Written by: Dr Kemi DaSilva-Ibru and Gloria Joacquim
Dear Reader,
Welcome to the WARIF Survivor Stories Series, a monthly feature where stories of survivors of rape and sexual violence are shared to motivate and encourage survivors to speak their truth without the fear of judgment or stigmatisation and to educate the public on the sheer magnitude of this problem in our society. The Women at Risk International Foundation (WARIF) is a non-profit organisation set up in response to the extremely high incidence of rape, sexual violence, and human trafficking of young girls and women in our society. WARIF is tackling this issue through a holistic approach that covers health, education, and community service initiatives.
WARIF aids survivors of rape and sexual violence through the WARIF Centre – a haven where trained
professionals are present full-time, 6 days a week, including public holidays, to offer immediate medical care, forensic medical examinations, psycho-social counselling, and welfare services, which include shelter, legal aid, and vocational skills training. These services are provided FREE of charge to any survivor who walks into the Centre.
Still, I Rise: Amina’s Journey from Silence to Strength.
My name is Amina. I am 19 years old.
I was born into a family of five, the first child, the big sister, the one who was meant to be strong. My parents are hardworking business owners who built their lives from determination and sacrifice. They travelled often for work, chasing opportunities so my siblings and I could have better ones. Even when they were away, I never doubted their love. It lived in the way they called to check on us, in the things they provided, and in the dreams, they had for me.
For a long time, my life felt ordinary: school, home, helping my younger siblings with homework, laughing at small things. I was a student at my religious school, focused on my studies and my faith. I trusted my teachers. I believed I was safe.
Then one ordinary school day changed everything.
After classes ended, I was asked to stay behind. The halls slowly emptied. The laughter of other students faded. I remember the quiet and how heavy it felt. I remember thinking it was just a routine request.
But it wasn’t.
Someone in authority, someone I had trusted, someone who was supposed to guide and protect me, violated that trust in the most painful way. He forced himself on me and threatened me into silence. I was only a girl, standing alone in a place that had once felt safe. Fear wrapped itself around my voice. Confusion clouded my thoughts. Shame, though it did not belong to me, settled heavily on my shoulders.
I told no one.
The silence felt like a prison. I tried to avoid him. I changed my routines. I prayed it would stop. But he found ways to isolate me again. It happened three times, on different occasions. Each time, I felt smaller. I felt trapped inside my own body. I learned how to smile in front of others while breaking inside. I carried on with school, with family life, pretending everything was normal, but nothing was normal anymore.
Eventually, my brother noticed. He saw the quietness, the withdrawal, the sadness I could no longer hide. For a long time, I wrestled with fear. What if I wasn’t believed? What if I caused trouble? What if everything became worse?
But one day, through tears and trembling words, I told him. That moment changed my life.
My family did not question me. They did not blame me. They stood up for me. Immediately. They took me to the police station and reported the case. I was referred to the Women at Risk International Foundation (WARIF) Centre.
Walking into WARIF, I did not know what to expect. Part of me was still afraid. But something different met me there, gentleness. I received medical care, counselling, and emotional support, all free of charge. For the first time since the abuse began, I felt heard. I felt protected. I felt believed.
Through therapy, I slowly began to untangle the lies fear had planted in my heart. I learned that what happened was not my fault. I learned that shame belonged to the perpetrator, not to me. In group therapy sessions, I met other survivors. Sitting in that room, listening and sharing, I felt something I had lost — belonging. We held space for one another. We reminded each other that survival is strength. That healing, though slow, is possible.
Today, I have been certified medically fit. Emotionally and psychologically, I am still growing, still healing, but I am stronger than I once was. The case is currently in court, and I hold onto hope that justice will be served.
Sharing my story has not been easy. There are still days when memories resurface, when emotions feel heavy. Healing is not a straight line; it is a journey. Some days are brighter than others. But I look at myself now and see courage where fear once lived.
I am grateful to my brother, who saw my pain; to my family, who stood beside me without hesitation; to my therapist, who patiently walked with me through the darkness; and to the team at the WARIF Centre, whose compassion and professionalism reminded me that humanity still exists.
I have dreams again.
I want to become a medical doctor. I want to own an NGO. I want to advocate for survivors of gender-based violence and stand in the gap for girls who feel voiceless. I want them to know they are not alone. What happened to them does not define them. That healing is real.
I am more than what happened to me.
I am strong.
I am healing.
And I have a future.
*Real name of the Survivor changed for confidentiality
Dear Survivor, please know that you are not alone, and it is not your fault. Help is available. If you have been raped or know someone who has, please visit us at:
The WARIF Centre
6, Turton Street, off Thorburn Avenue, Sabo, Yaba.
Or call our 24-hour confidential helpline on
0800-9210-0009
