me to bring those sheets to my mother's house and come and wash the sheets in my mother's house because she would not let her cleaner touch anything that I had slept on or rested my head on because I'm a very dirty person.

Mind you, for somebody who used to come back from work and would not shower, only change her clothes, lie in the sofa, wrap a cloth around herself, pick her nose and stick it under the center table of her sitting room every single night she got back from work. I couldn't believe somebody like this would tell me that I was dirty.

Even when I had to sleep in her room because guests were using the other room, she would remove the bedsheet we slept on that week before I left for home and give it to me saying that I had made the sheets the dirtiest since I slept on the bed with her. She would point out the section of the bed I slept on and tell me that couldn't I see my side was the dirtiest, but I still couldn't see what she was saying, and interestingly she was the one who didn't like bathing.

Though my mother was and still is a single parent, she followed me everywhere I went. My mom is the type of mother that would smell your pits, iron your panties, wait for you at the bathroom door to ensure that you shower, instilling a lifestyle of cleanliness and discipline in me. I couldn't believe it that I was being called dirty.

Why couldn't I just wash my clothes at my auntie's place? Well, the thing is that Ghana water only used to flow on some days, I'm sure it's still like that. She had a poly tank that she would fill every week when Ghana water comes, but I wasn't allowed to use some of that water to wash my clothes.

If by any chance on the weekend, I couldn't go home to Peduase, my mom, we would know ahead of time, so that week my mom would carry gallons of water to my auntie's house, and I would arrange those gallons in the room that I slept in so that when it was time to do my laundry or wash my clothes over the weekend, I would pour some of the water from the gallons to wash my clothes. Especially at the time when I was in form two when we started doing the Saturday classes, this is what was happening. So

She would still make sure that I would wash the chair bag I had rested my head on and the bedsheet I slept on with the water my mom would bring me consistently. There is nothing wrong with washing your own sheets. But the remarks that came with it and deliberately selecting only the single chair I had sat in, saying I had discoloured the chair bag with my dirty hair and later in future even using it to slap my face, was deliberate and selective cruelty.

Saturday ordeals and the insults I would get on Saturdays because I had to go to school, got so bad I told my mum to come and pick me up on Friday evenings like we sued to do when I was in form one. My mom used to come and pick me up Friday evenings, and then we'll go home. I told my mum, "Ma, you know what? Come and pick me up on Friday, and then I'll pick a car from Peduase to Morning Star School, and then when we close from school, I'll pick a car and come back home. I want to be home with you on the weekend."

I was doing that trip every Saturday from Aburi to Morning Star and Morning Star back to Aburi every Saturday that we had to be in school because this is what the woman was putting me through. I was not allowed to use water in her house for anything else but bath. And bathing twice a day in her house was now becoming a problem because the water that she can afford to give me to shower was one bucket of water a day. And I wasn't allowed to use more.

Even at a point, taking a number two was becoming an issue in this woman's house. I was scared to do number two. I used to constipate myself and wait till I got home. That's freaking crazy for any child to have to go through that. Because if I have to do a number two in her house, that means I'm going for water and she would yell and scream and yell and scream and berate me. I told my mom this is what she was doing. Then my mom decided to give me more gallons of water so that if I wanted to bath twice a day I could and also confidently be able to do a number two.

I used to walk on normal school days from Adenta, the post office. I don't want to mention the block number, but right around the Adenta Post Office area, I used to walk from there to the main road sometimes just to get a car to come to school.

I would get tired until one day I found out that a classmate of mine in like my year group also lived at Adenta. And I just gathered courage and one day asked if I could get a lift.

To cut this part of the story short, God bless Auntie Yvonne, God bless Eileen, God bless Grandma, God bless Uncle Charles, wherever you are, because of what you did for me, whatever you touch will turn to gold. There's no challenge that can overcome you. Nothing, no harm will befall your home because of what you did for me.

