I TOOK BACK MY POWER
“When somebody hurts you, they take power over you. If you don’t forgive them, then they keep the power.” — Diary of A Mad Black Woman
I’m writing this after reading James Saint Patrick’s apology to our community some days ago.
Sometime in 2012, I was at a friend’s, a music producer—Edmund. A friend of his, Osas, had come to record his single. I’d run into Osas a few times in Edmund’s studio and other times in the neighbourhood. And we would always stare at each other. That kind of stare that seemed to ask questions that had no forthcoming answers. Well, apparently, that night, Osas decided he’d gotten his own answer. After some minutes of recording, there was a sudden power outage and heavy darkness descended on us. With Edmund gone to get the generator started, Osas took advantage of the moment. He grabbed my fly and pulled me to him, kissing me. I was so startled by this, that I didn’t react. He grabbed my left hand and placed it on his fly, so that I felt not only how hard he was underneath the material of his sweatpants, but the dampness of the precum that had collected on it.
Nothing further happened, because the generator soon came on and we pulled apart from each other. We said nothing to each other and didn’t talk about it afterward. It was as if nothing happened. I had come to see my straight friend and all I was concerned about was keeping up my situational heterosexuality. However, what stayed on my mind was an admiration of his daring.
Fast-forward to 2015, and our paths crossed again—this was a few days to my dad’s funeral. When we met, Osas brought up what happened that night in 2012. He apologized for what he did, and talked a good talk about how much he was so into me. I was charmed by this. And we became friends. We went out on a date the next day, and throughout the date, he kept on talking about how he wanted us to be together. At the same time, he was also talking about how he really wanted a big break in his music career, and I grasped that he was implicitly asking me to tap into my connections in the entertainment industry to help him. I felt both a fluttering of alarm and disappointment at this, but mentally told myself to calm down. I was not going to be played by this guy, and the only way to achieve this – since I was attracted to him – was to insist on some patience.
We were three days old in whatever it was we were doing, when he began asking for us to have sex. To consummate our relationship. And God knows I wanted that to happen. I needed to bust my nuts, which had been tamed by a four-year celibacy.
But I wasn’t going to be rushed. I wanted to take my time to get into this with Osas. To my thinking, if it was destined to be real, then it could keep.
So, that evening, when I went over to Osas’s place just a day before I was supposed to travel to the village for my father’s funeral (my mother and siblings were already in the village. The plan was for me to join them the next day, Thursday), all I intended to do was to kiss and cuddle with him and talk some more about where we were going with this. Besides, my mother had cautioned me not to disrespect the memory of my father by having sex before coming for his funeral. She actually said that I “must not climb a girl”. And even though I had the wriggle room to shag Osas, since he wasn’t a girl, I took my mother’s words seriously and was determined to not have sex with Osas.
That night, acting on my habitual paranoia, I went over to Osas’s place with no valuable. No phone. No wallet full of cash. Nothing, except for the jellabiya and slippers that I was wearing. Several years ago, someone I knew, a married man who ran a frozen food shop, was kitoed on a grand scale, with his face appearing on the television, the Edo Broadcasting Service to be precise, for months. My mother was one of his customers. That experience, even though it didn’t happen to me, scared and scarred me. And I found myself thinking about it whenever I let in new people into my life. So that night, as I went over to Osas’s with nothing of value on me, it wasn’t because I didn’t trust him. It was simply in my habit to not get that comfortable with people I am just getting to know.
I got to Osas’s place at past seven. We went out, had some beer. We came back at about past eight. While we were in the room, I thought I heard footsteps from right outside the window. There were ten self-contained rooms in the unfenced compound and his was at the entrance. Giving in to my paranoia, I entertained the fleeting thought that someone may be just outside Osas’s room, prying on our privacy.
Then came the time when he wanted to get intimate, and I said no to us going all the way. He was livid when I told him we needed more time to know each other. That I came around so we could just talk, hold each other and sleep in each other’s embrace. I wanted us to be friends first. He didn’t seem to like this, especially when I didn’t seem in a hurry to get out of my clothes and get busy with him.
