"No Support, No Surrender: A Single Mother's Journey of Courage"

TW: Rape, Sexual Assault,

Life can sometimes be a challenging journey, and for 32-year-old Sarah, it has been filled with unthinkable obstacles. Not only has she faced the trauma of teenage pregnancy and experiencing the heart-wrenching kidnapping of her child, but she has also had to navigate through the painful reality of not having support from her family and the authorities. In this interview, she candidly shares her story of survival, resilience, and overcoming the lack of support from those she expected to rely on.

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I: Tell me how you became a single mother. 

S: Okay [pauses]. I was in the university. I entered university when I was 14, so technically, I was still a child. Two years later, I started dating this guy who was several years older than I was. I think he was 10 or 11 years my senior. I didn't think it was a big deal then, so we started dating, and I became pregnant. 

When I told him, he bought abortion pills and gave them to me. I didn't take them. Eventually, I returned home from school, and my mom tried to drug me to abort the pregnancy. She starved me. She locked me out of the house several times and left me without food. Somehow, I could still go for proper treatment: antenatal, checkups, etc. I gave birth a few weeks before my 17th birthday. There was no support from my daughter's father, and that's how I became a single mom. 

I: Apologies if this is uncomfortable, but you were 16. Why didn't you get an abortion?

S: I don't believe in abortions. I don't support it, except if it is necessary. Necessary, in the sense that if a child has been molested or preyed upon by an older person. Like a father, brother, uncle or caregiver, or some violent incident that led to pregnancy. 

I: Did you ever contact him/his family for support? And was there support from your family? 

S: I reached out to him. He went ahead to tell the whole school, with the help of his friends, that I was a prostitute and I had slept with every guy that said hello to me. His family did not want anything to do with the baby or me. A few weeks before I gave birth, his mother called me. She said she heard that I was pregnant for her son and that she'd like to support me. That was all talk. She never helped me. 

I didn't have any support from my family. I'm an only child, so it was just my mom and me. My mom felt —she told me — that she was too young to be a grandmother, and so there was no support. After a while, though, she stopped tormenting and torturing me. For a few weeks after I gave birth, she was a help. 

I: So you asking him for help led to him slutshamed you?

S: Yes. 

I: I'm so sorry. Did your mother throw you out?

S: Yes, she did. She told me to get out of her house. As I mentioned, she tried to drug me to abort the pregnancy. She shamed and humiliated me because she wanted me to get an abortion. So, um, it was, hmm. When she left the house in the morning, she'd lock me outside, and I'd have to walk [sobbing] to my family members' homes. When I arrived, they, too, wouldn't open the gates for me. When they eventually did, they wouldn't feed me so. Most of the time, [sobbing], it was one of my aunts that would tie garri for me to eat. 

I: I'm sorry for the way she treated you. You deserved better. Would you like to take a break? I know talking about this is tasking. 

S: No, it's okay. I've never told my story to anyone. 

I: Thank you for sharing it with me. How did you support yourself financially and emotionally during the pregnancy?

S: Well, financially, I had the support of my fellowship in school then. Emotionally, I just shut myself down. Like, I chose not to feel things [sobbing]. I decided not to feel anything [sobbing] and stuck to the belief that I was doing the right thing.

I: What happened with your education during pregnancy? Did you continue going to school? 

S: No, I stopped. My mother told me that my life was destroyed already and I did not need to go to school. So I stopped. I never returned to formal university education, but I did get an education. I'm a caterer, an event organiser, and a beautician. I own my own fashion company now, and I have a lot of certificates in business management. So, it's [chuckles] a great thing. 

I: You mentioned that your daughter is now almost 15. You're a veteran mom. What were the early years of parenting like?

S: Well, for me, it was kind of a learning experience. I treated my daughter the way I wanted to be treated as a child, you know. I had a cousin; she's late now, um, during my last stage of pregnancy. She brought this book for me about pregnancy, and um, it was a white people book. White people wrote it. I learnt a lot about how to care for a baby –a newborn baby and, you know, I had –I had a general preview of what I had to go through. So it was easy for me so I could cope? With a lot of the challenges. And, um, it was pretty easy. I mean, I knew–I covered the basics because I read a lot. When she passed the newborn stage, I [pauses] went to get more books on childcare and preschool toddlers. I made her toys because, financially, I wasn't very okay. During that time, my mom lost everything. Everything became terrible. 