Auntie Yvonne, Eileen's mum eventually met with my mother, and my mother shared her story with her, and Auntie Yvonne and Grandma made it a point to include me in the rides to school.

This is how I started going to school every morning with Eileen, every morning with Eileen, because this is what I was going through.

Now, let me say something.

When I say I hate the people that hurt me in Morning Star School, I hate the people that made it a point to constantly bully me and make my life that was already hell more hellish in school, someone would say hate is a strong word. I hate my auntie. How can you be a Christian and have hatred towards people? God will heal my heart eventually, but all these people, some whose names I would not mention now, must become like strangers to me.

I desperately wish to not encounter these specific people again and I wish when they see me, they would act like we have never known each other. Just like when I met my auntie in 2022. We saw each other very well but passed by like strangers. That is the peace I want and wish for. School was supposed to be my peace, and you took that away from me. Why should I be afraid to come to school because somebody was going to laugh at my shoes after everything I was going through at home.

I was going through a lot for a child. People used to see me and say, oh, you are so slim. You don't know. You don't know the toll this stress was taking out on me, on my body as a little girl. You don't know. You don't know.

You don't know that just two years earlier in 2007 I had suffered a severe kidney infection and almost died. I was out of school for almost two months. And when I went back to school, cruel children went and filled my school bag with stones and scattered my books across the school compound to teach me a lesson because my sister who used to fight them off when they tried to bully me had now left the school and was no longer around to protect me so they would teach me a lesson. Even after recovery, I was constantly in and out of the hospital I no longer feared hospital needles and injections. It took a toll on my health so bad I was not able to gain weight until uni level 200.

Then the following year we had to move to Aburi. Then the next year I had to move to Adenta to reduce my distance to school. No breaks for body and within me.

When I started going to school with Eileen, I would walk from Block 12A to Adenta Housing Down just to meet up with them. Now, there were days where I would join my aunt's friend. She used to leave home around between 4 a.m to 5:30 a.m.

If I wanted to join her, I used to wake up at 3 a.m. and I had to get ready and sit down and wait. I was a lot of the time so tired when I used to come to school. I was so tired. I used to be so tired. I used to be so freaking tired.

It was not like Eileen would be leaving the house like early like that. No, they used to leave the house around 6:30, between 6 o'clock to 6:30, sometimes 6:45, they'll be out of the house. The time I was awake and like trying to get ready for school and all, some people's kids would be fast asleep. Some people's kids would be fast asleep.

There were some days where I was way too tired. I just couldn't do the walk. I was too tired.

I just couldn't wake up early to go with this woman because I was way too tired.

And so, I would try and make sure that I would sleep and then wake up at 5 and then by 5:30, 5:35, I should be ready and I'll do like a 25 to 30 minutes walk to Eileen's house.

Later, I think Uncle Charles and then Eileen's mom realized that I used to be tired. So, they just on their own started picking me up.

There were days where would try and rush to get ready to meet with my aunt's friend, but she'll just be gone. Her time was her time.

I wouldn't blame my mum for any of this it's not even my mum's fault.

If you don't make yourself available to take care of a child, you can't expect somebody, you can't expect somebody to hold it for you. No one is obliged to. And it was not fair that it was the responsibility of only one person to raise four daughters all one.

To be very honest, I don't know how I was able to even pass my tests. Pass my exams. I don't know how I was able to do it. I really don't know how. So that person who told me in JSS3 that even though I came third in my class I was 20th overall for all the 4 streams in our year group meanwhile someone who was 5th in his class paced higher than I did. I want to tell you that I did very well. This was battle and cross to carry. You knew not even half of it.

Those words broke me so deeply. Because no one knew the tears I used to cry. My small mind could not understand why there was so much pain.

They say you need to be kind to people because you don't know the battles they are fighting. I say be kind whether or not you know because no one owes you an explanation into their battles. Any kindness you offer someone has nothing to do with you. It has everything to do with what is right. Just be kind or say nothing at all and move on.