I noticed his erratic movements to and from his window and his intermittent typing away at his phone. I knew something was out of place but I couldn’t place my finger on what it was. Eventually, he acquiesced and kissed me. We made out for a bit and then we cuddled ourselves to sleep.
Well, I thought we both went to sleep.
I don’t know how much time passed after I shut my eyes. But I was abruptly and rudely yanked from my sleep with a slap. I was jerked awake to find myself confronted with a nightmare. A group of aggressive-looking guys were in the room and Osas was standing with them. It was immediately apparent that this was a kito situation.
Their anger was at a high voltage when they saw that my palm slippers was the only thing they could take from me. That and the bracelet my sister made in her art class, which she gifted me. One slammed the large-size mirror standing in Osas’s room on my head. Another slapped me. Another slashed at my arm with a knife. One smashed my left big toe with a sledge hammer. I can’t even start to recall all the things they did to me; I was in so much pain. Osas kicked me and stomped on me with his feet, so enraged was he by the fact that I hadn’t been the mark he thought I would be. At some point, he began trying to reason with a short, bearded man, who it seemed was the leader of the gang, to just take what I had to offer. But I had nothing to offer.
As they assaulted me, I purposely kept screaming very loudly to alert the neighbours to my distress. Eventually, the whole area was teeming with people, with the neighbours querying Osas: “Even if na homo, no be you bring am come here?”
And then, they – my assaulters – called the police. I don’t think this was part of their plan. I think calling the police was an act of desperation, a damage control strategy, to clear the insinuation of the neighbours’ inquiries from Osas’s reputation. I think they expected they would simply hand me over to the police and be done with me, leaving me to my homosexual fate in their hands.
But this quickly spiraled out of their control when the police arrived that same night, and after hearing the lies they had to say, insisted that there couldn’t be a case without Osas present as the accuser. Osas showed them a dirty vial of Shea butter, which he said I’d come with to use and rape him. They asked how he knew me, and he said we were friends but that he didn’t know I was a homosexual until that night. So much nonsense he said, and the policemen were smart enough to catch on to the irregularities of his lies. And promptly arrested both him and I. His gang swiftly denied him and hung him out to dry.
I was the only one in my cell and at about 2AM, eight other detainees were put inside the cell with me. These eight persons had robbed vehicle owners on that same night.
The night was long, seemingly never-ending. But I was developing a rapport with my cell mates. At some point, they opted to make me their president. And from his cell, Osas heard this and yelled, “Bros dem, that guy na homo. He no fit be una president. That guy be wan fuck my nyash. Na him make me dey here so and I get show on Saturday.”
A police officer, named Ekundayo, snapped at Osas, telling him that if he should hear his voice again, he would throw him into the deadliest cell – whatever that meant. But Osas didn’t stop. He was full of threats about how he was going to deal with me if he misses his show. How he was going to make my life miserable if I didn’t replace the mirror, after I pay his rent for a new place for him as I had smeared his reputation in his neighbourhood. He was actually thrown into the deadliest of cells when he wouldn’t stop shouting.
I was stunned by the venom that was coming from him. Just hours ago, I’d been seriously considering being a thing with this lying, venomous bastard. I couldn’t believe this kind of toxicity had been within him and I hadn’t even noticed.
He was bailed two days later, on Friday morning.
On my own part, I of course didn’t have my phone with me; it was switched off and stashed away in my reading table. The only contact I knew offhand was my mother’s. I gave the number to the police officer, Ekundayo, and he called her the next morning, Thursday, telling my mother that her son was in the police net. It wasn’t long before my siblings started bombarding Ekundayo’s phone with calls, pleading with him that our mother was fighting for her life in a community hospital. My stomach knotted like a fist, when I heard this, and a great wave of guilt beat through me. I made up my mind that if she didn’t make it, I would end my life.
My older brother called an acquaintance of his, a movie industry person — a screenwriter. The man came over to the station and did all he was asked to do, and I was eventually let go on Saturday after the screenwriter parted with a hundred thousand naira. I effectively missed my father’s funeral because of this mess.