I: You said you treated your daughter how you wanted to be treated as a child. How did you want to be treated as a child? 

S: Well, growing up, my mother was very distant. She was this prim and proper person. She [pauses] wasn't the emotional type. She didn't know how to play; she didn't know how to relate to me. So, with my daughter, I was always present. I always talked to her. We always did things together. There was no question I couldn't answer, even when I was exhausted and didn't want to talk. I made sure she always knew she could speak to me. She always knew she could ask me anything, she could call me a million times, and she'd always meet a smiling face. 

I: What are some of the challenges you faced during the early years of parenting?

S: The challenges I faced were[was] more of loneliness. Because of the circumstances of her birth, you know, people treated me like I was a leper. You see, I remember walking down the road, and a woman – a particular woman, was pointing to me and telling her daughter that I was a bad example and she shouldn't be like me. Other women wouldn't want their kids to play with me. They wouldn't accept me at church. 

I remember when, um, I took my daughter for dedication at church. At first, they were like, and they didn't want to– they didn't want to glorify sin. They eventually dedicated her, and they took me to a teenage class. One lady–one of the teachers– saw me, and she was like, why would they allow me in there? Do they want me to corrupt the other girls there? So [pauses, chuckles]  I stopped going to church. I mean, there's only so much [one can take]. I couldn't face isolation at home and being ostracised in public. It was a little bit too much for me. I didn't want my daughter to be exposed to all that negativity, you know. I grew up being timid and afraid, so I tried to raise her to be bold, and I couldn't do that if I was battling those negative emotions. It wasn't easy.

Another thing, I tried to give my daughter the best, you know. The diapers, the food -when she stopped breastfeeding. I did exclusive breastfeeding for her because, you know, that's the best. Many people would walk up to me and be you're doing too much for her. She won't be with you forever. Some would say go and drop her off with her father so you can get on with your life. Some will say that she's a child out of wedlock- I still get that anyways- and I'm treating her like she is a child with both parents, and it's somehow, and it doesn't seem right. So that was part of what I faced. 

Of course, I had to learn to discipline her, which was a bit difficult for me, you know. I had heard all those negative talks, "You're a single mom, you're this, that." I had to make sure that my feelings didn't get in the way of me doing the right thing. I consciously decided that I wouldn't be bullied into, um, feeling sorry for her or letting her get away with things she'd be disciplined for.

I: How did you discipline her? 

S: I'm still struggling with it. You see, you have to understand something as a parent. You have to find that thin line that divides being naughty and being a child. And discipline doesn't necessarily mean beating or spanking. It could mean depriving a child of something, depending on the child's age. Like when my N* was a baby, I made a strict rule. No TV for more than one movie. So she was entitled to one movie per day. I ensured the baby eyes, the begging, the pleas, the bribes, whatever didn't sway me. I made sure one movie was one movie, and I didn't cheat her. So if there's light and she was watching a movie, and the light went off, the movie wasn't finished. I allowed it to finish when they brought back the light. So she is always very comfortable. She always felt that she could trust me. She knew there was a balance. Even when we had visitors, she would watch her movie, and when it was one hour, she'd turn off the TV and say study time. Children thrive in structure. 

I: So, how are you handling the teenage years?

S: Well, the thing is, when N* was 6, my aunt –she's late now, my father's elder sister– stole her away from me, and I didn't see her till she was 13. So. Yeah. It was, um, a dark period for me. But when I eventually got her back in 2021, she was still that child that I raised. She was still disciplined, still calm, yes, much more withdrawn, and very unhappy, but we're working through it. Step by step. She is–was very timid when I got her back. I had to be careful handling her. She was in a really bad way. So I had to be careful. I had to reassure her that nobody was coming to take her away from me, and I wouldn't leave her with anyone, that she was safe and secure with me. We gradually started working through the issues. Because she was timid, she didn't desire to do anything wrong. I tried to be open with her, make her know she was always welcome and she could tell me anything. When she tells me stuff about boys or whatever, I count from 1-10 in my head, take a deep breath, watch my facial expression and try to listen without judgment and then give my advice. I'm very close with her school teachers and admin, so that they can tell me anything, and I can tell them a lot. It's not easy. Sometimes I feel like I'm failing. Sometimes I feel like I'm too permissive. Sometimes I feel like I'm too strict. What I do is avoid hitting her in anger. I watch my words when I'm angry with her.

