Little Timi- The Story In My Head

Written by Emmanuel Adedayo Ojelade |
Published on:

Aunty Ronke smiled to herself, an explicit urge in her,  a certain kind of feeling,  dangerous.
Not really common but not rare either.
A burning thirst yelling to be quenched, she walked slowly towards her room,  as she unveiled the laced cotton her beyond, somewhat dangerous, silence filled the room.
Timi looked up, to find his aunt standing at the entrance of her room and the parlour were he was playing doing nothing else but staring at him.
Her face unreadable, Timi smiled at her but she gave no response,  she was just there looking at him like a predator eyeing its prey.

Some minutes later the watching game she finally voiced out, with smile wide on her petite face with her beautiful teeth,
She beckoned, “My little Timi!”
“Yes big mummy”, answered the ignoramus
“Come  here dear, come sit on my lap.”

Picking up the candy he had at hand, he lept for joy towards her, looking at her right in the eye with such innocence and stared back at his candy whilst fumbling with it, trying to unwrap it.  With such swiftness,  Aunty Ronke dropped him off her laps and pulled down his trousers.
“Do you want to wiwi? ‘ Timi nodded negative but she didn’t stop there, ‘come let me off you top for you ehn,  its time to go have your bath”
“Mama aff baff for me… “, Timi replied
“Shut up my friend!’ she yelled back intentionally to frighten him, ‘Did mama not teach you to keep quiet each you’re an elder orders you to do something?”
“I’m sorry aunty ronke!”, he concured
She gave no response but started searching the boys thigh as if she was looking for something in particular,  asking him to turn this way or the other till she finally exclaimed.
“Ah!  Ah!!  Ah!!,  what happened to your penis?  Shey mama use sponge for you when she baffs you?’  Timi nods in assertion. ‘ eheen shey e dey hurt you anytime she does? ,  she said as she starts to pull the young boys’s genitals.

Timi nodded sideways to depict ‘negative’ as a tear rolled down his cheeks.
“Weytin do you, kílódé to fí n sunkún(why are you crying), did I or anyone beat you ehn ” she asked angrily,  her tone filled with violence.
“E dey pain me”  (It’s painful)
“E dey pain you like this,  mhm pèlé, óyá lie down okay?”
He obeyed every word from his aunt,  a minute or two passed by like an hour, his aunt on him still deriving a pleasure so strange, he said nothing,  he was just there,  lying under having almost no idea of what it was,  in his mind,  she had beaten him,  hurt him and he was going to tell his dad,  he felt disappointed for he had come there to taste aunty Ronke’s cookings,  he had been eager to come receiving gifts, but here he was being involved in an activity strange to him and we can safely say ‘He was being gifted with pain’.
He knew less of what it was but he knew it wasn’t a good one either.
Aunty  Ronke stood up ad tied her ìró around her waist,  feeling pleasured,  how she wanted in her own way,  there was more to it,  probably. The woman in her mid thirties with her beautiful dark hair, she was a bit pretty but would not pass for beautiful.
Dark in complexion and five feet tall,  well blessed with a woman’s natural gifts,  she kept beards. And for that she always looked strange for it only added a tiny bit to the reason she’s still single, probably.

Timi stared at this strange woman, she wouldn’t be the same woman he knew or was she?, he wondered if there was something wrong somewhere, perhaps his mom had dropped him at someone else’s house,  he was too young to figure it that he had just been molested, too young to figure out that his favorite nice and cheerful aunty had just sexually exploited him.}
She left the room and came back with a look Timi would term ‘wicked’.
“To ba sō fun ēnīkénī nípā oun tó sēlè nibi loni (if you tell anyone about what happened here today)
Do you know death?, she asked rather discourteously,
I mean do you know what it means to say someone died?  Ikú!  Ikú!!  Death!!!
Laying emphasis on the words to scare him ‘do you know death? ” he nodded in affirmation.

