How A 24-Year-Old Man Fulfilled An 85-Year-Old Virgin Woman’s Last Wish.
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The Price of Grace: A Virgin’s Last Wish and the Village’s Reckoning
The air in the quiet rural village in Oyo State, Nigeria, carried the scent of wood smoke and fried akara. Here lived Funke Aimobi, whom the villagers called Mama Funke, though she had no children. At 85 years old, her back was bent from decades of labor, and her eyes, framed by wrinkles, held the story of a life defined by poverty and sacrifice.
What no one knew was her secret ache: Funke had lived her entire life as a virgin. She had spent her youth raising her siblings after her parents died, working in farms instead of marrying. By the time she was free, the young men had looked past her. Her womb was as silent as her compound.
One rainy evening, as the thunder rolled like drums, Funke whispered her confession aloud: “Before I die, I want to know what it feels like to be held, to be touched, even if just once.”
The Stranger and the Sin
The next day, a stranger appeared at the village market. He was Sei, a tall, slim mechanic, no more than 24 years old. He noticed Funke struggling with her heavy basket of cassava.
“Mama, let me help you,” he said gently. Surprised by his kindness, Funke watched him carry the basket to her hut.
Sei visited again, bringing palm oil and firewood. He sat with her, listening to her stories, his youthful presence bringing life back into her compound. But the whispers in the village grew louder. Women muttered, “Why is that boy always in her house? Has the old witch bewitched him?”
One scorching afternoon, Funke finally broke. Her voice shook as she confessed her truth to Sei: “I have never known a man, not once. 85 years and I am still a virgin. Before I leave this world, I want to know what it means to be touched by love.”
Sei froze, shock written across his young face. He had thought she was merely lonely. Now, he realized her final wish pierced the core of her existence. He looked at her soul, laid bare, and knew he stood at the edge of a decision that would change both their lives.
The Storm of Shame
Before Sei could decide, Mama Beeji, a sharp-tongued neighbor who fed the village gossip, spotted them. “So it is true! This young boy has been coming here. Mama Funke, have you no shame?”
The compound erupted. Villagers gathered, their voices rising in a storm of judgment. They laughed, shouted jeers, and muttered about “abomination” and “witchcraft.”
Sei stood in front of Funke like a shield. “Respect yourselves! This woman has done nothing wrong! She is only my friend!”
But Mama Beeji’s voice cut through the air: “What does an 85-year-old woman have to offer you if not sin?”
Funke fell to the ground, sobbing, the shame heavier than any sorrow.
The village head, Baale Akinwale, emerged, demanding silence. He listened to the conflicting claims, then delivered his decree: “The honor of this village must not be stained. From today, Sei must no longer enter your compound.”
Funke fell to her knees, clutching the Baale’s garment. “He is the only one who sees me as human! You cannot take him from me!”
The Baale pulled his garment away. “Respect must be preserved. It is settled.”
Sei’s mother, Iya Sei, then stormed into the compound, her eyes blazing with fury. “Sei, have you lost your senses? You want people to say my son is sleeping with his grandmother? If you curse her, you curse me too!”
But Sei refused to yield. “Mama, I cannot abandon her. If they call it shame, then I will share it with her.”
Iya Sei left, casting a dangerous glare: “A man who spits against the wind will have it return in his face.”
The Ancient Test
The shame soon intensified, fueled by Chief Aladipo, one of the wealthiest and most feared men in the region, who had an interest in maintaining his social control. Aladipo declared the situation an abomination that threatened the village’s honor and demanded a public resolution.
At sunset, the entire village gathered at the square. Funke, frail and trembling, confessed her virginity again.
Chief Aladipo, standing beside the Baale, thundered: “Truth or lie, it does not matter! What matters is perception! We must act now!”
The elders decreed that Funke must face the Ancient Test: the path of fire and water. If she was innocent, the spirits would preserve her. If guilty, she would be consumed.
At dawn the next day, the village gathered at the sacred grove. Funke was dragged toward the fire pit.
Sei rushed forward, positioning his body between Funke and the flames. “If you will throw her in, then throw me in too! If she burns, I burn with her!”
The crowd gasped. Mama Iyeiti, the oldest woman in the village, leaned on her staff, her voice sharp with spiritual fire. “Do you not see, people? This is not witchcraft. This is love! Would a bewitched man choose fire with open eyes?”
Just as the fire roared, a sudden, powerful clap of thunder split the sky, shaking the grove. The flames bent under the rush of wind. The crowd screamed and fell to their knees. “The ancestors have answered! Mama Funke is innocent!”
The Baale, shaken, delivered the final verdict: “The spirits have judged. Mama Funke is innocent. This matter is ended.”
Aladipo’s power was broken. Funke and Sei walked free.
A Love That Defied Death
In the quiet aftermath, Aladipo continued his campaign of ruin, spreading vicious lies that Funke had bewitched Sei with blood charms. The lies eventually led to a final arrest warrant for witchcraft.
Sei, however, was resolute. He faced the angry mob with the same courage he showed at the grove.
Finally, in the privacy of her hut, Funke looked at Sei. “My son, my heart is full. Not because I touched what I longed for, but because I was not buried in shame. You gave me that gift.”
Sei looked into her eyes. “I will fulfill your last wish, no matter the cost.”
That night, alone in her hut, Funke held the man who had risked everything for her. She knew a fleeting moment of deep, true connection—the human warmth she had longed for her entire life. It was a love bought not by wealth or beauty, but by sacrifice and courage.
At the moment of her passing, a faint smile touched her lips.
The next day, at her burial, Mama Iyeiti spoke over her grave: “Let this village remember. Shame does not kill, but cruelty does. And love, even in the strangest form, is no abomination.”
Sei stood over her grave, his tears falling freely, his eyes filled with resolve. “Your last wish is fulfilled, Mama. You are remembered.”
He stayed in the village, a quiet testament to her courage, forever honoring the woman who was finally seen before her last breath.
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