I think I've been tired almost all my life. I've just been operating from a space of mental and emotional and physical exhaustion. And to be honest, sometimes I feel like if situations had been a little bit different, I would have been one of the most excellent students ever because this was a lot and has been a lot.

There was no water to drink in her house, let me tell you why.

My aunt would rather boil tap water in a kettle and wait for it to cool and pour it in a bottle and put it in the fridge and drink. Though she had sachet water, it was only meant for when my Granma (her mother) was around. I wasn't allowed to drink it and if I did. I had to replace it. She even once mentioned to me that wanting to drink sachet water was extravagance on my part. I would buy my own water and send it to her house whenever I went there on Sunday.

So apart from going in with my own gallons, I had to buy my own sachet water and send it there. I wasn't allowed to touch her groceries in the fridge. My mom had to provide all of my groceries for especially breakfast and dinner; lunch was in school most of the time. With dinner, at a point, she would complain bitterly if maybe I took her yam and cut some to boil or cut some to fry, maybe I poured some of her oil to fry. So, I told my mom and she would give me yam.

My mom would give me groceries for myself, full package, and I'll send it in there to cook for myself. There was a time when she traveled, and so my dad's mum and her help had come over to the house. My father's mother was also just as cruel as my aunt. At the time, I had sorted the discussion out with my aunt concerning the fact that I needed to learn, so I would turn on the lights just at the dining area so I could study. When my aunt traveled, it became a different discussion. My grandmother said she would not let me turn on the lights.

Sometimes you wonder, like, why is this person so, like, fierce and, like, aggressive? And I'm not somebody that I just casually get up and I want to tell you. Don't piss me off. It's just that I have experienced a pattern of people trying to play in my face for a very long time in my life.

And so, anytime I turned on the light at that dining area when my grandmother was around, she would go and turn off the light. And I would tell her, no, this won't work. I would fight them and turn the light back on. One fight got so bad, I used my head to hit the nose of my grandmother's help, and she bled from her nose. And I told her, because she turned off the light, that's why I ended up hitting your nose because I couldn't even see her standing there.

But that should tell you something: don't play with me when it comes to my education. I needed to study, and I was going to study because I was determined to pass my exams. This was Form Two. Things were becoming serious because Form Three and the BECE were just around the corner.

So yes, I struck her nose with my head, and she bled. Apparently, they called almost everyone on my dad's side of the family to tell them what I had done.

Did I care? No.

My aunt would buy milk and keep it in the fridge for my grandmother. I wasn't allowed to touch it, and I respected that. I have too much self-respect to touch something that isn't mine. So, my mum bought me my own milk. In fact, I deliberately bought a different brand so that everyone would know which one belonged to me.

One day, I walked into the kitchen and realized they were serving my milk.

At that point, I exploded. I had had enough.

After that day, they knew never to touch anything that belonged to me again.

This kind of torment went on for a long time while I stayed in that house. Eventually, I made up my mind that I was leaving.

I didn't tell my mom.

I didn't tell my dad.

I didn't tell a single soul.

Every weekend when I went home, I quietly packed a few more of my things, some clothes, some books. I planned everything in my head without telling anyone.

Then came my mother's birthday, 18 January 2011. She was coming to pick me up so we could celebrate together at home. Sometimes people think you're exaggerating until they witness something for themselves. My mom and my eldest sister later told me that as they walked toward the flat, they could already hear my aunt screaming. She was shouting so loudly that they wondered what was happening.

As they got closer to the door, they heard her shouting in Twi. I'll translate it into English.

"You dirty girl. You dirty girl. Look at you. Such a dirty girl. Nonsense. Dirty girl like you."

As they reached the door, she didn't realize I they were about to open it.

and she had slapped me across the face with one of the chair bags, yelling that I hadn't washed it properly and that it had become stained because of my dirty hair.

The moment she saw my mom and my eldest sister standing at the door, she froze.

