My husband

...Omonoba...
Our people say:
Yoruba: Iná ńjó ògiri ò sá, ó wá ńgbá geere geere sómi.
Eng: Fire burns and the wall does not run from it; now it moves threateningly towards water. - Yoruba Proverb.
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I am thoroughly excited. I feel like a completely woven basket. I feel like I have now put my patterns in place and my aesthetic is wowing. I am living each day gracefully and with faith, while waiting for my sky to get torn apart!
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Today's post:
{From an embittered woman whose mind is made up}

Maybe I am the only one to admit that next time, I will not marry my husband. Infact, I will curse him the first time I meet him. I am frail and too weak to keep fighting. The only one worse than me is one who has sold her soul to the devil. That man is constantly lying and even the children have begun to doubt my owns stories. I have stopped crying before the in-laws because everyone tells me that I am the liar. 'Stop lying, Andah is not like this.' 'What has Andah done to you? Why do you hate him so much?' But I cannot blame them. He sends half of them to school and builds houses for the other half. Seven or eight times now, I have been to the hospital because he laid his hands on me. When the doctor asked, I told him I had a bad fall or an accident or a kitchen pot fell on my head. Clearly, the doctor does not believe me but he seems not to want to dabble in my affairs. And Andah never apologized for beating me. He always told me that he had to correct me or else, I would go astray. If only Andah would gently tell me that he wants to bring home another wife or confess that Comfort has three children for him, I could consider forgiving him. But he is a pathetic liar. You need to see Andah in church, he fits in like a green snake in green grass. But even the cunning snake cannot beat my husband to it. His hymns are the loudest and he knows all the words. 'If we love one another...' But I swore that before I allow the idiot replace me, I will do what needs to be done. Or what are my hands for? So, I could not take it anymore, when before his family and my father, Andah used his belt to flog me for cooking egusi soup again. "...and go back to your father, let him train you", he added. My father, who speaks very little English, did not really understand. So, after everyone left, I boiled water in my biggest pot and gave Andah a good bath, Now, I am sitting here in this cell and I can hear all the in-laws cursing me from outside. I have begged the police men to keep me here because if they let me go home, I may set something on fire. Or someone. If Andah dies and makes it to heaven, let him explain to God why he is standing there. Because he knows best.

{Things people go through; deep sigh*}................................................................


Living gracefully while waiting for my sky to get torn apart.


Bless,
NakedSha