I was 9 years old when it all started. I was new to life and everything there in. My mother wasn't a wealthy woman. We were considered poor. She didn't have a job and she had five children. I was the first child. I didn't know what was going to happen and I wasn't concerned at all. We lived with my grand mother and my aunties. We lived like a happy extended family. Oh so I thought. For as long as I can remember or as far I don't recall ever having a cake for my birthday or having toys or even the Christmas gifts. I didn't even know about Christmas back then. It was almost like we didn't celebrate it. The was wooden and compared to other wooden houses in those days, it was okay to call it big. It had only two rooms. There were at least 16 of us living in that house. We all slept together without any problems.
   Then there was this one night I was sleeping between my aunty and my uncle and some hand out of nowhere started touching me. I didn't know what to say or think because growing up I wasn't taught about sex. I wasn't taught good touch and bad touch. There I was not knowing what to do just there doing nothing. I didn't stop it because I didn't know it was wrong. I wasn't even aware of the private parts to be hidden and what not. It continued and I told no one. I wasn't a person who would go around talking to people about my problems. I didn't have any friends except my cousins who I didn't know if I should trust. Up to this very day I don't have many friends neither do I trust many people.
      So I was being molested by my own uncle and couldn't say a word to anyone. I didn't know how to feel or how not to feel. I just forgot about it all in all.