SHOCKING: Ogochukwu Onuchukwu - A woman shares her story from the grave

I don't know how to introduce what you are about to read...it's very chilling, quite disturbing, and extremely heart wrenching. If this doesn't make you cry, nothing else will.

A dead woman, Ogochukwu Onuchukwu (she died last month) shares her story and writes a letter to her husband from the grave. I culled the letter from her WEBSITE and wanted to share it because it's something we all need to read and hopefully someone will learn from it. Read it below...

My mum is crying. I can see her from here. She has aged since the last time I saw her. Why does she look so old and why is she so thin? Can someone console her? Can someone make her stop crying?

I try to get up but I can’t. I try to reach for her, but I’m stuck where I am. It is very dark in here, and very cold, so very cold.

What am I doing here? Where is everybody? Where are my children? I begin to panic, to struggle; I want to get out of this dark room.

I can hear Uzo calling. She’s calling my name. Then, I see mum again. And I hear Uzo again. I don’t see my children. Where are my children? I can’t see beyond the walls of this dark and cold room.

This just messed with my head...I hope you fair better. Continue reading...

Uzo calls again.

She sounds desperate to rouse me from my sleep. I am struggling to wake but I can’t. I open my eyes and they shut of their own accord.

I am powerless to keep them from shutting. And I find as soon as I stop struggling, my sleep becomes sweet repose. Suddenly I don’t want to wake from it just yet. It is peaceful.

I see mum again, and I see Uzo. Uzo keeps calling. She won’t stop calling. She is crying too, just like mum.

Can someone bring Kamsi and Amanda to me? Can someone bring my babies to me? I need to hug them, Kamsi, especially. Is he crying too and calling out for me? Does he understand that I am gone? Kamsi will miss me.

He is a special child, you know; Kamsiyochukwu - my son and my first child.

I prayed and longed for his birth. He was the blessing from above that would seal Kevin’s love for me and give me some footing in his home and some acceptance from his family.

Before Kamsi, I was a nobody in Kevin’s home. I was born the last of nine children, the baby of the family. I was used to love and affection. I was everyone’s baby. I grew up knowing that everyone had my back, I grew up knowing the safety and security of being the baby of the home. You may then understand my shock when I stepped out of my home and into new territory with the man of my dreams only to find that I was really not as special as I had been made to believe. I look back to that day when Kevin took me home to introduce me to my new family. The cold and rude shock of the welcome his brother’s wife gave me set off an alarm in my head.

These people didn’t think I was special. In fact, her first words were, ”Kevin, ebe kwa ka isi dute nka?” (Kevin, “Where on earth did you bring this one from?) That would be the first time I would be addressed as “this one” and from then on, I grappled with the realization that I was not welcome in my new home.

I remember my first Christmas at Ihiala as a new bride. My brother-in-law’s wife would sneer and clap and refer to me as “Ndi ji ukwu azo akwu” (the people who process palm fruits with their bare feet). I knew she meant my impoverished home town of Nsukka. She would sing to me all day long telling me the only reason why their brother married me was because of my beauty and complexion.

Now, I lie here and I wonder if I was in my right mind to ignore the several other alarms over my 12- year union with Kevin.

I had to ignore them, I told myself. I had already taken my vows to be with Kevin until death did us part.

They never really wanted me, I can now see. But I was too blinded by love to realize that. I needed to do something to cement Kevin’s heart with mine. I needed to remain Kevin’s wife and to prove to the world that indeed Love would conquer all.

When after one year of marriage there were still no children, the painful journey that sent me to my grave started. I went from specialist to specialist, ingested every kind of pill that promised to boost my fertility. As my desperation grew, so did pressure from Kevin’s family. My horror-movie life story started playing out; the horror-movie life that has sent me to an early and cold grave from where I write this letter to my husband.

*********************************************************************************

My sweet Kevin,

We started to fight over little things. The fights were worse after you visited home or attended any of your numerous family meetings. You came home one evening and asked me to move out of the bedroom we both shared and into the guestroom downstairs. The next time you returned from the meeting, you tied me up with a rope and used your belt on me. No one heard my screams.

I remember when you told me that your family had asked you to remarry. You showed me documents of all your numerous landed property including the house we lived in. Your brother was listed as next of kin. When I asked you about it, your answer rocked the ground I was standing on. You said, “What have you to show that entitles you to any stake in this household?” You were referring to my barreness.

