He is handsome, the kind of handsome that makes head turn. He is rich and dresses well. He is always seen wearing a smile as though he is smile-spell bound. His shoulders? Those biceps that makes him look as if he does nothing better than he gyms.
You like him. Everybody does, children especially. But, you say he has a flaw. You say he is wicked. You say he is heartless. You say he is possessed and that he is a ritualist. I tell you that it is more than a flaw, that it is an orientation. I tell you that he needs help. You call me stupid. You say that it is his fault. You say he is to blame. You keep calling him wicked. You point accusing fingers on him without pausing to hear him out. Not giving him enough space to defend himself. Not wanting to find out who else may have been involved.
Was he the one who asked his parents to marry each other? Was he the one who asked them to decide on having five children? Did he ever tell you that he wanted to be the last of their children? Did he ask his immediate elder brother to be five years older than he is? Did his mother tell you that it was his decision that his other siblings go to boarding schools?
His parents needed someone to help take care of him while they were away. They needed someone who would bring him back from school, give him lunch, help him do his assignments, wash his clothes, watch over him till they were back from work and then of course, do other chores.
That was how Ebube came into their house. Ebube took good care of him, better than his parents imagined. Ebube treated him as a brother and a friend. Ebube loved him so much and he loved Ebube.
Ebube taught him something. Better still, Ebube made something of him. He practice what Ebube taught him and become who Ebube made him, you raise an eye brow, you push blames on him, you give him evil looks and curse him and call him wicked. Ebube had taught him how to love and feel for children, both boys and girls. Ebube made him a pedophile, yet you blame him.