“You will die!  If you tell anyone, your dad, mom or uncle, you hear?
I will kill you myself shootigbo!” she yelled.
“Yes m….aa” he replied stuttering and simultenously bursts into tears.
“Good!  Oya stop crying my dear.”  And with that his old Aunty Ronke was back again.
“what will you eat?”, she asked in a mother voice
“Mi o jeun”, was the reply the little one gave
“Auhn so you’re still angry ehn.  Pèlé!
You will now come to my house and you won’t eat anything ehn,  that’s impossible, wait here let me go prepare your favorite food.

Do you want Amala?,  ‘ Timi nodded positive, trying to hide the scars.
‘Good boy! My little Timi, wait for me ehn,
Remember!’ She whispered again. ‘Tell anyone and you will die but if you don’t tell anyone ehn nothing will do you!”
“Okay big mummy”, the dreaded sapiens replied his semi-motherly figure
“Very good that’s my baby boy”, was the devil’s response

The night came and they went to sleep,  perhaps she had repeated it again or not was still a mystery but it sure looked like it wasn’t going to be the last.


Aunty Ronke woke up early the second day to prepare herself and Timi for the day, she woke Timi up for the morning devotion and gave him his bath, amidst playing with his penis.
‘Okó rē keere’ {You have a little penis}
She  would constantly say and Timi would smile shyly.

Aunty Ronke prepared Ègúsí soup with Èbà for breakfast and before 10 am they were at the Gbadegesin’s compound.
“Ha ōmō mi kaabo” Timi’s mom exclaimed as she opened the door for the duo.
“Àbí o!  We are back niyen o, we thought we should give you a surprise ” Aunty Ronke replied the boy’s mother as she entered with him and sits down”
“I thought as much because I remember saying I was coming over to pick him, àbí he was giving you a hard time ni?” (Or was he giving you….)
“Hard time kē, No! You know my little Timi is a good boy, his joy knows no bounds, God has blessed him with such a lively spirit, we had so much fun together, right Timi?” she asked the young boy who only nodded affirmative with  a half smile on his face.
“Even I can see that myself,  with all these toys he brought home and his bulged belly”
“He had Èbà and Ègúsí for breakfast and he had lots of food to his fill yesterday, don’t be surprised if he starts to fart around  the house “, she made a joke out of the
“Hahahaha” they both laughed and Timi stared, looking at  how the two gets along so well or had they planned it together?,  he took his mind off what was bothering it as his dad came in the room
“My son!” he exclaimed
“Papa” his joy knew no bounds as he ran and embraced him.
“Father and child, Sha take am easy o,  we too go soon get married and have our own o,  so stop making us jealous ”
“Hahaha! ‘ he laughed,’ after you shave off your beards.  ” He teased and they all laughed except Timi who only stood there feeling helpless.
The conversation faded away into thin air as the house could be viewed from afar. The morning dusts erupting from the ground.
The birds singing a mournful song.
And life slowly draining away from him.

It was no longer what it used to be, the sound of laughter might never mean the same again.  Timi walked out and closed the door behind him. He stood there as he watched the morning fading into a beautiful chaos.

No one will know and no one might ever understand.
That feeling….
That burning feeling.

The phenomenom that many feminists contemplate is that “BOYS DO NOT GET TOUCHED AS THEY ARE STONG AND MANLY” and I am certain this proves you wrong.
For mothers, boys suffer a lot, but unlike in the case of the feminine gender, we do not really like talking about it, especially because the society makes us pretend to be what we (most) are not, HIGH AND MIGHTY.
You need to let it OUT!
So many boys/guys/men have faced sexual abuse and exploitations too but do not talk about it, why?
The society has programmed us to be ROBOTS, without feelings of hurt or pain neurons, while in actuality, WE ARE NOT!
We also get hurt and need someone to talk to, you cannot fully understand what we GO THROUGH unless we talk about it.

Stay safe and be well.
Make your voice heard.


©Emmiasky Ojex

Copyright ©

Author: Emmanuel Adedayo Ojelade
An author, poet and humanitarian


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