It is funny how to my family and friends, I was the beautiful and loving Ogo, whilst to you and your family I was a worthless piece of rag. You called me barren. I could have fled but your love and acceptance was of more worth to me than the love and admiration of the world outside our home. I desperately sought to be loved by you, Kevin.

In your family’s presence I felt unworthy, unloved and unwanted. Yet, I stayed on. I would make you love me one way or the other and I knew that one sure way would

be to produce a child, an heir for you. That was the most important thing to you.

I began the numerous procedures, painful procedures, including surgery. I gave myself daily shots. At some point the needles could no longer pierce my skin. My skin had toughened to the piercing pain of needles.

After seven years of marriage, our prayers were answered. God blessed us with our son Kamsiyochukwu, which means ‘’Just as I asked of the Lord’’. God had intervened and miracles were about to start happening because for the first time in seven years, my mother-in-law called me. Finally I was home. I had been accepted. I was now a woman, a wife and a mother. Finally there was peace. Kamsi will be four in November.

The miracles stayed with me because 18 months later through another procedure, Chimamanda was born. Her birth was bitter sweet for me. Sweet because you Kevin, my husband, and my in-laws would love me more for bearing a second child, but bitter because this particular birth almost cost me my life. The doctors had become very concerned. You see, I had developed too many complications from all the different procedures I had undergone in the journey to have children and these were beginning to get in the way of normal everyday living. I developed conditions that had almost become life threatening. So the doctors sent me off with my new bundle of joy and with a stern warning not to try for another child as I may not be so lucky.

I chuckled, almost gleefully. Why would I want to try for a third child? God had given me a boy and a girl, what more could I ask for. I was only ever so thankful to God.

Kevin, you and I gave numerous and very generous donations to different churches in thanksgiving to God. All was well. I was happy and fulfilled. Kevin, you loved me again. Your family accepted me. Life was good. And all was quiet again. …………………… For a while.

Then fate struck me a blow. As if to remind me that my stay in your house was temporary and was never really going to be peaceful, Kamsi – our son, our first fruit, my pride and joy and the child that gave me a place in my husband’s home, began to show signs of slowed development; the visits to the doctors resumed, this time on account of Kamsi.

We started seeing therapists. After we’d been from one doctor to another I decided I had to resort to prayer. I was frightened. I was terrified. I was threatened. I started to feel unwell. I had difficulty breathing. I needed to see my doctors, Kamsi too. He wasn’t doing too well either. He had difficulty with his speech. He was slow to comprehend things. I did not know for sure what was wrong with him but I knew all was not well. Not with him and not with me. We

were denied visas to the USA because we had overstayed on our last trip on account of Kamsi’s treatments. So whilst we waited for a lawyer to help us clear up the immigration issues with America, I applied for a UK visa and sought help in London. But by then, trouble had reared its head at home, again.

Kevin, you had again become very impatient with me. My fears were fully alive again. The battles it seemed I had won were again in full rage. My husband, in your irritable impatience and anger, you told me to my face that our son, my Kamsi, was worthless to you. You said he was abnormal. You said that our daughter, my Amanda, was a girl and that you had no need for a girl child because she would someday be married off. I remember, in pain, that you didn’t attend Amanda’s christening because you were upset with me. You told me your mother was more important to you than “THESE THINGS” I brought to your house. You were referring to our children, were you not? “THESE THINGS”.

My heart bled. I wept bitterly. Then I quickly calmed my fears by telling myself that you were under a lot of stress at work and that you were also probably reacting to all the money that you had spent on my treatments. Surely, all that was getting to you? Even when you threatened me with a knife, twice you did that, I still felt unworthy of you and very deserving of your hatred. Even when you would say: “I will kill you and nothing will happen because you have no one to fight for you”, I kept on struggling to get you to love me because, Kevin, your validation was important to me

You had refused to give me money for my medical trip to London. I knew then it was because you had your hands full with caring and catering for everybody who was dear to you. Your finances were stretched. I thought then that in time you would come around.

My health continued to get worse. Eventually, I made it to London. After extensive consultations and tests, I was given a definitive diagnosis. My condition was life threatening. It was from this time, when it was clear that I required surgery to save me life that I came face to face with a different kind of war from our home.

