THE SOCIALITE

..My childhood memories are full of smiles and laughter. I was doted on by everybody, and never lacked. I was shielded, protected from the harsh realities of life. My mother was a socialite and to her, life was all about status.





When my mother married my father. It was a week long affair. From her gown, to the cake, decor and food. It was the talk of the country (or so she claimed). Then I was born. My parents were over the moon. Every aspect of my life was documented. I even had a centrefold picture in three national newspapers on my first birthday. I was a princess in every sense of the word.



Mother made sure I had the best of the best.


 From nannies to preschool. She even arranged play dates with the "right" peers for me. Even as a child, my popularity was mother's priority.


 Nothing was left to chance. Luckily my parents made more than enough money to fund the lifestyle.



When I was old enough to make choices, I followed mother's lead. By the time I was ten, I had mothers who wanted their children linked to me, kids who searched for pictures of my latest outfit, who made the same hairstyle as I did, and even tried acting like I did. By then, I had three other siblings, and they trailed after me.


I was shipped abroad after primary school, to attend boarding school, but I might as well have bee in Nigeria because mother made sure no one forgot me, thanks to the internet.



I came back to Nigeria for summer holidays, just before I was to resume university, and here I am with an animal panting and sweating over me. How did I get from being a famous socialite to a victim of rape? How did my life go from bling to sting? I closed my eyes, trying hard not to cry out..... Not to give my assailant the benefit of my tears, so I do what I have been doing for the past week. Close my eyes and relieve memories, in my head, I go to all the places in the world mother made sure I visited.



My head was my saviour. I lay still, and let whatever animal that was taking his turn have his fill. I pretended I was safe and at home with my family, pretended I couldn't feel every thrust, every drop of sweat, pretended that the stench around me didn't exist. Mother always told me to make the best out of every situation. Every moment, I wondered what mother would do, how she would handle the situation.



I knew exactly what mother was doing. I knew that she would be making the best out of my abduction, she would have created hash tags that would be trending on all social media. She would give press conferences, cry a few tears for the cameras, but stayed strong. Made phone calls, entertained guests that came calling and made sure the family stayed in the lime light as usual.



But what would mother do..... How would she cope in here? I needed to know, it was driving me crazy thinking about it. Mother never had to go through this, I was going through it because of mother, her popularity, my fate, being born by a social climber. I was pushed to the top, made to attain a status, and look where it landed me. All because of Mother.

I had been at the mall in search of a dress, I had tried on lots of dresses and was exhausted. I was on my way home, when a truck swerved into my lane, I heard the screech of tires, was dragged out of my car and thrown into the truck, a blow to the side of my head and lights out.



The first few days were a horror. I wondered how much ransom I was worth, would I be killed? Would I be raped? I got the answer to the later soon enough. That was the last thought I had before the disgusting animal was pulled off me.


I hurdled into a ball, afraid to look, afraid to hear. A fight ensued, and I got the whiff of cologne. Then a gentle hand on my arm, I shifted away.


"Its okay, you are safe now" Those were the sweetest words I had ever heard.



I got back home, and mother made the most of it. No one was to hear of my ordeal, I was kidnapped and that was all there was. I gave inspiring messages on how to survive, written by mother, who had never had to survive. I was made spokesperson of an NGO, gave speeches online and offline, on a schedule made by mother.



No one needed to know about the nightmares, crying myself to sleep, being frightened of a man's touch. It didn't matter. All that mattered was what the world saw.... The smile of a survivor.





IVY BROWN





LIFE IS A CHOICE  MY FRIENDS
SO CHOOSE WISELY
ENOUGH SAID