Instantly, her entire demeanor changed.

"Oh, hello! Good evening. I didn't know you were coming"

My mom simply replied, "Yes, it's my birthday today. I just came to pick Abena so we can celebrate."

I had already made my decision. As we sat in the car driving home, I turned to my mom and said, "Mommy, today is the last day. I'm not coming back to that house." Looking back now as an adult, I sometimes wonder how I could have made such a bold decision at that age. What exactly had I planned in my twelve- or thirteen-year-old mind that made me so certain

I wasn't going back?

My mom didn't argue.

She didn't pressure me.

She simply said, "I understand."

Then she asked, "Okay. Let's plan. What do we need to do?"

At the time, my mom was a lecturer. Her mornings had become relatively free in the new semester because her lectures didn't usually begin very early, although her afternoons and evenings were always packed. She decided that from January until I wrote my BECE in April 2011, she would take me to school herself every morning. For four months, she made it work.

Around that time, Auntie Yvonne noticed that my mom had started dropping me off every morning.

Previously, if I hadn't reached their house in time, Uncle Charles would call me to find out where I was. If I was along the road, he would simply tell me to stop where I was and he would come and pick me up. Eventually, Uncle Charles began driving all the way to my house near the Adenta Post Office every morning. Around 6:00 a.m., he would pick me up, then we'd go and pick up Eileen before heading to Morning Star School. They did all of that for me.

For free.

The fuel.

The extra distance.

The time.

The effort.

Everything.

To this day, I still say, God bless Auntie Yvonne. God bless Uncle Charles.

Later, Auntie Yvonne realized that before they even had a chance to call me to ask where I was, my mom had already brought me to school. Back then I was still called Dorothy. I no longer use that name. Because of everything that was happening in my life, I had to carry a phone with me. My circumstances were different especially after the day I went missing, having that phone became absolutely necessary. It was a tiny phone, one of those very small phones people used to carry. That little phone stayed with me at school.

Eventually, Auntie Yvonne spoke with my mom again.

She said, "Let her come and stay with us."

God bless that woman.

She invited me into her home in Adenta.

A lot of people don't know this, but during the weeks leading up to my BECE, and even for a short period during my BECE, I was living in Eileen's house.I slept there. Literally.

It wasn't for very long, but it became one of the most meaningful moments of my childhood.

I still remember my first evening there. My mom arrived carrying bags full of groceries and provisions.

Auntie Yvonne looked at her and asked, "What's all this?"

My mom started explaining that it was just some food for me.

Auntie Yvonne stopped her.

She said, "Take everything back."

My mom tried to insist.

"No, just keep it."

But Auntie Yvonne repeated herself.

"Take it back home."

"I never told you I couldn't feed her."

"Take it back home."

That moment has stayed with me ever since.

When I say that, even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, I know why I say this. Anytime, one of my favorite songs is by Naomi Reed, The Story I'll Tell. But yeah, so the story, the reason why I changed my name is because I don't want to have anybody, anything to do with anybody that deals in the devil's business, who is in the spirit, who is in the... in the business of breaking souls, breaking confidence, manipulating destiny, and understanding and becoming aware of this woman's hold or her attempts to have a hold over my life, right, as I grew up.

Because of a name, it's been a battle my whole life. But you see, God has said that he will prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. So even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. No work of witchcraft can overcome me. And I don't know if you've read my story, The Elevator Plunge.

https://www.abenas.blog/post/the-elevator-plunge-shall-we-drop-from-the-5th-floor-to-the-basement-the-day-i-finalised-my-name-c

The day I finalized my name change; I almost died in an elevator. It dropped me from the fifth floor of the building to the basement, and I was the only one stuck in the elevator, hot elevator for about 15 minutes. I was in there alone.

Let me end it here by saying my name is Abena Onsonyameye (Nyameye) Kyei. Thank you, God, for elevation above the pain of my past. Truly there is nothing you cannot do.