Kevin, you stopped speaking with me. I was in pain, in anguish and in tears. I didn’t understand what was happening. I had stayed three weeks in London and Kevin, you never called, sent a text or inquired how I was faring. You stopped taking my calls. Instead I got a call from my cousin in whose care I had left my children. She was frantic with worry because there was no food in the house for the children to eat; Kevin you had refused to provide food for our children. Kevin, you had also refused to pay for Kamsi’s home schooling.

Then Kevin, I received that e-mail from you. The only communication from you for the entire period I was in London.

Do you remember? It was an angry email. You berated me for putting your integrity at stake at your work place. Apparently your employers had called a hospital in London to inquire about me and were told that no one by my name was ever their patient. I later found out that you had given the wrong hospital name to your employers. Do you remember, Kevin?

For the first time in my 12 year marriage, the alarm bells in my head began to sound real. For the first time in 12 years, I felt real anger stir up in my heart. Kevin, I was angry because you paid no heed to the hospital where your wife was at in London. You had no clue and cared little about what I was going through. Yet you would berate me for putting your INTEGRITY at work at stake. Your integrity was your primary concern, not my health.

Then it hit me! All these years I was trying to be all I could be for you, Kevin, to make you happy, to please you, Kevin, ……… you actually hated me. You didn’t want me in your life. The signs were all there. Your family had showed me from day one that they didn’t want me. I was the object of a hatred that I could not explain. I

couldn’t understand why.

Then I saw the hand writing on the wall, all those many things that went on. You even sold my car whilst I was still lying on a hospital bed in London, with no word to me. I was not to learn of what you had done until I returned to Nigeria. The doctors had allowed me to return to prepare for surgery.

Kevin, do you remember that on my return I gave you a pair of shoes I had bought for you? Kevin, my husband, do you remember hurling those shoes at me? Kevin, do you remember me breaking down in tears? Kevin, do you remember me asking you that night, many times over, why you hated me so much, what I had done to make you hate me as much as you did?

“You are disturbing me, and if you continue, I`ll move out and inform the company that I no longer live in the house. Then they will come and drive you away”. Kevin, my husband, that was your response to me. Did you know then I only had days to live? Is that why you told me that would be the last time I would see you physically? Did you know it would only be a few more hours?

I still had a surgery to go through. Kevin, since you wanted no part in it, I had contacted the medical officer in your company directly for referrals. I left Eket for Lagos on Saturday. That same day I consulted with the specialist surgeon and surgery was scheduled for Monday morning.

In those final hours, as I prepared for my surgery, I was alone, my spirit was broken. I had lost all the fight in me. Kevin, I knew that nothing I did or said would turn you heart toward me, and I had nobody for whom you had any regards who would speak up for me.

In those final hours, Kevin, I called you. This was Sunday morning, less than 24 hours to my death. Do you remember, Kevin? I called you to share what the specialist surgeon had said. I was still shaking from your screams on the phone when I got in here. You did not want me to bother you, you screamed. I should go to my brothers and sisters, you screamed. I should pay you back all the money you gave me for my treatment in London, you screamed. Kevin, did you know that would be my last conversation with you? My last conversation with you, my husband, my love, my life, ended with you banging the phone on me.

Recalling the abusive words, the spitting, the beating, the bruising, the knifing, and the promise that I would not live long for daring to forget to buy garden eggs for your mother, an insult you vowed I would pay for with my life ……., I knew then it was over for me. There was no rationalizing needed any longer. Even the blind could see ………. You did not want me in your life.

I went in for surgery on Monday morning, February 27, 2012, and after battling for several hours, I yielded my spirit.

Kevin, my husband, I lived my promise to God. The promise I made on the day I wedded you.

For better ………………………… For worse

For richer …………………………. For poorer

In Sickness ………………………. And in health

To love ………………………….. And to cherish

Till DEATH US DO PART!

And it has.

NOW I AM DEAD!!!!!!!

Just as your mum predicted ….. Her cold words follow me to morgue. She swore to me that I would leave her son’s house dead or alive. I couldn’t leave whilst I still breathed. It had to be through death, and death it has become.

Kevin, you are FREE! And, so am I.

Your freedom is temporary. Mine is eternal.

Whilst you still have freedom, remember Kamsi and Chimamanda.

Lovingly yours until death,

Ogo.

I am gone. Gone forever. But if one woman, just one woman will learn from my story, then maybe I would not have gone in vain.