I: Why did your aunt take her?

S: Taken away sounds like I was sitting with N*, and she came to take her out, no. I was working then, managing a club in VI. My aunt was living on the outskirts of Lagos, and because of my job, she said I should bring her daughter to her instead of taking her to my grandmother. Where I was living then wasn't very conducive. So I took my child to my aunt's place, and I left to resume work. Three days later, everybody had changed their numbers and blocked me on all social media platforms. I couldn't get a hold of anybody. I couldn't get into the estate because they had to call them at the gate to let you in. So I started looking for my daughter. I was terrified. I thought something had happened to her, and they were too scared to tell me. It was the same time I had issues with my mother's family. I eventually ended up in the hospital with heart issues and an uncontrollable ulcer. I almost died because of the stress, and I still didn't know where my daughter was. There was nobody who could tell me. [Sobs]. A year later, my neighbour in Benin called me and told me she saw a child that looked exactly like me. I asked her where, and she said with my grandmother. [Pause]. I called my grandmother and screamed at her. I called my cousins, my cousin– had about four kids then. I was so pissed. However, in doing that, I made another mistake. They sold my father's house and moved someplace else, and I didn't know where to find them. They changed their numbers [sobs]. After a couple of years, about five years, my aunt called me and told me to come and visit her. 

I asked then, "Why would you take my child from me? What did I ever do to you to do this to me?" She said it wasn't her, that it was my cousin. My cousin said it was her mother. Eventually, I could gather that they took my child to replace my late father. They didn't want anything to do with me because of my mom, so they felt my daughter would be a better replacement, so they took her away from me. 

In 2021, my cousin called me and apologised. I went to see my daughter in Benin. Shortly after, my grandmother died. Then it started again. They took her again. They said I had to pay them for all the years she had lived with them. I went crazy. I got soldiers. I called a human trafficking organisation. I told them I would pick them up for kidnapping and child trafficking. They got scared. I went to Benin one day, drove to Benin and came back the same day. That was how I picked my daughter. 

I: So they just took her away from you and went radio silent? 

S: Yes, they did. I would never know the whole story. I would never understand why they did it. The part of me that knows my family knows and feels; they did it because they could. Not for any particular reason, just that they could. They changed their numbers because [chuckles] that was the ultimate. Cut me off completely; since I can't find them, I can't get them.

I: Did you ever file a police report? 

S: No, I didn't. You know, you have to select your battles. I only fight battles I know I can win. I couldn't win against these people. My aunty was this high and mighty, popular, and well-connected person. And who was I? A nobody. I didn't even have my mother to back me up. It was a big-time losing situation, so I had to bide my time. Make myself a better person. Inform myself on what to do and how to do what to do. It was a horrible time. It was an awful time.

I: I'm assuming, at the time, you didn't have access to the resources you did in 2021. 

S: I didn't have any resources. I was just trying to stay alive. I had health issues, and they were getting worse. I didn't have a steady job. I was staying in one of those bachas, these wooden structures they put up in empty lands. I was struggling. 

I: How's your health now?

S: It's better now. Most of it stemmed from emotional and psychological discomfort, and well, it's better now. The heart issue is resolved. The ulcer is there, but not as bad as it was before. That's it. 

I: I know you've spoken to her. Have you found out what happened during the time she was away?

S: Yes, she said she woke up one morning and then put her and her cousin in a vehicle to Benin. She overheard my cousin telling my grandmother my aunt said she was a witch, so she didn't want her in the house.

I: What's the process of reconnecting with your daughter and healing like? 

