“Guess what, he said he wants a divorce!”

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Good morning again Lovelies! I got a Daily Post prompt yesterday, which read “call someone, or ask the person next to you what he/ she is thinking, and write about it!” My first thought was what?! And then, I burst into a feat of giggles as I dared myself to take on the challenge.

So I called! And she said, “Guess what, he wants a divorce!” And I’m like “Halleluyah, but what?!”

While it might have been so much more fun writing about what we discussed, I am a little angry typing this post out. I don’t get it, that some men can be so damn insensitive and too old for reasoning sometimes. Okay, this is a little gist about the issue on ground. It’s a typical rich wife, struggling hubby story, and as you would guess, hubby feels so threatened that his wife is thriving. In fairness to the woman, she tries! She is one very generous and giving woman who hates to see the people around her in need. So she just gives, even without expecting a dime in return. She pays the rent, fuels the car, buys foodstuff for the house once in a while, and just about keeps the house running. Just so he doesn’t feel less than a man, she consults him on things and asks him for money for basic house needs – not because she doesn’t have it, but just so he can feel in charge!. She buys him clothes, and gifts – so he looks good!, she pays his tuition fees – dude is yet to bag a proper degree!; but the silly lot that he is, just writes off all the debt he owes to a never- ending tomorrow. She works 8am – 5pm, and so does he, but he’s too much of a man to help around the house. No, I don’t get it. I just think it is grossly unfair!

This goes on for a while, and a cute baby comes along. There’s even more responsibility! Diapers, school fees, baby upkeep, plus the usual rent, clothing’s, foodstuff and all! But hubby is still blinded by hate to step up his game. Wifey still pays his tuition, takes care of rent, takes care of his parents and hers, provides for the baby’s needs (except baby milk and diaper which she has refused to add to her long list) and makes life a little worth living for all of them. Who better than he thanks God for having such a capable wife, and prays to be able to own up to his responsibilities one day so he can pay her back and feel as he should, a man! Yet, all he would do is go to work, come back late (claiming he is not responsible for the traffic on the road), expect already made dinner when there is the baby to care of after a long day at work and he won’t even offer to take care of the baby while she rustles something for them to eat. Osiginni?! I shudder at the thought, and hurt for she who is on this spot! Why?

After a long time overdue, wifey decides enough is enough! No more loans or bad debts, especially because most advances/loan he takes remain unsettled for a very long period of time, until they’re forgotten! No more paying of his school fees, no more birthday gifts (it’s bad enough that during wifey’s birthday, hubby will always say ‘alert never chow!‘ and for the life of me, I can’t believe he almost rendered the same excuse on his son’s birthday! Bhet why!), no more buying of clothes for him (if he can’t buy for wifey and baby, at least let him buy for himself), infact, the list is so longgggg!!!!!

And while we are still thinking, trying to find a reasonable and tenable explanation to hubby’s inhumanity, he wakes up on the wrong side of the bed one bright day, with a dead soggy brain, and says he wants a divorce, simply because wifey said enough is enough? Oh yes, please bring it on! You won’t be missed!

*sigh! It’s sad, more for the little one, than even the mother involved. But hey, if he files that divorce, i’ll be the first to congratulate her!

And so once again lovelies, she said “guess what, he wants a divorce”, and I said “Halleluyah, but what?!”

__

To y’all going through this kind of trouble, or something similar oe even worse, I say the Lord is your strength!

**

© The Short Black Girl, 2015.

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Red Rage.

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He came home last night. He had been away for a month, leaving me and the kids without a dime. I didn’t know whether to be angry, or happy as I heard him pull into the compound. I had been thoroughly worried about him the past days, calling and texting him without response. I feared something might have happened to him. What will I have done? Where will I have gone? He would have made the trouble much bearable if he had told me where he was going in that note he stuck to the Fridge before leaving that Sunday evening… but then, it didn’t matter. He was home. I hurried to the kitchen to rustle up something for him to eat. That’s a wife’s duty after all, to cater for the husband in good and bad times.

In thirty minutes, the table was set yet he hadn’t come upstairs. I looked through the window by the dinning room to find him seated in his car in a relaxed mood, holding his phone to his ear, laughing so gaily about something only he knew. A laughter I hadn’t heard in a long while. I strained my ears to pick his voice over the generators loud hum…

Mama, iyen o ki n se problem na. Ma to pada wa, e ma wori.

Mama? I felt a tear drop from my weary eyes. He had been with his mother all this while? Yet she gave me no clue all those lonely nights I called to seek her advice? What responsible mother allows her son leave his own home, wife and kids, to suckle from her sagging breasts after every long day at work for a whole month? He had come in now, his presence dusted with whiffs of alcohol. I shook my tears back and played the nice wife… for a few seconds.

Ekaabo.’

Ekule o. Where are my kids?’ he settled in the dinning area.