As we left the station, the man – who in the course of getting me bailed, had learned of the circumstances of the case – advised me not to tell anyone, especially my family members, the real reason I was detained. And then, he introduced me to Kito Diaries.
My mother recovered, and when she asked me the reason I was arrested, I told her I was nabbed on my way back from a suya joint. She preached her endless sermon of why walking late at night wasn’t good for boys my age. I promised her it was never going to repeat itself.
As for Osas, I wouldn’t see him again for a very long time. But I suffered the consequence of what he did to me for a while.
Word spread, reaching some corners that I was the guy who had gone to Osas’s house to rape him. I was sure he instigated the spread of this malicious talk. My barber heard the story, and one time I went to cut my hair, he made jabs at me, talking about how my phone would be filled with dick pics and how I would soon be on pampers. He was saying this while he rummaged through his apron for my change. I simply turned and walked out of his barbershop without a word and leaving my change to him. That was the last time I went there. Whenever I wanted to cut my hair, it was a journey for me because I would have to drive almost forty-five minutes to a place where I felt my story hadn’t reached.
Plus, I paid a ton of money to expunge my detention from the police records when I needed a police clearance certificate.
All this made me hate Osas.
In November 2017, while driving to an eatery after buying gas for my car, I saw a naked man scavenging through a refuse dump. His bushy dreads were coloured a dirt-brown from, I believe, years of being unkempt. He was clearly a mad man.
And I was shocked when I got a good look at him and saw that the mad man was Osas. It really was him. I was so stunned that I pulled over and began crying. I was wracked with grief as I remembered the handsome man he was and asked myself what happened to him. I’d hated him for so long, and didn’t even realise this until that moment, as I wept. This was when I began to let go of the hate. I forgave him for what he did to me. I forgave him for myself. I had built walls so high, carried rage hotter than hell fire, determined to never get with any guy ever – all because of Osas.
And all this time, I never knew he was as good as dead.
I still hang out with industry friends, and when I mentioned seeing Osas as a mad man, they said things. Some said he was in a cult. Others said it was smoking igbo that made him go mad. Edmund, the music producer, in whose house this all started, said he had just come back from Ghana when it happened, and that perhaps the nemesis of something he did there caught up with him. I entertained some superstition long enough to wonder if perhaps, it was the spirit of my father who had punished him for being the reason I missed his funeral.
Six months later, I saw on Edmund’s WhatsApp status that Osas was dead. A trailer had crushed him in an accident.
And I felt finally fully released of him. And in writing this, I just want to tell the screenwriter who introduced me to Kito Diaries that yes, as you counselled, I took back my power.
Written by Izu Daniel
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33 Comments
Sim
December 06, 07:31The evil that men do- lives with them. Keep clean hands and heart and surely you will overcome.
Just this night, I was narrating to my ex whom lived with me in Abj how a gateman in our then estate whom he used to give money to tried setting me up. I was so pained tht I removed my shoes and stood barefoot in public and cursed him. And no I wouldn’t accept his apologies when he reached out for forgiveness.
Keep clean hands, it pays.
Pink Panther
December 06, 07:37Ahem. How come your ex has this story and I don’t? ?
Sim
December 06, 08:07You will Pinky, I’m terrible at writing lol.
Also abeg who know Silver? Anyone with his/her contact-pls forward.She/He did offer to help out with doing something. …..And Higwe as well.
trystham
December 06, 11:55Just removed shoe? That’s gonna take a looooooooong time even by Karmic standards. You should have just shed tears and spilled a lil of your blood.
I’m hopeful for good news as regards the guard
Malik
December 07, 08:49Oshey! Babalawo with the hacks. Thanks for the tips.
Sworld
December 06, 14:30Lmao @ Sim. that’s crazy, you enter market +T- junction con off shoe curse.
i swear you cannot make heaven. LMAO.
Kito? hmmm!. I learnt that any fucking person(friends, maybe out of curiosity) can set you up. It doesn’t have to be cyber chatting acquaintance alone. I felt OSAS struggled with self acceptance and his evil doing caught up with him.
One day nemesis will come for every Evil one, even when you had repented.
