DEEP INTO THE HEARTS AND HURTS OF MEN

A real story as told by a vulnerable yet  courageous guest writer : 

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Life, Love, Fear, Hate, Hurt... Different words, all four- lettered and among the things that are considered complex; in a way, beyond human comprehension. 
In my life, amounting close to a quarter century, I have experienced the love, then I was thrown into a quagmire of fear, hate and being hurt, before love became a reality again.

Growing up in the village was quite eventful, from sliding down a muddy man-made hill with my fellow boys, to looking after the cattle, to being whipped by that neighbour who saw us throw punches at each other and thought we were into a serious fight while we were simply rehearsing the Jet-Li moves.
Like every other child, I had a dream. 
I aspired to be a successful pilot. 
To be the one that steers that metallic bird over the extensive blue waters, the deserts and into the clouds. 
Besides wanting to be a pilot, I loved the idea of being a clergy. A man of the cloth. From a tender age, I loved being in church, attending Sunday School sessions and singing was my forte.

Everything was great until, the unexpected turn came in teenage-hood. 
From the biology class, once boys hit their teenage years,  they would "break their voice" , they grew taller, more muscular and for the selected few, the goatee would show. 
I didn't fall into the category of that conventional teenage boy. Especially because my voice "didn't break" and I didn't grow unimaginably tall. 
Over time, I made peace with the fact that my voice may never grow deep and I may never be as tall as I envisioned. 
At times, people made fun of my voice, some still do. 
But out of self acceptance, it no longer weighs heavily on me.

Back then, after the national exams, I managed to score highly and was to be admitted to high school far away from home but the folks couldn't afford the expenses and I had to go back to class 8 (not because I failed). Second time around, I still scored highly but unfortunately I couldn't attend the school I managed to be assigned. 
Instead, I got to be admitted to a school near home. 
It was relief to me, at last I would progress in my education life, and my folks wouldn't have to worry much.

Then came my blessing in disguise. 
The board members at church agreed to allow me stay within the church compound. My basic needs were provided for and I did a few tasks; mowing the grass when need be, opening and closing the church windows.
Two months into my new 'home', a clergy man was posted in to help facilitate the general the activities pertaining the church. 
Now that we were two, there would be division of labour and I'd have more time for my school assignments. 
He did help with my academics, occasionally he'd chip in for the school fees as well as with matters of Spiritual growth. That felt like I had found a best friend and a mentor, all in one person. 
Later on, we got acquainted with each other's family. My parents trusted him to be my father figure while I was away from home. His wife was a great support system too. 
He would tag me along when he received invitations to minister in different churches. This definitely sparked the desire to join the clergy some day after school.

On the fateful day, rather evening, we took dinner and as usual proceeded with the evening devotion. Shortly thereafter, he'd bring up a 'counselling session ' on braving challenges that I may be facing in life. You know, navigating through adolescence, making good choices, seeking to be better each day. 
I was grateful for how my life was unfolding, everything was falling into place, and oh, so quickly than I had imagined. My education in place, having a mentor whom I didn't even bargain for. 
So I was now getting ready to drift off to dreamland when the drastic change happened. This was shortly after the pep talk, the most unexpected, inhumane, and beastly thing happened.                                                            The very hands that were a symbol of blessing and protection became a source of excruciating pain. I don't know how, but the  guy pulled down my pair of trousers, pinned me to the wall and my innocence was gone 😢 😢 😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩😩

That night, the guy I trusted to be my covering, became my defiler. A thought mentor to a tormentor. It was the most horrifying and the longest night in my life. 

The worst part of it was that I didn't know what to do, whom to talk to about it. 
I mean, he is a man of the cloth! 
No one would believe me when I told them that I got sodomised by this very man.

As if the first ordeal wasn't scary enough, dude decided to repeat his theatrics on day 2.
In the midst of the confusion, I felt a deep sense of shame and so secrecy became my thing. The less I talked about it (to someone else) the more it happened. Soon enough it would be a lifestyle. I would be lying if I said that I didn't give signs of "go-ahead " to this man of the cloth- turned- defiler. 
On the days when he was away, masturbation became my solace. 
That added to how I got into a spiral of sexual sins. Oh, did I mention that the guy had introduced me to real pornography? 
Thank God smartphones weren't easily accessible at that time and I wish Jabidii made his release of the jam Delete at that time (ati your mom can't access your phone coz upon the gallery there is porn! Porn? Delete!! 🎶 )

A double life became the norm for both of us. We would occasionally conduct church services and still do all that dirty stuff. That was hypocrisy of the highest level. We knew how to act all holy, consecrated to God and sharing His word. 
6 months into the gross yet pleasurable lifestyle, the big guy received a letter from the management. He would be relocating to another church! A sigh of relief that was! But a "I'm-about-to-lose "moment too. 
Left all alone, the guilt was eating into me, addiction was encroaching on, deep hatred was brewing for anything or anyone inclined to the church.
The reality was just setting in. I was abused. He left me for the dead. No other clergyman was sent in his place. 
I was dying to open up to someone. 
I was wasting away. Not only emotionally, but physically too. 
I needed a saving. Urgently.

On a normal day, in the month of January, 2014, I became unbelievably weak, later I'd wake up to a white ceiling and a number of beds adjacent to mine. The nurse explained that I passed out and a good Samaritan rushed me to hospital. 
My body was giving into the intense feelings of shame, guilt. All tests turned out negative. 
I desired for breathe to be snatched out of me. 
On the 4th day of hospital stay, a student nurse came to my bedside. He was friendly and spoke life into my seemingly lifeless situation. He then asked if we could believe in prayer for my healing, I agreed and he prayed. At that moment, something in me was brought back to life. 
I could smile more. I felt that I could fight off the shame, guilt and feelings of bitterness. I could certainly live a better life. Forgiveness could be achieved; for the offender and myself as well. 
I was discharged on the following day. 
*Logan was heaven sent.

Slowly but surely I was able to open up about my ordeal. I sought for help.  Healing became a reality, it wasn't too late for me to rebuild. To collect my broken pieces. To regain my integrity as a man. 
I eventually forgave the man. I hope he sought help for his addictions. 
I began looking at women, not as objects of self-fulfilment , but as God's beautiful creation, worthy of respect and admiration.

Through constantly getting into the Word, understanding how God values and views me and desiring to push beyond the murky waters of my past, I was able to overcome it all. 
To date, I am strongly passionate about Men! I know and I have encountered a number of men who suffer from different issues that weigh heavily on them but they won't open up for fear of being judged. They want to prove that they are men enough and that they can handle it all by themselves. 
Through my pain, God birthed a ministry for men. Through the years, I have had the privilege of being a support system to my fellow men, I have seen them get healed, transformed and their ashes turned into beauty. 
Men! You might not have been raped to have your innocence violated. But masturbation and pornography violate your innocence. Albeit in this case, you facilitate the self-violation. 
It doesn't matter how you got into it, who bought you that first porn 📀! How deep into masturbation you have gotten! How much you have believed the lie that a man got to bed a couple of girls! 
There is hope for you. 
God did it for me. He will do it for you. 
He will wash your crimson red sins and leave you as white as snow ❄ 
He is well able to do just what He says He'll do. Trust Him, allow Him to perform that open heart surgery.

*Logan - Not the real name.

For further details, questions, send them to the blogger's address and it will be my pleasure to help out where I can.

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••The guest writer preferred to remain anonymous.