I turned to the wall-clock, it was 11:00pm and he was asking where his kids were? I chose to ignore the question. If he cared, he would have been home the past days instead.

‘I made you Eba and Efo.’ I said in reply, and turned to get him some water to wash his hands with before he asked any other stupid question.

Soon after, he had finished the food and appreciated me with a loud belch and stinking fart which both happened fast, that I wasn’t sure which came first. I swallowed it all and just mused on how a man I loved and adored so much had now turned to the insensitive bastard I could only manage to harbour. The atmosphere was laden with so much hurt and anger and hunger too. I was hungry, I hadn’t had a proper meal in a long while because he didn’t leave any money and I was saving the remaining soup that I warmed that evening, for his return. I deserved some explanation, I thought, so I broke the ice.

‘Where did you go ‘Laitan?’

He stopped fiddling with his phone and spared me an accusatory look.

‘What do you mean by where did I go? Work, of course!’ he spat.

‘Olaitan, you went to work for almost a whole month, from Sunday evening up until this Friday evening. You didn’t call, you didn’t text, you didn’t reply my calls or texts, you didn’t leave any money and you know I don’t have a job to cater to myself and the kids. Olaitan, Olaitan… is this life?’

‘Don’t start o, this woman! Let me breathe please, ‘ve only just returned.’

Tears poured down my face and my empty stomach started to wail too. It was too much to take in all at once. That was what I got for worrying over and about him for a month, in his conscious absence.

‘Olaitan, you make me cry everyday and I can’t but wish you the same kind of pain you make me feel. Olaitan, I am hungry. I haven’t had a proper meal all this time, and you know I am a nursing mother. Bolu is just 2 months old, have you forgotten? Olaitan, your children missed you. They cried to sleep every night because you were nowhere close to throw them into the air after a long day. Olaitan…’ I racked in sobs, as my voice trailed off but he just sat there wearing a stone cold face after which he stood up angrily and made to get his car keys. I crawled after him, holding on to his legs.

‘Olaitan Oribogunje, you are not leaving this house without me and my children!’ I screamed a little too loud.

‘Bukunmi! Bukunmi leave my leg. Bukunmi leave me o.’ he dragged himself on, pulling my fragile frame with him but I didn’t let go still. Toke had woken up now and was staring in horror. She cried, but I didn’t know if she was mourning her lost sleep or sad for me. Either way, I shared her pain.

‘Do your worst ‘Laitan! Do your bloody worst but you’re not leaving this house without us!’ I yelled. What more pain could he possibly inflict on me? I was numbed by weariness, too tired to feel anything more. Then he started to punch me and drag me by the hair, slapping me everywhere he could lay his palms on. I screamed to the neighbours ‘hhe…elp me! Help me from this bloody bastard I call a husband! Egba miii o!!’

‘Daddddyyyy! Daadddddyyyy!’ Toke’s screams tore at my heart and that seemed to strengthen me because only then did I start to fight back. I ran to the kitchen to grab a knife and threatened him with it. The neighbours had begun to knock on our door now but we were too absorbed in our own little world to care.

‘You’ll either kill me today or come back to your senses!’ I spat breathlessly, burning with red rage pent up from too many past years. He carried a chair and made to fling it at me, while I raised the knife in readiness awaiting his strike. That was when Toke made for the door in one swift movement because her eyes couldn’t take it anymore and like a flash before my very own eyes, she fell to the ground in a pool of blood.

Everything went stark quiet in that second. I dropped the knife quickly, and raced to my child. ‘Toke! Toke mi! Akanke! Toke!’ she wouldn’t respond. By then, Olaitan had already walked out of the house and started his car downstairs. Afraid, guilty, or ashamed, I couldn’t care why he left. The neighbours poured in now like flood, running here and there trying to revive her. But I knew she was gone, because the instant I held her, I knew she saved that last gaze for me, telling me to be strong. I wailed in my head, but I didn’t have the power to cry out.

That was a second or so ago.

I am too tired now. My soul retires. But before I slump to the ground I note that time has well passed. It is 12:00am and it is Valentines.

_
‘Mama, iyen o ki n se problem na. Ma to pada wa, e ma wori.’ – Mama, that is no problem at all. I will soon be back, don’t worry about it.

‘Egba mi o!’- Please help me!

‘Ekaabo’- Welcome

‘Ekule’- Response to welcome.

**

© The Short Black Girl, 2015.

A girl’s thoughts- who do I marry?

You know, I’d love to go on. I’d love to damn the consequences, and go for what my heart wants. I’d love to fight for my love, because that’s what people always do. And each time they did, they won. Yes! Those people in the mushy love movies I’ve watched, like, ‘Kuch Kuch Hota Hai’.. Where Rahul fought for Anjali at the latest hour, and still somehow won. But you know, all of a sudden, somehow, the reality dawns on me.. ‘M not Anjali, or Rahul,.. ‘M real, in the real world, no cameras, or casts.. So I must not be deceived!