Mandy
December 06, 07:36Good God. The karma working on your case was not here to play. Insanity strike no do, she kuku finished the job with fatal death. Lol. It almost felt like the karma took it personal. Yup. I suspect the hand of your father’s spirit in this. ?
The nerve of this Osas though. The level of scum in him is just really very low.
It’s good you forgave him, Izu. But that was a luxury you could afford when you saw that he had already been thoroughly dealt with by his nemesis. There are those kito victims who cannot afford to forgive because they’re aware that those who targeted them are still living their best lives and still perpetuating their crimes on other members of the community.
Mitch
December 06, 07:48This read was life-giving!!!!
This is what karma should be doing to every single kito bastard out there. Strike them with madness and finally have them either crushed to death by a trailer or burnt to ashes by an exploding oil pipeline.
There’s no mercy for the wicked. Not as long as justice doesn’t take due course!
Limitless
December 06, 08:00Wow! No one can take our power. We give it to them by our actions. This is a compelling story. Thanks for sharing
Beau
December 06, 08:32Been so long i came online, seems i missed a lot but am glad to b back.
This right here, shud b d fate of every kito scum, no one shud bear the pain of kito. It leaves a person scarred for life. Its just that these pple think dey re doing the right thing by doing evil to queer guys not knowing u can’t quench fire with fire.
I pray to the lord Almighty that each one of these scums shud meet their Waterloo. Thank God curse doesn’t take long to have effect these days, curse am, e go dey follow immediately
Higwe
December 06, 08:33Such a shame .
That boy could have had a great life with his looks and talent , but then he chose to end in such an opprobrious fashion .
Forgiveness not only gives us our power back , it also gives us hygge and ataraxia .
I’m happy you chose a life of colours rather than a tenebrific one .
I do hope you forgive yourself too and come to the realization that whatever transpired with the scapegrace wasn’t your fault and you still deserve a chance at happiness .?
Audrey
December 06, 15:03Higwe oh the retreat I talked about is today and I’m so excited.
Can’t believe this people contributed over 400k just to flex and it’s just 15 of us oh.I’m sure going to be in my SLUTIEST behaviour as the office already smells of sex..LOL
I hope I’d have experiences(Good ones oh) that would be worth sharing once this is over.
Izu your CHI obviously fought for you and it’s a good thing you shared this story cos it sure reminds us of KARMA .Cheers
Higwe
December 06, 18:40Please don’t forget to use protection and of course be nice .?
Have fun handsome. ?
Higwe
December 06, 09:00Speaking of talent though .
This should be your Christmas must see movie list :
Joker – Todd Philips outdid himself and joaquin Phoenix is an acting genius .
Malificent : mistress of evil – way better than the first Malificent .
Knives out – A modern day classic .?
Chris Evans is sumptuous .
Harriet – A bit distorted but great film making .
Ford and Ferrari – Christian Bale and Matt Damon outdid themselves .
It chapter one and two – Stephen king in his finest vintage .
Frozen 2 – Not as good as the first IMO but still a delightful watch .
The lion King 2019 – Beyonce’s voice acting was atrocious but every other thing was splendid ?.
Midway – it’s a bit tedious , but still a great movie nonetheless .
Parasite – the best foreign language movie this year (IMO) and a very strong Oscar contender .
Weathering with you – Another strong Oscar contender for best foreign language movie . A delightful watch.
Living in bondage remake – My ex is in it …good thing I have great camaraderie with all my exes …asides that , it’s a great movie .
TV series :
Chilling adventures of Sabrina .
Westworld .
When they see us .
You.
The umbrella academy .
Money heist .
Sex Education.
Our planet .
Dead to me .
Elite.
You’re welcome .? ✌️
Net
December 06, 09:24You should try these ones also
His dark materials
Vagabong (Korean but so good) on Netflix
Hanna
Nobody’s looking (Portuguese) on Netflix
Derry girls(if you like comedy and a funny accent)
Goliath
See
Uzor
December 07, 00:31I’m really struggling to understand what exactly is going on in west world it was cool until like episode 3 where I couldn’t any longer.
