How I Got Pregnant at 11

I know y'all are itching to read this one!

Okay, so this is the story of how I got pregnant at 11. I know this scar will forever remain with me, and I pray you all not to be judgemental, we all make mistakes in life.

I'm sure most of you ( and I'm talking to the African girls amongst us) all went through that phase in life when you finally reached puberty and had your first period, and your Mum told you about how you'd get pregnant if you ever let a boy touch you, as well as all the horrible consequences that would follow. I can still remember my Mum's words ringing in my ears:

"Omodele, you're a woman now, you know what that means don't you? It means that you need to be very careful around boys. Beware of them, if a boy touches you, you'll get pregnant, and if you get pregnant, that's the end for you. You'll be driven away from your home, nobody will want to be associated with you, no man will marry you, and finally, you'll die and go to hell fire" .

 

Now trust me, I didn't want to be driven away from my home, not with all my cartoons I looked forward to watching everyday. Not sure if I cared about people not wanting to be associated with me or about a man not wanting to marry me (like I even knew what marriage was about then), but the dying and going to hell part?? Omo! that part entered my head wella. So began "OPERATION STAY AWAY FROM BOYS" .

 

The next morning, as I prepared for school, I envisioned the day that lay ahead of me. Standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, brushing my teeth, I kept going over the tactics I would need to carry out my plan in my head. I wasn't ready to miss my cartoons, neither was I ready to die and go to hell. I had heard so many scary stories about hell. The particular version that kept coming to mind was the one where if you go to hell and your offence was great, the devil would roast you over an open fire like a pig. So trust me when I say that getting pregnant had to be avoided at all costs.

 

I got to school, entered my classroom, and went to the empty row of seats at the back of the class, where I was sure to be sitting alone with no boy beside me. This was obviously a surprise to my teacher and the rest of the class seeing as I always sat in the first row of seats. I saw the questioning look on their faces, and as I looked towards the front row and saw that my usual spot had two boys sitting on each side, I knew I'd made the right decision. Lord knows if I'd sat there with all four boys surrounding me,and who knows, maybe touching me as well, I wouldn't only be roast pig, the devil will use me for suya night. So far, so good!

 

Then came time for recess. I loved recess because that was the time to go out and play, and that was also the time we all showed off what we brought as lunch for the day. Whoever brought the most goodies was looked unto as a god. Well, not to brag or anything, but I always came with the most goodies and that earned me the nickname "Roban stores" amongst my classmates because my lunch could practically go round everyone in the class and I'd still have leftovers ( though the leftovers never filled 12 baskets). But today, I wasn't in the mood to mingle, so I found a quiet spot away from my friends and sat there watching others play. Some of the boys in my class were having a nice time playing with their ball not so far from where I was sitting.

 

All of a sudden, I saw the ball flying in the air, fast heading towards my direction. At the same time, two boys were chasing after it. Before I had a chance to get out of the way, the ball landed on my head. The two boys came crashing into me as well as they both struggled for who would get the ball first. I slowly got up from the ground trying to make sense of what had just happened while battling the growing pain I felt in my head. I could see everyone rushing towards me, and I could hear voices saying "sorry oo", "does your head hurt?", "let's take her to the school nurse", but they sounded like distant cries. It finally hit me, the reality of it all finally hit me. I had let a boy touch me, not just one boy, but two. I WAS PREGNANT! Noo, I wasn't just pregnant, I was going to be roast pig!!!

 

I got home after school. My parents weren't back so I quickly went about my chores, all the while pondering what my fate would be if my parents ever found out. I decided to watch my last cartoon show on T.V, but even Scooby Doo couldn't lift my spirits. On hearing that my parents had returned home from work, I quickly ran into my room and shut the door. When asked to come down for dinner, I lied saying I'd eaten and that I had a lot of homework from school to do.

 

I couldn't sleep that night. I lay awake tossing and turning, touching my tummy to see if I'd feel any sign of the baby. My tummy felt bigger than usual (or maybe it was all the water I'd been drinking that night to stop the increasing rumble in my tummy that was obviously due to hunger) and I just knew it was the baby, it had started growing! I cried and cried till I could cry no more. I decided that the best thing to do would be to run away from home before my parents found out I was pregnant, that way, when they start looking for me and eventually find me, they'll be too heartbroken to send me away or punish me for getting pregnant. How hard could that be, I mean they do it in cartoons and movies all the time, right?

 

I woke up very early the next day and packed my things. My plan was to leave before everybody woke up. I had finished packing and was already heading for the door when my Mum stepped out like a ghost from nowhere. With the surprised look on her face, she asked  where I was heading to with all the bags (ghana-must-go) I was carrying. I immediately broke down in tears and told her that I was running away. She asked why, and I broke the news to her......

Well, I'm sure you can guess the rest of the story.

Happy Weekend y'all!

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