My heart weeps for my children, my mummy, my sisters and my brothers, my extended family. These ones, I was a gift to. These ones, they loved me. These ones, they wanted me. These ones, they needed me. These ones, they wish I had spoken out earlier.

***

Written by someone who was part of her life and witnessed her struggles. RIP Ogo.

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Boy Raised From Dead

Residents of Anaji Queen of Peace, near Takoradi, were astonished last Thursday afternoon when news broke that a 2-year-old boy in the area, Kofi Mensah, who got drowned in a septic tank containing water, had been resurrected by one Mama Vero, a spiritualist residing in the community.

According to sources, the tank, in which the boy got drowned, was located in the house of one Ama Aseniwa, Kofi Mensah’s aunt.

The source told Daily Guide that the mother of the boy, Janet Okyere, left her son in the care of her sister and went to purchase some food stuff from a near-by market.

Speaking in an interview with Daily Guide at her residence at Anaji, she indicated that she was cooking in the kitchen when Janet brought Kofi to her house and said she would be back to pick him up.

She later could not find the little boy in the kitchen so she started searching for him.

When she came out from the kitchen, she realized that the roofing sheet that covered the septic tank had been shifted so she quickly ran to the location of the tank and when she looked inside, she saw the lifeless body of the little boy floating in the water.

According to her, at that moment, the secretary of Mama Vero was passing in front of the house so she shouted for help and the man came to their rescue by removing the lifeless body of the little boy from the septic tank.

Ama Aseniwa indicated that the “Good Samaritan” rushed the dead body to the residence of the spiritual mother who allegedly resurrected the little boy from the dead.

Daily Guide gathered that people who heard the bizarre story trooped to the area to catch a glimpse of the resurrected two year-old boy, and Mama Vero who performed the alleged miracle.

According to sources, the woman, on seeing the curious crowd heading towards her residence, appealed to them to rather give all the glory to God because it was the Supreme Being who performed the miracle through her.

In an interview with Daily Guide, Mama Vero, affectionately called ‘Spiritual Mother,’ told Daily Guide that even though she had the spiritual gifts to perform certain miracles, she had never raised any one from the dead since she started operating with the power of God.

She indicated that on that fateful day, at about 2pm, she was in her room mediating when she heard her secretary calling her so she quickly went out.

The secretary, who was then holding the dead boy in his hands, threw the little boy on her and asked the spiritual mother to pray for the deceased so that he would come back to life.

According to her, she took the little boy to “a prayer room and prayed for him until Kofi came back to life”.

When asked exactly what she used to raise the dead, Mama Vero pointed out that in addition to the power of God, she also used herbs and oil for almost all the miracles she performed.

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Man Claims To Have The Map Of Heaven

A self-proclaimed prophet from Mandeni, in KwaZulu-Natal, claims he has been to heaven four times, according to a report on Monday.

Sibusiso Mthembu, 64, said there were 11 heavens and he had drawn a map of them, the Sowetan newspaper reported.

Mthembu said he had his first heavenly journey in December 1998. The other three journeys took place in 2004, 2006 and 2008. On his return, he drew a map of heaven and its residents.

“An angel, whom I later realised was Gabriel, who was in his early 20s, appeared at my house and led me by the hand to the Mandeni River where he baptised me and he returned to heaven,” Mthembu told the newspaper.

He said the same angel arrived in 1998 and this time took him along to heaven. Mthembu said he had seen God, Jesus and angels during his journeys.

Mthembu had written several books documenting his heavenly experiences, according to the newspaper.

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Woman Rises From Death To Tell Husband "I Love You!"

Who says that miracles never happen? Lorna Baillie was declared dead after she suffered a massive heart attack, but astonished doctors and her grieving family when she suddenly came back to life. Relatives of Baillie were devastated when a team of doctors withdrew treatment after spending three hours trying to revive her.

The family gathered around her hospital bed to say their goodbyes after doctors told them the 49-year-old grandmother was 'technically dead', being kept artificially alive only by a combination of adrenaline, electric shocks and CPR.

It was then, 45 minutes later, that Mrs Baillie's disabled husband John, 58, whispered 'I love you' to his wife. As John, his son and three daughters sat beside Mrs Baillie, they were surprised to see her colour gradually improve. A nurse present in the room assured them this was a normal side effect of prolonged emergency treatment.