Zoar
December 06, 09:19I don’t know if I should feel bad for Osas or not.
Seriously I’m indifferent about the result of his conscious evil choices
Ethereal
December 06, 10:05Hmmmmmmmmmm… Just stunned reading this piece. I think I finally concur to that saying of nemesis catching up with people…
trystham
December 06, 11:45Not just stunned. Disbelief. I’m still looking for the ‘fiction’ part of this story.
Wait, this story has been posted a loooooooooooong time ago, hasn’t it?
Jayswits
December 06, 16:36Your karma is a main bitch?? she didn’t come to play. Your story taught me alot,as I read through I couldn’t help but remember all the times people played me, used me, the high walls I’ve built around me and my resolve to shut everyone out. In my own case, I’ve forgiven, and it wasn’t as bad as yours lol… But I get scared, too scared to let anyone in again.
Chizzie
December 06, 18:51Narratives like these should be directed at perpetuators and not victims. Call it karma, or whatever, the fact of the matter is every one WILL reap what they sow. Its how the cosmos works, if you give out good energy, you will get back good energy.
Forgiveness doesn’t change this nor disrupt the flow. A victim can choose to forgive his perpetrator but the cosmic forces are already set in motion. Being “Born again”, casting and binding, making reformations does not change what is to come. Sometimes it’s not the witches in your village, sometimes its just you reaping what you have sown
This is why this conversation should not be about forgiveness but about making the right choices, always, especially ones that involve another human, another living soul.
So this should be a warning, yes you might get away with it in this shitty country but the universe never forgets
Handsomekiller
December 06, 21:11This story make me wish karma should actually send notifications when it’s done with those mod***ckers……
cuz in order to really move on
you need to know they’re all getting their fair share
trystham
December 07, 10:22????
TRING!!! the boy who accused you of touching him inappropriately just got hit by a car. Level 1 retribution concluded. 15 days to level 2 activation
J
December 06, 23:16So touching, I’m sorry about your sad experience.
T.T
December 07, 00:29So sorry for what you went through.
T.T
December 07, 00:31So sorry for all that you went through.
Uzor
December 07, 00:32Good riddance to bad rubbish in my opinion
Lyon
December 07, 11:49Touche! Life has her way of giving condescending bitches what they deserve. At this point, I don’t feel guilty for not feeling any pity for that karma-slapped ‘ho.
Foxes
December 08, 00:31What a world, wish I could pen down my own story or that of my friend. Karma is really a bitch. He deserves what he got. Wish this can serve as lesson to others.
Mike
December 11, 17:46Well the nigga died, mulled over by a trailer. Before that he had a life long addiction to drugs, he was a drug user even before he met you.
Sorry but that’s not how karma works, but to say you’re not relived that he ended badly would be a lie. There’s something about humans that makes them want to own up to another’s misfortune, take credit for it, hmm na lie, na lie it’s very much a myth, same way Africans need to stop believing in curses. A life would continue in it’s pattern until it either breaks out or get stuck in a loop.
He was already heading towards that end before you came along.
I think I would have enjoyed this better if he were alive, seeked you out and apologized, if he had opted to make things right. Death no be small thing, neither can it ever be a glorious race.
And I dunno if we say he got what he deserved, isn’t what he got Abit too much?, from madness to getting walked over by a trailer. If we call karma here, it would mean that karma is unjust and blind. And nothing about the universe is unjust.
Jared
December 12, 12:22This plays like a movie script oh my God. The whole story is just so unbelievable. And that ending…straight out of Nollywood. Honestly discovering this site and reading all these stories has really opened my eyes to all the possible ways we can be kito’d. The ways it can escalate and its all so scary. I’ve been kito’d once (though thankfully it wasnt nearly as dramatic as this one) but i have been scared to share my story here because in hindsight i was so exponentially stupid i could not even be sorry for myself afterwards. Anywaybi hope God comes through for me like this . I want my nollywood type ending too.
Dexy
December 12, 23:45Yess…
Bishop
December 31, 20:15Am happy to hear how Osas ended is life.bis