Walls•

The thing about walls is that men or people who ruin your wall(s) may be unaware of their powers. You have or had your wall in place, comfortable and protective, and they come along and make you tear down. They don't know. You tell them. You say things like... "I've not let anyone in in a while" "You got me feeling things I have not felt in forever" You even go as far as saying... "you build down my walls" Yet they don't know. You are them for some other people too so don't be all high horse and innocent here. Just learn to start hearing, and discerning enough to know when to believe, and how to act, or react. Ask yourself, do you want to be the wall breaker? Can you handle all the power? Most times you probably do not want to be the one breaking into her defenses and getting so empowered, so you don't get it when you are told that you are, you don't get it enough to ask any question at all. Anyways, I met a guy. We never met in real-time but he built down years worth of walls...and then it ended so fast, the walls came back up and they came with extra thickeners. And this brings me to why I write... He is still the one in my fantasies, I can't shake him off my wanks. I do everything but I won't cum, try as I may. He always has to show up and tell me he loves me. Then he rams me...mostly from behind...at his office desk... Then I cum. 💦 ❤️

Undone

I touched her and got every fiber of my being set ablaze.

This girl who has got my attention.

She is intrigue. An uneven blend of fir

e and ice. I want to sit on her face and I want to kneel for her.

She is nervousness, she is calm, she is my undoing.

I want to sit on her legs astride. Naked. Grinding away in ecstatic abandon. 

I'll grab her neck, kiss her, our eyes locked. I'll make her moan my name.

This girl who has got me thinking of her more often than I'd like.

Bits and Pieces

I miss being in love with you. I miss believing in endless possibilities with you. I miss the silly things. I miss the embarrassing moments we made into inside jokes. I miss the I love 'yous'. Haha, I know you see what I did there. I miss the feel of you aching against me, wanting me. I miss those very gentle eager nods between my thighs as you press your hips on mine. I miss how you'll kiss behind my ears and sigh as one who has lost every will to regain control. I miss how you let all of you go, and you become an extension of me. I miss how you desire to please me, toes first. I miss how you know I love it wild, yet gentle. I miss how you say yes ma'am, in that voice drenched in lust. I miss wanting you, taking you. I miss owning you.

Broken Record

Before my friend became my first University boyfriend, he told me how he falls in love every day. I thought it was silly, love is not that fickle. That was twenty years ago.
I may have changed my mind because I have friends who may think me a broken record at the rate I fall in and out of love. Could love be fickle or am I just falling into nothingness disguised as love?
My great love two years ago was Monday, my friends couldn’t possibly hear the last of it, we went everywhere together, even when with my girls.
Last year it was Tuesday. He probably was a rebound and did not last as long as Wednesday. We did like same movies and laughed at same jokes, he really got me. He was easy.
Wednesday ended last month, he was always the life of the party, a charmer. Every girl wanted to be me, the relationship was a trophy.
Today, my friends are not so excited to hear about Thursday because I am a broken record who will fall in love with Friday tomorrow.

I Am Woman: Balance for Better

I am woman.
I have had highs and lows, thorns and roses. I have cried and laughed, mostly laughed. I have danced and mourned.
I have strength and yet I get weak a lot.
I've been hated on, but I have mostly been loved.
I have made friends and I have lost some.
I am woman:
Assertive, resilient, adaptive and human, always human.
I have had it easy because I am woman, and I have had to work twice as hard to get just half as far as my male colleagues.
I have fallen, more times than I can count, but I rise, I always rise and push on. I am woman.
I am intelligent, smart, and stupid. The stupid get lesser and lesser as I learn and grow.
I am beautiful, inside and out. I have been called stubborn and kind, talkative and blunt, all of which I will not apologize for.
I have been married and divorced. I have had and lost and found again.
I am woman, I grow and glow.
I can be intimidating and sometimes cowardly.
I have fears, some I hide too well even I don't see them anymore until they hurt me.
I have love, sometimes I'm afraid to give it, but this is an easy fear to conquer.
I have dreams, some may never happen, but I will never stop pushing as long as I have life.
I live! I do what makes me happy, hurting no one, lifting those I can.
I have scars, some you see, some you feel. Some are mine alone to see and feel.
I am woman. I nurture, I motivate, I support, I lend an ear or two to other humans, because just like me, we all get weak and we all need a little lift, a little smile, a little reassurance, a little warmth, to know we are not alone.
I am woman: It is my life's work to create balance for better.