And when Mrs Baillie's eyelids flickered and she appeared to squeeze her eldest daughter Leanne's hand, the nurse again assured the family that 'involuntary movements' were to be expected. Unconvinced, the family demanded the nurse call in a doctor, who found a pulse and rushed Mrs Baillie to intensive care.

Daughter Leanne Porteous, 31, said: 'I asked the nurse if it was normal that she squeezed my hand and that she had opened her eyes and she said it was. We are so close as a family and we are not the kind of people to just give up. We were telling my mum to be strong. I kept saying to her, "Come back, Mum, come back". At one point my dad said, "Lorna come back, I love you," and then –just like that – she was there again.'

Two weeks later, the former auxiliary nurse from Prestonpans, East Lothian, has even managed some 'high-fives' after sitting up in bed and communicating with her family. Mrs Baillie, a keen gardener and dog walker, collapsed at her home at 4.30pm on February 10. Paramedics battled to resuscitate her before taking her to Edinburgh's Royal Infirmary where, at 8.45pm, a doctor told the family she had died.

Leanne said: 'His words were that she was technically dead, but they had to wait until she had stopped breathing before they could pronounce her medically dead.'

Mrs Baillie's miraculous signs of recovery followed, but medics warned that her chances of survival remained slim because her kidneys had failed and she was in a coma.

The family were still so worried that her daughter Charlene, 23, asked the hospital chaplain to obtain a special licence to allow her to get married by her mother's bedside. But Mrs Baillie's condition continued to improve and last week she was moved from intensive care to a medical ward. An MRI scan recently revealed no obvious brain damage.

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MEET THE FAMILY THAT KEEPS PYTHON AS PET(VIDEO)

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I Hate my Father with a Passion and I want to kill him – Agnes

Please, help me. I hate my father with a passion and I could kill him if given the opportunity, but everybody kept telling me that my siblings and I have no other choice but to take him back and behave as if nothing has happened.

I never knew him when I was growing up. I only knew my mother, she was always there for us; my two brothers and I. She single-handedly raised us until she fell ill and we all thought what she had was malaria, not knowing that she was suffering from dementia.

According to my mother, she met my father, who was then a school teacher while she was studying for her OND at a polytechnic.

Unfortunately, she was sent away from home to live with him. Of course, she had to stop schooling; she got a job after she gave birth to me because she had to work to augment what her husband was earning as a school teacher.

He was also at that time studying for his degree on a part-time basis, so my mother had no choice but to work and supplement his earning. The agreement then was that she would go back to school as soon as I was old enough to be left at school.

Unfortunately, that was not to be because, she became pregnant again before I was two. She also was however not a darling of my father’s family because they felt she came into his life at a time he needed to lay a solid foundation for his life.

This was how my mother began the journey of a miserable life without love and support. By the time my father finished his degree, he got another good job in a bank and the next thing he did was to get himself another wife in the Eastern part of the country where his bank transferred him to.

As a result of this, he abandoned us and our mother. My mother had to go back to her family, but as of that time, it was a little late, as her father, though sick still didn’t want to see her. Her mother tried to help out in her own little way. Her father however died shortly after without including her as a beneficiary of anything in his will and estate.

Her siblings; two of them however did not make things easy for her as they were too greedy to help her. She lived a miserable life. When things became very difficult for us, people advised her to go look for our father. She went and what she found out turned her life around for worse, because she learnt daddy was married to another woman and already had another family.

She fell seriously ill and we all were treating her for acute malaria. I should also let you know that at 15, I met and was impregnated by a man who I felt loved me. He promised to help my family when I told him about our situation. I had already dropped out of school and I had to hawk a lot of things for us to feed,

When I became pregnant, this man begged me to leave the pregnancy. I never knew he was childless until I delivered the baby boy who he and his wife connived and took away from me.

As earlier stated, my mother became very ill and before a Good Samaritan from our church could help, she had already gone deep in the state of dementia and she was taken to University College Hospital (UCH) Ibadan for treatment. We, my siblings and I were then left at the mercy of the church and the duty of fending for my siblings fell on me. We all stopped going to school.

When we could no longer continue paying hospital bills, she stopped taking treatment, we all stayed at the church and lived on the little the church was able to help us with. This was because our benefactor travelled out of the country. She came back a year after and was very disappointed at mum’s state of health. She assisted in transferring her to Neuropsychitric hospital, ARO in Abeokuta. With the little information she was able to extract from mummy during her few moments, she advised that we try to locate our father.