I know what I need, I know what I want.. These two things stand so far apart, yet they collide. God had always known there’d be conflicts between needs and wants, that’s why he gave us the brain to act as an arbitrator, or mildly put, a mediator. But what if it doesn’t suffice? If it adds more to the turmoil, who takes it from there? I guess that’s where YOU come in.

Here’s the case.

I want Emeka, but everyone thinks I need Ifeanyi. Emeka is a short fine man. He’s the MD of his father’s brewery. At his young age, he’s got a lot of money, a helicopter, 10 jeeps, 4 limousines, 28 mansions, and yeah, estates to inherit when his father dies. He is the only son of the richest merchant in his town. So you can imagine how I’ll never have to worry, ever again in my life for nothing! Asides that, I just like him. He’s got this play- boy personality that so tickles my fancy. You know how they do!

Ifeanyi is a tall, dark, handsome, maybe-too- nice gentleman. The 5th child of comfortable parents and a graduate of Agricultural Sciences and Fishery, teaching Elementary Agric till he has enough money to start up his farm. He’s a fine man by all standards, with an amiable personality and a gentle suave smile, but on days when he takes me on a date and the sun gets so hot, neither his smile nor personality is able to keep my skin from its scorching darkening effect. And I begin to wonder, how long will this go on?

You see, some facts may appear wrongly to you, so I better clarify them now. I do not love Emeka for his money. I love him, wealth and swag rolled into a ball, and thrown into a trash can! There are things about him I can’t explain to you but I pray you’ll understand. Have you never been here before? You love the bad guys, and hate the good ones? Well, I’m here now. Watch me live my own reality.

Who am I? Pardon my manners! I am Sandra, a single 28 year old banker, from a comfortable family. I am very comfortable myself, so I won’t necessarily be needing some dude to take me to places. There’s no place I wanna be that I haven’t been to. If you find a guy who ‘d take me to heaven though, please holler!

So here’s the deal, I am not particular about marriage. Left to me, I’ll take my time to sort the shafts from the real deal if only people will leave me be. But thing is, ‘m under pressure. Mama wants to see her grand children, Dad says he loves me but can’t bear to keep bumping into me each time he’s walking down the passage way to his room. I understand, don’t I? But they don’t understand!

I have been seeing Ifeanyi and Emeka for about a year now, without them meeting each other for once, at least not in my presence. (Tufiakwa, Heaven forbid that!) I met Ifeanyi first, and introduced him to my family as a ‘friend’ before meeting Emeka, whom I instantly fell in love with at first sight; but I’m yet to introduce him to my people, even though I’ve dined and wined with his family severally. I love them both honestly, but can’t marry them both sadly. It is at points like this, that you have to give way to mentality!

I know it’s very simple, the decision I have to make. Rather, my brain thinks so. ‘Leave Emeka, marry Ifeanyi’. You’ve known him longer, plus your family thinks he’s THE ONE. Have sex, make love, and give birth to handsome and beautiful nerds with goals, and ambitions, and a little too much ‘niceties’ to their attitudes. Picnic of Pork, and Palmwine every Sunday in the Farm house. Perfect family! But is it really that easy? I know Emeka drinks and smokes, and Ifeanyi doesn’t. In fact, they’re plain opposites of each other. But truly, my heart craves for Emeka.

Okay, if I decide to follow my heart, and leave Ifeanyi, for Emeka. ‘ALERT! ALERT!’ My brain screams day and night. ‘He can’t love you like Ifeanyi would.’

You don’t understand, or do you? Ifeanyi doesn’t possess all I dreamed my man would. He possesses the dreams, passion, strife, zeal, determination, looks, but not the kind of sexuality I want in a man. He isn’t spontaneous. He hardly makes an attempt to kiss me when we go on dates, he doesn’t linger on my cleavage like Emeka does. He just makes me feel like ‘m not attractive at all. Is he sterile, Or just being a gentleman still? You see, for me, that’s some boring detail!

I want a balanced relationship. Not too much on one side, and too little on another. And really, I haven’t waited this long to settle for bullshit! Maybe I can teach Ifeanyi to love me like I want him to, but can I teach him to not be impotent if he already is; or rather, Emeka to stop drinking too much, at least not when we go out with his friends so that he doesn’t speak too much gibberish that no one even cares to listen to?

Sexuality, and Romance aside, Marriage is a life- long commitment. You should only marry someone you can always be happy with. Someone you can manage with, when there’s nothing to live on, or no one but yourselves to depend on. Wealth wouldn’t guarantee you happiness. But when poverty streaks to the bones, you forget what it means to smile, you forget love, and then its quarrels and battles, and ‘shebi I told you not to marry him’ stories… Or maybe not.

I am not in a hurry, but ‘they’ are. So who do I marry? Emeka or Ifeanyi? The one my heart is after, or the one my head screams for?!

**

© The Short Black Girl, 2014.