Happy women's day to my fellow phenomenal women.

TAKEN LAUGHTER

I was a girl so full of life, energy and dreams.
I had goals that seemed unattainable to most.
Until I became a woman.

I had the loudest laugh, I was nicknamed talkative.
I was that child loved by all for the energy I bring.
Until I became a woman.

I was dressed in a single wrapper around my chest.
Made-up with lovely white chalk designs and adorned with royal beads. Me and other girls my age.
We were about to become women.

The cut from the blade took away my voice.
The screams from the other girls turned my dreams to mares.
Laughter was taken from me.
The day I became a woman.
-Ttonia.

#endFGM
#endChildAbuse
#endCuttingGirls

DOMESTIC VIOLENCE #Leaving

“Why wouldn’t she leave?” is the most popular reaction you get from people when they’ve just heard another story of wife battery. This is actually a better reaction to that of stories of women who left marriages, “she should have stayed and worked things out, build her home”.

Leaving an abusive home is not as easy as some would think. A lot of factors contribute to a woman’s hesitance or inability to leave her abuser.

One of the reasons women are unable to leave abusive homes is upbringing- the way girls are raised in our societies. Many parents raise us in such a way that it is imprinted in us that the successes of our homes are our only mission in life. A failed marriage therefore means failure for the woman.  So instead of leaving, she keeps giving up pieces of herself, losing herself, changing and tweaking, anything to stop the abuse from repeating. But the abuse repeats again and again, making her to make more changes...she gives up her friends, her family, her voice, until she is a ghost of herself who says things like, I can't live without him...if I don't provoke him, he won't beat me. OR if he doesn't love me, he won't beat me.

Another reason is religion, especially the Christian religion. The "phrase till death do us part" said as vows are exchanged has claimed many lives prematurely. Divorce is frowned upon heavily by majority of Christian leaders and some of them encourage the victim to pray harder, cook better and sex more often to keep her husband happy and save her made in heaven marriage. The "hear from God" craze among Africans as regards picking a spouse doesn't help. How can a woman leave a man she has advertised as "God's will" for her? Would she tell the members of her world she isn't sure anymore it was God who spoke to her? Trivial as it sounds, this is a strong reason many stay on.

Fear of injury and death is another reason victims of Domestic Violence stay with their abusers. These abusers threaten to hurt and kill their victims if they think of leaving. They say things like. "I love you and I will kill you then kill myself if you think of leaving me". Sometimes, they say these things between punches or slaps on their victims. A lot of times, perpetrators of Domestic Violence have made good their threats by hunting for and harming their spouses who had somehow made it out of the door. This fact further serves as a deterrent for those thinking of leaving their abusers.

Coincidentally, someone who just left her abuser walked in just as I was compiling the above written reasons; I have just returned from “speaking out” for her. Like her, most women do not leave their abusers early enough. Their major reason (not the only) being finances. They do not want to leave without the children and they do not want to be faced with the reality of taking care of the financial needs of both the children and themselves. Mostly, they are scared they would be unable to earn enough to give the children the life they are accustomed to or keep them in their current schools. This is no small matter considering the fact that women work twice as much as men but earn twice as less (at least approximately so).

Methinks that women do not leave for one major reason; they have been gradually reduced to become less than who they were created to be. The subtle but frequent and seemingly harmless critique he gives to her even before marrying her, the alienating her from family and friends, the passive aggressive way of telling her that nothing she does is ever good enough, and the reminders, however false, that she is nothing without him. These add up to make it difficult, nearly impossible for her to make a life saving decision to leave her abuser. It takes a whole person to take a step as big as leaving a spouse. Her inability to take this gigantic step is because she isn't a whole person anymore, it is NOT because she is stupid.