S: It's slow. It's steady. I had to show her consistency. I had to offer her stability. I had to cut off a lot of people from her life. Like her cousins from Benin, her other family members were trying to communicate with her. Even her father, I had to cut him off because he came with a lot of toxicity, a lot of evil. That's the only word I can use to describe how he came and almost destabilised her again.

I: Her father came back?

S: Oh yes, he did. He showed up in 2021. He claimed that he was sorry and blah, blah, so many stories. I said, "Okay, fine." She started asking him a lot of questions. "Where was he all this time?" When I was trying to get her back, I called him. He said I should go and deal with it, that it sounded like a 'me' problem. I still let him come into her life. 

He tried bribing her. She told me she was beyond that. She wanted to know where he had been all her life and why he was just showing up. I told him, "Since you're here now, we have to split the bills." He started coming up with so many lies. "Oh, Zenith Bank, he can't pay school fees now." So many stories and I was like, okay. He disappeared. I didn't see him, and she didn't see him. We were managing our lives.

He showed up again, and I was like you're here now. You still need to pick up the tabs and pay the bills. You can't just be here however you like. At least, that'll show you're investing in her life. He called me a gold digger. All kinds of insults. He gave my number to his brother, and that one insulted me. They disappeared again. My daughter, N*, said she didn't want to have anything to do with him. She would appreciate it if I didn't have anything to do with him as well. I was like, okay. That works for me. 

After a while, he showed up again. He started apologising. He said he had issues and he didn't know how to talk. I told him, you don't owe me an apology. You owe N* an apology. She refused to have anything to do with her father. He said he would like to meet her. He flew us to Abuja, and that was where we met him. After that, he disappeared again, claiming he didn't have money to pay school fees. I told him, "You have to have money." That is the most important thing. I can't be here breaking my back, and you just show up when you feel like it. You must know that being a parent is not a part-time affair. So, he disappeared again. We didn't see him again until last year. I think around July or August.

He said his father died, so now he knew what it meant to be a father. He wants to be a father. My daughter said she was giving him two weeks. I said alright since you say you want to be a father. That's good. Being a father means that you're doing your best for your child. He agreed. He said he was ready to pick up tabs and all that. So when it was time for school to resume, I told him it was time to pay school fees. He flared up. He said I was a gold digger. He said his father was dead, and he was in mourning. I said, well, your father is dead doesn't stop the world from moving. The school will still collect their fees. My father has been dead for over 20 years. It hasn't stopped me. I don't use it as an excuse to get out of responsibility. He went to get his brother again. That one insulted me as well. They said I should go and take care of my child. That I was begging them, I said you're not doing me a favour; you're taking care of a child. I said this was proof that he wasn't mentally sound because this child doesn't lack anything. You said you wanted to be a father. He disappeared, and I haven't heard from him again.

She told me in December; he texted her with an unknown number. When she asked him who it was, he said, "It's your dad." She blocked his number. 

I: Girl, I know I'm being unprofessional right now, but the nerve. 

S: [laughs] That's even a summary.

I: What's it been like balancing work and parenting?

S: Well, I own my company, so working is easy for me. I work primarily from home, and my office isn't far from my house. While she's at school or asleep, I do most of what I need to do. When she comes back from school, I try to give her as many hours as I can. I got a job two years ago; it was a fantastic job. It was the opening I was looking for, but the hours were terrible. I had to work from 10 am to 11 pm or midnight every day, including Sundays. I went to work for one week, and I noticed that every time I came home, she was still awake. I didn't like it. I quit the job, but it was worth it. 

When she was younger, I used to have a home bakery. She didn't start daycare till she was well over a year old. I had a challenging time at first. The first daycare, by the second day, when she got back home, there were boils all over her body. I had to stop that one. The second one I took her to, we had an incident. I changed her diaper in the evening after we returned, and beads were in her poo. You know, these tiny beads that are always in teddies. There were a lot of them. It seemed like they had fed it to her, or she had swallowed it. Her bum was sore, too. You could tell they hadn't changed her diaper the entire day. I went to the school. I made a lot of trouble and then took my daughter from there. This was back in 2009. It wasn't now that I knew what to do. Plus, it was in Benin. I should've taken them to a court or something. After that, I didn't want to do daycare again.

