Explore Naija
Real stories. True voices. The heart and soul of everyday Nigerians.
by: Chinaza Okonkwo
I used to think I would lose my virginity on my wedding night, wearing white lace, with candles burning and Asa’s music playing softly in the background.
But my reality?
My virginity became a topic of negotiation, like land at Ibeju Lekki.
And the lead marketer?
My mother.
Let me tell you how it all started.
I grew up in Aba, in a two-bedroom flat with seven people. My mum was a teacher, and my dad? Well, he was one of those men that believed he was doing the family a favour just by breathing.
He left when I was 10, and from that moment, my mum became both mother and father. I watched her struggle, hustle, borrow, pay, and pray. We sold everything from okrika bras to second-hand electric kettles.
Despite the chaos, one thing my mother always emphasized was my virginity.
“Chinaza, your virginity is your pride. Don’t allow any man to touch you o. That’s your future. That’s your gold!”
And I believed her.
Until I turned 22.
I was in my final year at UNN, and let’s just say, I knew I was fine. My mirror knew it. The boys on campus knew it. Even my class rep that couldn’t pronounce my name properly knew it.
But I wasn’t just fine, I was focused. I didn’t party much. I was a library babe. But I also started realizing that beauty can open doors.
That’s when I met Uncle Dili.
He was my mum’s old classmate, and he came from London with that his fake accent and potbelly. He said I reminded him of his daughter. That should have been my red flag.
He started giving me money.
It began with 5k for “data.” Then 20k for “textbooks.” Before I knew it, he paid my rent and bought me an iPhone.
My friends called him my sponsor, but I insisted it was innocent. I mean, I was still a virgin. 😇
Then one Sunday, I went home to visit my mum. After dinner, she called me into her room like she had gist.
“Naza, come and sit down. You know you’re not a child again.”
I nodded, waiting for the usual marriage talk.
But then she smiled and said, “This your virginity… let us use it wisely.”
I froze.
“Mummy??”
She leaned in. “Do you know some men will pay millions just to be the first? Hmm? You’re still fresh. That’s a hot cake in this market.”
I laughed, hard. I thought she was joking. Like those times she’d say I looked like Genevieve.
But she wasn’t joking.
She already had a buyer in mind.
Guess who?
Uncle Dili.
The following week, my mum called me again and put her phone on speaker.
“Hello Dili, yes, she’s here beside me. Yes o, still fresh. Never touched.”
I wanted the ground to open and swallow me.
Dili asked to speak with me. He said, and I quote:
“Naza baby, if you give me this gift, I’ll give you a car, pay your master’s abroad, and open boutique for your mama.”
Na so my virginity turn empowerment program.
I hung up the call and stared at my mum.
“Mummy, are you okay?! You’re selling me?!”
She hissed.
“Selling you ke? Am I not your mother? I’m securing your future! What’s the point of keeping it if it won’t bring blessing to this family? We’ve suffered enough!”
I went back to school confused, angry, and deeply sad. For days I didn’t pick her calls. But I also couldn’t stop thinking…
Was she right?
I mean, the money could change our lives. But at what cost?
I cried every night for a week.
One night, I dreamt that I was in a wedding gown, walking down the aisle. But instead of a groom, I met Dili standing with a cheque.
That was it. I broke down.
The next morning, I blocked Uncle Dili. Then I sent my mum a voice note that said:
“Mummy, I love you. But my body is not a fundraising tool. If we will eat garri, let’s eat it with peace.”
She didn’t reply.
It’s been two years now.
I graduated with first class. Got a scholarship for my master’s in Canada. Not from Dili. From hard work.
I forgave my mum eventually. She apologized, saying she didn’t realize how far she had fallen into desperation.
We don’t talk about it often, but she now brags about how “my daughter is pure both in book and body.” 🤣
But that season taught me some hard truths.
Whether you choose to wait, or not, it should be your decision, not a negotiation.
💔 Because once you lose yourself to the pressure, it’s more than just a body, you lose your peace too.
Thanks for reading. If this touched you, share with someone who needs to hear it.