SBM Reader: Poverty Drove Me into the Arms of a Sugar Daddy, Now I’m Doomed [PART 1]

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My name is Kudirat Adebisi, a native of Idumagbo in Lagos Island. I am the 18^th child of a polygamous family. My mother was the last wife and there were only four of us from her. The story I am telling you, happened to me and I am telling it so that someone could help me or advice me on what to do.

          My father was the landlord of our family house. He rented almost all the rooms in the building including every available space in front of the house to traders. The two rooms he left were where he lives with some of his kids. He had twenty eight kids from four different wives and he could not take care of all of us. He only managed to pay our school fees while it was left for each woman to take care of the other needs of her children. My mother moved out of the house and rented a two-room apartment in the same area where we lived. My father’s first and third wives were late. Their children were scattered all over Lagos. Some were bus conductors, some agberos and some still in school. The second wife had divorced my father long ago. Her kids lived with him, although the female ones were all married.

Survival was not easy. My mother sold ‘mama put’ in front of the compound where we lived. My brothers and I would help in washing dishes when we came back from school. It was mammy’ as we called my mother, who provided us with all our needs except school fees which we could go to daddy’s house to collect. Most of the time, the jobless old man would claim that his tenants had not paid him. We had to stay out of school until money was made available.

"He didn’t even want any issue from me. How could I end up like that"

          It got worse when I got admitted into Yaba Technology. My school fees were not regular, no textbooks, no provision. Mammy would always complain of no money. I had to borrow from friends. I had to squat with a friend, Ronke. It was Ronke who introduced me to the fast lane. She is a girl from a rich background but what drove her into the fast lane business is another story for another day. She had boyfriends who paid her rents and school fees, despite the fact that her parents are well to do. Ronke knew how to play the game of men and sex. She gave me some of her skimpy clothes because I had none initially. We went to virtually every night clubs in town to hawk sex. We would sleep with various men in exchange for money. Call it prostitution if you like but we call it ‘runs’. Moreso, we were using what we had to get what we wanted. That new way of life bought me textbooks, clothes, paid my hostel fees and even game me my meal tickets.

          We were not only patronizing the clubs alone, we also went to parties popularly known as ‘owa mbe’ in Lagos. I and Ronke became famous in no time. It could be naming ceremony, burial ceremony, birthday parties, name them. We didn’t need any invitation to be in any party. If we heard of any party coming up, especially on weekends we’d be there. Seeing us in native attires and gele, one would not believe that we were not related to the celebrants.

          We were often mistaken to be the celebrants. When it was time to dance, we would dance until our legs ached, all to get attention, to get a man attracted to us. Most times, we’d succeed in getting hooked up, some other times we would not be very lucky. Mammy noticed the changes in my lifestyle but she never complained. She was happy, at least, that relieved her of the financial burden.

          It was at one of such parties that I met Chief Win-Seunfunmi Adebayo, a Yankee citizen, a rich man who turned out to be my Sugar Daddy. Ronke had brought the news of the naming ceremony of one of the big shots in Lagos. The venue of the party was Aquatic Hall, on Toyin Street. That was all the invitation we needed. We went to Idumota market and bought very beautiful and expensive Lace materials with shoes, bags and gele to match. We made the same design and really looked like twin sisters.

In the middle of the party, Ronke got hooked with a man, they disappeared in the dark, leaving me sitting alone. That was when someone came up to me.

          “Hello, pretty” a male voice greeted.

          “Good evening sir,” I greeted the middle-aged man. He was a fat man, clad in an over flowing agbada.

          “Your sister said you were lonely. Can I keep your company?” He said

“My sister?” where is she?” I recalled Ronke. “Where is she?”

          “She’s with my friend.”

To be continued

Note: All names used in this story are fakes because of security reasons. However, the story is sent in by a reader who really needs advice and help. For further information, you can contact the Editor.

Thanks as you contribute your advice and comments. Have a blessed day and weekend