One day I was going somewhere, and I saw this school which looked proper. I went in, and it looked good. It looked decent. The children looked neat, and they were playing actively. Nobody was crying. They had enough staff on ground. I decided to give it a try. I was paying daily. It was like 500 Naira a day. The only reason we stopped going was that it was very far from my house. It was like 30-45 minutes by bike from my house. So we had to stop. This was around the time I was selling clothes and jewellery. I used to go to offices, banks and all that. 

One day, I was standing in front of a bank. ETB, I remember I was trying to withdraw money. A lady saw us and started a conversation. "Oh, look at this sun; your baby is so cute. Why isn't she in school?" So I told her I couldn't find a good school. So she told me she was working with this new school, a Montessori. They came from Abuja and all that. So we gave that a try. The rest is history. It was fantastic. They would stay till 5 pm. It was close to me. I met a lot of lovely parents who didn't discriminate and look down on my child and me. So, that was it. 

I: What advice would you give to girls your age when you started dating her father and women/girls who just became single mothers?

S: I would advise young girls to wait. I've gotten to find out that life is so much more enjoyable. So much more interesting. There's so much that you can learn, that you can be. There's so much about you that you're learning to be. So why don't you be the best version of yourself before trying to be in a relationship with someone else? 

As for women who just became single mothers, I'll say don't let your past define you. Never be ashamed of who you are because society tells you to be. Being a great parent doesn't mean you have to lose yourself. You owe it to your child to be the best version of yourself. You don't need to pretend to be perfect. Nobody is perfect. I show my child that I can be weak sometimes, unhappy, and sometimes not good. But I can always be me.

I: Do you think there's anything the Nigerian government/society can do to make life easier for single mothers?

S: One of the biggest problems that single mothers face is access to good care for themselves, access to information about child rearing and just general information. Another thing, the expenses are too much. Most of the time, being a single parent is not by choice. Many single mothers aren't financially capable of taking care of themselves. They face a lot of things, and there should be care provided for them. 

I know many people would argue that doing that will encourage promiscuity. The suffering is supposed to be a deterrent to promiscuity.  But, to me, it's not. There would be less infant mortality and stigma if you could raise your child in peace. 

Good education for children is not cheap, especially in Nigeria. Books are not cheap, and nothing is cheap. These are things that should be easily accessible to everybody. But as it stands, only a few can afford it; talk more of single mothers. If the government can make education and health care accessible, it would go a long way.

I: Do you think having a community specifically for single mothers will help?

Just the government cannot make the support system. We have to do it ourselves. It has always been a dream of mine to have a platform with single mothers where we can talk about things, share tips and all that. These things aren't easy because we're all stuck trying to stay alive. We should prioritise taking care of our own. The world is cold. 

The other day I was staying by my window in my guest bedroom, and I heard someone say I should be ashamed of myself. I have a daughter, and I'm busy acquiring properties, spending my money on my daughter and living the way I live instead of looking for a husband. If not that, I have been able to build a support system of other women, not necessarily single mothers, although some are. We've gotten to know each other as a community of women, even though it's not official. I'd have felt bad. We have to do this for ourselves. 

Do you know that I was raped? There was a guy I had been talking to for months. The first day we met, he raped me. He called me a whore, and he raped me. When I went to the police station, they discovered I had a child. They became dismissive. They said I was probably prostituting and just laying allegations against this guy. This is just me. What about other people? Other women have now fallen into mental difficulties because of this. Imagine women who were widowed or divorced now faced with this. 

However, when there's a community, we can come together to stop this. We can protect ourselves. Like it or not, we're one of the most vulnerable members of society. First off, we're stigmatised. Nobody wants to know how you became a single mother and why you became a single mother. Nobody even wants you to tell anybody you're a single mother. It should be a hush-hush thing. We have to come together to stand for ourselves.

I: Thank you so much for talking to me. I do think that community for ourselves, by ourselves, is essential. I hope that when I put it out, many will take something from this. 

S: Me too; I feel heard. Thank you.

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*Name has been changed to protect the child's identity.