HIS KITO STORY (EDITION 27)

This story is a narrative of what happened to me in December. It’s been a battle of the mind over the decision to share or not to share, but I realized that it’s only fair that I share my story for us to understand the predatory situation we are facing in Nigeria, our own home and country.

A couple of months ago, precisely in the third quarter of 2017, I received a message from some random guy on Facebook with the handle, Kingsley Ugorji (picture below), asking us to be friends, that he liked me and all that jazz. At first, I felt uneasy about it. And then, I decided not to be rude and so I welcomed this fellow into my online space, and we got into a chatversation during which I got to know that he was from Aba and lived there. I stay in Imo, Mbaise to be precise. As we chatted, he kept wanting to know when I would come over to Aba to see him. And every time, I maintained that I couldn’t just up and go to Aba simply because I wanted to hook up with him, that my coming to Aba would have to be when something brings me there, then I would seize the opportunity to meet with him.

After some days, our chatting became irregular and broken, and finally we weren’t chatting any longer, probably because he’d realized I wasn’t the “fast lane” kind of guy.

And then sometime in December, I got this job that required some serious shopping (I’m into events management). I decided to go to Aba instead of Onitsha for the shopping, not because of the prospect of seeing Kingsley Ugorji, because he wasn’t even on my mind. However, it was while I was on my way to Aba that I remembered him and decided to contact him concerning my trip to Ariaria Market. I told him that I would need his help to get around the shopping as I hadn’t been to this particular market before. As a matter of fact, the one and only time I’d ever visited Aba was about 9 years ago. So I really needed all the assistance he could offer. He sounded happy to hear of my coming over, and gave me his number and directions on how we can get to meet.

When I got to Aba, we met, exchanged brief pleasantries and soon began shopping. By the time we were done, it was too late for me to take myself and my purchases back to where I came from. It was already way past 6 pm and I wasn’t even done with my shopping. So I asked Kingsley if I could stay the night at his place to enable me carry on with my assignment the next day, and he agreed.

We got to his house which he revealed was his father’s property and that everyone in his family had moved out and his father retired to the village, leaving just him and his nephew and some tenants occupying the property.

Things took a downward turn when it was time for bed and I put the moves on him. He became resistant and asked for us to talk. Feeling slight apprehension, I said OK.

And he began peppering me with questions, like how long I’d been into guys and all that jazz. I answered as best as I could, all the while thinking he was just trying to establish grounds for our imminent intimacy. But that thought was shattered when he told me very coldly that he had his boys waiting in the other rooms and that if I made any funny move, he would invite them into the room for them to deal with me.

I stared at him in disbelief, unable to comprehend what was suddenly going on. Before my eyes, he transformed from the pleasant guy, the friend I thought I’d made during the day to this hostile human being who embodied danger for me. This was my first encounter with a situation like this and I was so petrified that when he ordered me to strip off all that I was wearing, I did so without protest. Then he made me sit on the floor after which he began firing questions at me while occasionally hitting me. I was too afraid to fight back, because I couldn’t call his bluff; I didn’t know how quickly he could escalate the situation by involving other guys and I didn’t want to find out.

I scarcely got any sleep that night, and by daybreak, I was exhausted and very dispirited. He went through my handy bag and took the 17 thousand naira that was in it, before moving me to a room where he locked me in. minutes later, I could hear him making merry with some friends of his and I just knew he was spending my money already.

Several hours later, he came into the room for us to discuss my options. He laid them out for me for me to choose: I could either get handed to the police, get beaten by his boys and possibly mobbed by the neighborhood in the process, or I could pay a ransom and be let go unharmed. I was pleading with him to just let me go, but he began lashing at me with a cutlass, and so inevitably, I picked option 3. He asked who I wanted to call to get the money across, and I said my client whose shopping I’d come to Aba to do. The client also happened to be my cousin. He asked if my cousin was gay and I said no. He asked if my cousin knew I was into men and I said no. He then proceeded to give me a story I’ll tell my cousin when I get to speak to him. A call was placed to my cousin and I fed him the story of how I had fallen into a one-chance vehicle on my way back from my assignment and that a ransom was required to get me free. Then Kingsley Ugorji took the phone from me and started speak to my cousin about the required ransom of 500,000 naira to secure my release. When I heard the amount he wanted, I felt even more disheartened, because I knew my cousin didn’t have that kind of money.

He ended the call, beat me some more, and then left the room with me locked in it.

We waited endlessly for my cousin to report back with progress. When that didn’t happen, an increasingly angry and impatient Kingsley Ugorji began to threaten to call in his guys or involve the police. I begged in earnest and all that got me was some more beating. I was spent, cried out and feeling an emotional blackout threatening to overtake me. I knew my cousin could not possibly get that kind of money and so, I prayed for a miracle to get me out of this situation.

And a miracle happened.

Apparently, Kingsley Ugorji’s elder sister, upon the directive of their father, came over to see the tenants and collect rent. Her visit was unexpected and unannounced; she hadn’t let on to her brother that she was coming around. Locked away inside the room, I could not see her, but I heard the siblings interacting, and something must have been off with her brother’s behaviour –or maybe he’d simply been acting cagey around the door to the room where I was imprisoned – because the woman began demanding to be let inside the room. He wouldn’t let her in, but she was insistent, shouting that she had a right to go into any room in her father’s house that she desired. I heard a struggle ensue and then the door was forced open. I caught sight of a bulky woman and three little children behind her, next to a harried Kingsley Ugorji.

The moment she beheld me, bruised and hopeless, the woman quickly bustled her children away, sending them off to the parlour, before returning to know what was going on. She didn’t even bother looking to her brother for answers; she focused on me. I was as afraid of her as I was of her brother, because I didn’t know if she represented further danger for me, and so, I was hesitant with my responses, something she quickly noticed. In a gentle tone, she encouraged me to tell her the truth about what was going on.

And so I did. I told her everything. I was emboldened to tell her everything as I watched the horror deepen on her face. She kept on responding with sounds of one who could not believe her blood had been so cruel to his fellow human being, shooting her brother intermittent dirty looks.

Long story short, after talking to me about “quitting the habit of sleeping with men”, she helped me get out of Aba and away from Kingsley Ugorji. I got home at almost midnight on that day, the 17th of December. Safely home and with my family, I stuck to my one-chance story, which was corroborated by my cousin, and everyone was just relieved and full of thanks and praises at my safe return.

Written by Memoirs