She really helped through her connections. She was able to locate our supposed father. Apparently, he had been sent away from the bank, his Igbo wife left him taking away their two sons. He was left with nothing; he couldn’t come down South for the shame of what happened to him.

He is interested in meeting us, but I don’t want to meet him or have anything to do with him. People think I am arrogant and unreasonable, but I have my life. He cannot just walk back into our lives as if nothing happened after making my mother run mad.

Without him, God has been faithful, so what do we need him for? Aunty Taiwo, please, I need your help. A friend advised that I should write to you.

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I LOVE MY MOTHER,SHE IS PREGNANT FOR ME AND I WANT TO MARRY HER

A Masvingo woman and her son have fallen in love with one another. And now they want to marry since the mom, Betty Mbereko from Mwenezi in Masvingo, is six months pregnant and expecting her son's child.

Mbereko (40), who was widowed 12 years ago, has been cohabiting with her first child, Farai Mbereko (23).

She confirms that she is six months pregnant and that she has decided it is better to "marry" her son because she does not want to marry her late husband's young brothers, whom she says are coveting her.

Betty stunned a village court last week when she said the affair with her son had begun three years earlier.

She said after spending a lot of money sending Farai to school following the death of her husband, she felt she had a right to his money and no other woman was entitled to it.

"Look, I strove alone to send my son to school and no one helped me. Now you see that my son is working and you accuse me of doing something wrong. "Let me enjoy the products of my sweat," she told the village court. :lol:

Farai said he was more than prepared to marry his mother and would pay off the ilobola balance his father had left unpaid to his grandparents.

"I know my father died before he finished paying the bride price and I am prepared to pay it off," he said.

"It is better to publicise what is happening because people should know that I am the one who made my mother pregnant. Otherwise they will accuse her of promiscuity."

But local headman Nathan Muputirwa says: "We cannot allow this to happen in our village, mashura chaiwo aya, (This is a bad omen indeed). In the past they would have to be killed but today we cannot do it because we are afraid of the police." He warned them to break off their marriage or leave his village.

They chose the latter and have left the village for an unknown destination.

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Sheep Gave Birth to Half-Human Being in Sokoto.

On 22 January, 2011, in a government a owned veterinary clinic at Fakon Idi Veterinary Clinic, a sheep gave birth to a monstrous being.

When it was discovered that it was difficult for the sheep to deliver, that was point when the need for the surgeons to carry out the operation. On delivering, the surgeons were amazed by sight of the monster baby that looked half-human.

Garba Aminu, a commercial motorcycle rider, averred: “This is an abomination in our land. To see a sheep give birth to a half human being is a mystery and that shows how terrible some people are. It is unimaginable that some people will be having intercourse with animals.”

Another onlooker, who simply gave his name as Danladi, wondered how such a development could happen in a morally upright state like Sokoto where the Islamic faith is so deep.

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This girl is selling her farts in a sealed jar

Christmas has come and gone, but Valentine’s Day is coming up! Why not present your loved one with the ass gas from a cute blonde?

Yep. This chick is selling her farts in a jar, all tied up real pretty with a bow. Her stank eBay ad states, “I farted by my brother and it made him literally sick. He said I should ‘Sell That Sh*t’ So I decided to take his word for it.

I have been doing research on the best ways to fart in a container and have the smell be just as potent as a fresh fart.” The ad goes on to detail exactly how she goes about letting one rip in a small glass container.

It gets better! Toot McFartyson will also include a photo of herself with the jar of anal air — and the auction is still going on as we speak.

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This Girl Was Raped By Her Cousin But She's Still A Virgin

“I woke very late, very dizzy even his mother noticed and asked me whether I was feeling alright that morning.

I told her I was okay but when I went to the bathroom, I discovered I was wet but did not feel any pain.

I asked him but he smiled and waved it off. I did not disclose to anybody. I just cleaned up.

“I finished my mensuration five days before then. I also wrote my NECO there but left after a week I finished my exams.

I went back to Onitsha, and on the 27th of July, I came to Lagos to my sister’s house. There I missed my period. I told her and she advised that we should wait for some days, saying it might be a shift.”

