One of my traumatic Childhood Streets


That uppermost apartment was where we lived with our mum at the time. I remember vividly the day I packed my brother and I up and got our dad to drop us off there. I was bigger and bolder by then and had had enough of living with him and his wife of a typical ‘stepmother attitude’. Only my cunningness had saved us so far. I knew we were not going back there again, and although we never discussed that, I guess dad knew or never cared by then anyway.

That apartment was 2 bedrooms and oh we were a typical African family in there. Mum, kids, aunty, cousins and all. There was so much love, joy and fun until one fateful night!


This was our oga Landlord’s church. It’s actually next gate to ours, and opposite our balcony at the same time. Imagine the noise and action and even people you saw or who saw you! One of such people was a wayward son of his who probably escaped any exorcist powers his dad may have claimed to had.

I knew he was up to no good, and I hated the way he and his friends looked at me when I walked the street. Neither were their sounds any funny. One fateful Tuesday night, while I was in another city with my elder sister, that guy and his gang broke into our apartment at around 2 am. They even had women in their gang. They turned the house upside down and stole even food. The women tried Mum’s clothes and hats, taking whatever they wanted. It was raining cats and dogs and needless to call any police!

It was then that this guy started asking for me. He said he wanted to teach me a lesson. My dear brother who thought he could man up to this guy, stood up but immediately got a slap which sent him sleeping for several more hours into the next day.

When they left, mum knew we just had to leave that neighbourhood.

I also remember our Nigerian neighbours below with whom we had formed a family. They had lost their dad in that same apartment. All in all, it became a haunted street, and even our favourite cafeteria below, couldn’t take me back there for a long time to come!


So on my return home last month, I went back there to face it and purge it all out of me.

Thanks all for reading.


5 thoughts on “One of my traumatic Childhood Streets”

    1. Yes Katelon it took me lot of courage. I webt by that street and took those pictures over 2 weeks ago but I couldn’t bring myself to blog about it. It was after a small nervous event yesterday that the strength and urge came to purge that one out. Thanks for your comments and likes always

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