When Adesuwa*(44) agreed to take in Maureen* from a struggling family, all she wanted was to help. Over time, Maureen became like a daughter. But years later, when a troubled male relative moved in, it changed everything. What started as a good deed turned into a painful experience that left her with more questions than answers.
This is Adesuwa’s story, as told to Mofiyinfoluwa
In 2015, a family friend introduced me to Maureen*, a teenage girl whose family couldn’t afford to send her to school. They were searching for a household where she could work in exchange for an education. At the time, I had two baby daughters and was struggling to juggle motherhood and my demanding job. It felt like a win-win, so I took her in.
Maureen was about 14. She’d just lost her mother, barely spoke English, and grew up in the village. I enrolled her in a private secondary school close to my daughters’, and she started from JSS1. She was cheerful, respectful, and eager to help around the house. Despite the language barrier, she adapted quickly and picked up English in no time. Within a year, she blended in completely. I grew fond of her, and over time she became like a daughter to me. I’d always felt uneasy about live-in helps because of all the horror stories I’d heard, but Maureen gave me peace of mind. Everything changed in 2018 after my husband travelled abroad for his master’s. Not long after, his sister started pushing for her 28-year-old son, Juwon*, to move in with us. I was hesitant because I knew Juwon was troublesome, and I wasn’t looking to parent another adult. But she convinced my husband that it wasn’t safe for me and the girls to stay alone. Eventually, Juwon moved in.
From the moment he entered our house, I regretted it. He lazed around all day, never helped out, and spent his nights clubbing. He called himself a club guitarist and often returned home drunk. I complained to his mum, but she kept asking me to tolerate him. In his third month, I got Juwon a part-time job at a federal ministry, hoping he’d finally stay busy. He showed up for a while but quit in less than two months.
I didn’t pay much attention to how he interacted with women — not until my six-year-old daughter picked up his phone and brought it to me to help her with a game. That’s when I stumbled on explicit chats with a girl, and that moment prompted me to be more protective of my girls. I warned my daughters to steer clear of his room. I also started taking them along to work after school so I could keep an eye on them. And to reduce the time Maureen spent at home, I also enrolled her in a tailoring apprenticeship.
Then one day, I watched Juwon walk Maureen to the gate from my room upstairs. They were holding hands. I shouted from the balcony, and they let go immediately. When I confronted them, both denied doing anything wrong. I warned Juwon and told Maureen to speak to me if she ever felt unsafe. She insisted nothing was happening.
A few weeks later, I travelled with my daughters to visit my husband for the long vacation. Maureen had to stay back because of her exams, so I asked my mum to move in and keep an eye on the house.
Within a few weeks, my mum started noticing strange things. She once caught Maureen sitting on Juwon’s lap in the living room. Another time, she woke up to pray around 3 a.m. and noticed Maureen wasn’t in her bed. When she called out, Maureen claimed she was using the downstairs toilet — right beside Juwon’s room — even though her own bathroom was upstairs. My mother grew more suspicious and paid closer attention. One afternoon, she pretended to be asleep but tiptoed to Juwon’s room and heard voices inside. When she knocked, he refused to open the door. He claimed Maureen had gone for her apprenticeship. A few hours later, Maureen appeared. When my mum threatened to call her boss, Maureen changed her story and said she’d gone to borrow a book from a friend.
That was the last straw. I called the tailoring school and discovered she rarely attended. They said she was only present maybe two or three days a week. She always said I needed her to help at home. I put the pieces together and realised she was clearly spending those missed hours frolicking with Juwon.
I told my husband, but when we brought it up with his sister, she claimed my mum was fabricating stories to get her son kicked out. I was exhausted. We decided the best course of action was to separate them. My mum left with Maureen, while Juwon remained alone in our house.
As soon as I returned to Nigeria, I went straight to my mum’s place. I wanted the truth, so I told Maureen that Juwon had confessed and accused her of seducing him. Maureen broke down and admitted they’d been in a relationship for over six months. He had pursued her, promised marriage, and convinced her they were in love. I recorded everything on my phone and shared it with my husband and Juwon’s mother.
Despite the evidence, Juwon denied everything, but agreed to return to his mother’s place. I also took Maureen for health screenings, which, thankfully, came back negative. I really thought the worst was over.
But Maureen collapsed in tears when she returned to the house and realised Juwon was gone. She locked herself in her room and refused to eat for days. I called her father to explain everything, but he pleaded with me not to send her away. I agreed to give her another chance, but the next few months were hell.
She started skipping chores and stealing —things she’d never done before. I suspected she was deliberately frustrating me to send her away. One day, I searched her room and found letters where she called me a wicked witch who had stolen her happiness.
I called her father again to come and take her home, but he refused. I also tried talking to Maureen myself. I explained that Juwon had no intentions of marrying her and I’d only acted out of concern. I even brought it our church leaders to counsel her. Still, she kept withdrawing further into herself.
Then, one morning, about four months after Juwon left, Maureen said she couldn’t go to school because her uniforms were wet. I didn’t think much of it, so I let her stay home. When I returned later that day, I found the gate key outside. Inside, the house had been looted. My gold, my boxes, my daughters’ clothes and shoes — everything was gone.
I called Juwon, but he hadn’t seen her. She didn’t own a phone, so I couldn’t reach her. I reported to the police, but deep down, I felt more worried than angry. The next day, I called her father. His tone was cold. He said Maureen had returned that night with injuries on her arms from blade cuts. She claimed I hurt her and rubbed pepper into the wounds as punishment. I was stunned.
He even sent me photos of the injuries; I couldn’t believe it. I’vee never laid a hand on her — not even once. He said she didn’t come home with any of my belongings and didn’t want her returning to my house, even if I was telling the truth. I haven’t heard from her since.
Till today, I wonder where I went wrong. Did I fail her, or expected too much from someone who was still a child in many ways? I keep replaying everything, but know I can’t find peace in how it ended. She broke my trust in a way I’ll never forget.
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