That was the beginning of the story of Chinelo, a teenage girl who was "drugged", raped and impregnated by her own cousin, Onyeka, when she visited her mother's relative in Anambra State. She went their for her UME exams and had slept on the same bed with Onyeka.

Below is an edited version of Chinelo's story:

Chinelo began to notice symptoms of pregnancy after a month. “A month later, I felt sick. My sister and I thought it was malaria. But what later convinced my sister was when I started vomitting. Our neighbour advised we should go to the hospital.

My sister obliged and we went to General Hospital, Aguda. They even gave me money for the test.

“It was on Sunday, so the lab personnel did not come. We returned home and went back the following day.

A test was conducted and we waited for about 30 minutes. When the result came out, they wrote ‘malaria not seen and pregnancy positive’.

“While waiting, my sister had also taken her sick daughter to see a doctor. I approached a woman sitting close to me to explain the result to me and she looked at me and asked whose result was it, saying it indicates pregnancy. When my sister came, I gave it to her and she asked how come I became pregnant.

“I told her I didn’t know that I didn’t have a boyfriend. She took me to their head nurse who also is a counsellor. She tried to convince me but I maintained my position knowing it was the truth.

They decided to take a virginity test on me with the aid of a machine. The result came out and it was confirmed that I am still virgin,” she narrated.

Then the pressure came. The medical team and her sister probed further and Chinelo broke the ice saying: “I remembered the incident in my aunty’s house and I asked whether if someone was wet without making love could result into pregnancy?

They asked me who was with me and I told them how I saw myself wet that morning when I woke up. I further told them how I drank the juice and slept off. I did not know what happened again.

The medical team concluded that pregnancy could occur without a penetrative intercourse since her virginity was intact. Chinelo became more confused with the whole 'drama', but she suspected Onyeka must have drugged her with the juice she was served after dinner.

Chinelo has already gained admission to study Mass communication at Delta State University, Abraka, Delta State but she would have to suspend her quest for further studies pending the delivery of the baby sometime in March 2012, all things being equal.

The overwhelmed teenage girl is currently taking refuge at the Tamar Rescue Foundation, Lagos, a non-governmental organisation that sensitizes young girls on the menace of s*xual abuse and rape.

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Meet the man who has 39 wives, 94 children and lives in a 100-room house

Meet the world’s largest family. If you’ve ever worried about having enough room for a growing brood, spare a thought for Ziona Chana. 

He has 39 wives, 94 children, 14 daughters-in-law and 33 grandchildren living under the same roof. Home is a 100-room, four-storey house set in the hills of the village of Baktawng in the Indian state of Mizoram.

Even then, some of his wives sleep top-to-tail in communal dormitories. But Ziona doesn’t appear fazed by the size of his apparently happy family - and doesn’t claim any benefits for their upkeep.

‘I feel like God’s special child. He’s given me so many people to look after,’ he said. ‘I consider myself a lucky man to be the husband of 39 women and head of the world’s largest family.’ 

The family is organised with almost military discipline, with the oldest wife Zathiangi, 69, drawing up schedules for her fellow partners to take turns performing household chores such as cleaning, washing and preparing meals.

One evening meal can see them pluck 30 chickens, peel 132lb of potatoes and boil up to 220lb of rice. The compound has its own school, a playground, carpentry workshops, piggery and poultry farms and a vegetable garden big enough to supply the whole family.

Conveniently, Ziona is also head of a sect that allows members to take as many wives as he wants. He even married ten women in one year, when he was at his most prolific, and enjoys his own double bed while his wives have to make do with sharing.

He keeps the youngest women near to his bedroom with the older members of the family sleeping further away - and there is a rotation system for who visits Ziona's bedroom. Rinkmini, one of Ziona's wives, who is 35, said: ‘We stay around him as he is the most important person in the house. He is the most handsome person in the village.’

She said Ziona noticed her on a morning walk in the village 18 years ago and wrote her a letter asking for her hand in marriage. 

Another of his wives, Huntharnghanki, said the entire family gets along well. The family system is reportedly based on ‘mutual love and respect’. 

And Ziona, whose polygamous religious sect has 4,000 members, says he has not stopped looking for new wives. ‘To expand my sect, I am willing to go even to the U.S. to marry,’ he said. One of his sons insisted that Ziona, whose grandfather also had many wives, marries the poor women from the village so he can look after them.

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