BusinessDay 22 Oct 2017

4 BD SUNDAY
C002D5556 Sunday 22 October 2017
Cover
Abused, rejected, stigmatised
…Tears of Ajegunle teen-mothers seeking second chance
David Ibemere
Cradling her baby, 15-year-old
Janet Vasinica sat on a wooden
bench under the shade of a
corrugated iron roof facing the
door as she welcomed visitors
with a broad smile.
“Bros, I have not seen you before,” she
said in Pidgin English as she noticed me
standing at the door. She still wore her
beautiful smile. I smiled back.
“She is so lovely, your baby,” I said,
pointing at the fair-skinned baby in her
arms as I drew closer.
“Thank you,” she said.
An ominous silence followed.
“Where is your husband? I will love to
greet him also,” I said.
I saw tears well in her eyes as she bent
face downward. The smile in her face
disappeared. She was reluctant to speak
to me.
“I am in Ajegunle to explore the lives
of teenage mothers,” I told her.
Ajegunle, located in the Ajeromi Ifelodun
Local Council Area of Lagos State,
is reputed to be one of the city’s biggest
ghettos.
“I grew up in this area and I have a bit
of an idea what happens here,” I continued
when I saw her reluctance.
She began to relax, the smile on her
face returned, and she offered me a seat.
“You felt sad immediately I asked you
about your husband. I hope all is well,” I
asked, trying hard not to rattle her.
“I never planned to get pregnant.
When I realized I was, I could not tell anyone
or even ask for help. I was ashamed
because I had so many dreams of bringing
my family out of poverty,” Janet opened
up.
She spoke to me in a very light tone
that mirrored her age.
“I would have loved to wait. I have
dreams of becoming a doctor. At school
I was always among the first five. Since I
got pregnant, I have not been to school. I
doubt if I will have the opportunity again.
Many other girls that got pregnant in my
area never went back to school, but I will
love to go back.
“I am the first daughter of my parents.
My mum is a petty trader. After my dad
was arrested for a crime he never committed,
I was constantly refused access
to him, until I met an officer who had
seen me at the police station crying to be
allowed access to my dad.
“He should be above 40 years old, the
officer. He offered to help me, so every
time I needed to visit my dad he was
always available. We became very close
and I was so comfortable around him until
he invited me to meet him at a place. I did
without hesitation. He had been more
than helpful to me, but that day changed
everything for me. We became more than
just friends and I just could not resist him.
“I didn’t even know I was pregnant
until my mum caught me spitting. I immediately
ran to meet Mr Charles (the
officer), but he only gave me money to
go have an abortion, saying he had been
transferred out of Lagos and that I should
never call him again,” Janet narrated in a
tear-filled voice.
Soon after she discovered she was
pregnant, Janet said she decided to run
away from home to a friend who already
had two children. Their relationship
quickly descended into drug addiction
and a strong will to survive.
“The first time I smoked Marijuana, I
felt sleepy. I slept really well. I smoked
more and more just to forget what I was
going through.
“At that stage, I met Abraham, a boy
from the area, although I never told him
I was pregnant. We started a relationship
but his drug addiction made him so
aggressive that he beat me at any small
provocation,” she said amidst tears.
She paused, glanced at some men and
young girls in another shack smoking,
jeering and sucking their teeth. Their
sleepy, yellow eyes betrayed the fact they
were high on something strong.
“Bros, I have suffered! If not for my
mum that later accepted me back, after
I was delivered of my baby, I would
have became a prostitute to survive
after I was rejected,” Janet said with
a sigh.
“As a teenage expectant mother away
from home, I suffered. Sometimes I had
to beg. I even encountered a woman
who gave me N10,000 and promised to
take care of me until I put to bed if I was
willing to let go of the child after birth. I
refused because I believe the child is my
future,” she said.
Not many teenage girls in Ajegunle
have her kind of resolve. Most are selling
off their babies to survive.
“I know a particular girl, Chisom, who
after she gave birth complained that the
suffering was too much. Suddenly the
baby was gone. When asked, she said
the baby died. She packed out after two
weeks,” she said.
An ugly trend
Janet is one out of the many teen
mothers with so much potential that may
never be realized as they are trapped in
a circle of prostitution, early pregnancy,
drug abuse and rejection.
At JMG Quarters, a settlement at the
heart of Ajegunle populated by the Ilajes
who are native to Ondo State, southwest
Nigeria, brothels are a common sight.
Here, girls of different ages display their
skins to lustful men.
At one corner of the street, a shanty
faces the canal. Inside it are bags of
clothes, lots of boxes and a kitchen setup
next to the window. Outside, two girls,
Maria and Doyin, sat breastfeeding their
babies. They were visibly angry as I approached.
After much persuasion, the two the
girls agreed to share their stories.
“I had my first son, Machi, at 15, with
my long-time boyfriend,” Maria began.
“Today I have two sons for him. I came
to Lagos four years ago with three of my
friends – Doyin, Salome and Irene – to
help sell fish. Today we are all mothers,
except Irene whose child died of malaria
at six months.”
Doyin, 18, has two children – two-yearold
Herine and 2-month-old Shane. She
sells bread in the morning and parties in
the evening, she told me.
She was 15 when she met John, the
father of her baby. She has no desire for
school but would like to join a vocation
centre and train as a tailor.
Cry for a second chance
Despite the rampant cases of teenage
pregnancy in Ajegunle, it is often
met with rebuff, disdain, and stigma.
The young mothers are seen as a bad
influence to other girls and are openly
ostracized.
Daina Madu, a resident of Sadik Street,
who got pregnant at 16, is a sad case.
“I can’t tell who the father of my child
is,” Daina lamented. “I discovered I was
pregnant while preparing for my Junior
Secondary School Certificate exams and
attempted suicide twice. I knew it was the
end, because I knew my parents would
never sponsor me, but I could not abort
it. I didn’t want to die.”
She now sells fairly-used clothes for
her parents at the popular Boundary
Market in Ajegunle.
“I am seen as a plague in the family.
My life changed drastically. If only I can
get a sponsor to assist me through school
to pursue my dreams of being a doctor. It
was a big mistake I now have to live with
all my life,” she said.
Chidimma Adaku who lives with a
friend in Omololu Street said that ever
since she got pregnant, she has been
abandoned by her family.
“They all see me as a failure. Daily I
have to fend for myself and my child.
Many people know me in Boundary as a
beggar, not because I am but I have to look
for a way to feed my child. I left the father
of my child because of domestic abuse. I
will love to go back to school but nobody
is ready to train me, so now it is all about
survival,” Chidimma told me as she wiped
the tears streaming down her face.