FADING HOPE

Our hope is getting dimmer as the sun sets.
We had springs in our steps and loud brags about the power of our votes.
Now we whisper to one another, the possibility that we may never hope again.

We were optimistic as we chanted "change"...The Nigeria of our dream so real we could touch it.
So we marched with our thumbs, powered by our cards. And we voted to bring our dreams to live.

There were promises, some we weren't too gullible to believe. Like a Dollar to a Naira in a year...we weren't fooled. Yet we hoped for change and for change we voted.

Our hope is getting dimmer with every sunset, but with every sunrise we await the News still. Hoping to find therein, something to rekindle our hope.

Selky, the POOR girl

Selky! selky!!

The poor girl heard her mother call out loudly.

She ran as fast as her legs could carry, wondering as she ran if she had done something wrong.

There by the stool she found her mother grinning, “Selky my daughter, Aunt Ralia will take you away from the hardship of the village to the sky lights of the city.”

All she had to do, her mother told her, was to be grateful.

Selky! Selky!!

The poor girl heard her aunt call out loudly.

She ran as fast as her legs could carry, wondering as she ran what she did do wrong this time.

There on the sofa she found her aunt fuming, “you stupid child, I rescued you from a life of hardship and plan to put you in a school but you are good for nothing.”

Selky wasn’t sad, now she is grateful and hopeful.

the POOR girl

You see her gathering burning coal from the neighbour’s fire. 

You know she is about to make her own fire.

She has to cook water for her brothers to bathe and have some meal.

While the fire burns, she is bent over, sweeping her father’s compound;

Ever so careful not to wake her brothers from their restful state.

You will be moved to pity her for she is only an 8 year old child.

She cooks and cleans and waits on her brothers.

She is a girl child for whom there are no plans for education.

But don’t pity her. No. Don't pity her for the reasons you've so far come to know - Because she is happiest in the mornings while she cooks and cleans and tends.

Because the morning liberates her from the terror of the night; for at night she is worried about the rough big hand that goes up her skirts.

She is scared about growing up; more like terrified.

She recalls too well what happened when her sister was declared “grown up”.

She remembers loudly the screams from her sister as she was being sliced from childhood to womanhood; her genital cut and sewn to keep her “chaste, beautiful and worthy of a husband.”

This girl child is terrified most of all about marrying her father’s friend, a choice she has no voice in. 

The poor girl’s worry, you must know, is that her father's friend chews too loudly.

MEMORIES

It is rather uncanny and almost always a certainty that an event is remembered differently by witnesses. In whole, it is usually the same story retold by these different witnesses but the details, the tit-bits, are usually different. The beautiful butterfly perched nearby at the time might be the first thing I remember when asked to recant, but until I mentioned it, you had completely forgotten it was there, that you had admired it dismally.  The first thing you remember is the shock you felt at my rapid mood swing.

Do we choose what we remember? Or do our memories come from what is most important to us? The story we recant from memory may not necessarily be all we remember but the part of it we want to share, or the detail we want our listeners to focus on, usually to buttress the points we favour or that favours us. We carefully leave out parts of the details we wish didn't happen and recant the bits that sound good to us and as we’ll hope, good to our listeners. If we embellish long enough, we may start to forget the truth of what really happened.

Memories can cause damages. Serious irreversible damages especially in relationships. One may be up in bed after a nice date, re-living the hugs, conversations, the smiles and the knowing looks when memories of past fights, probably forgiven (or at least in the process of forgiving) hurtful words show up to ruin the moment. These mood ruining memories have a way of lingering long and they do not come alone. They show up with a  basket full of ‘what if’ questions…

“what if he isn't really sorry?

“what if she was acting tonight, if she was really into me she’ll never had acted the way she did a gazillion years ago.”

…and just like that, one “bad” memory of an argument that lasted 5 minutes ruins and takes over the good feeling of the memory of an aggregate 5 months of bliss.

Okay, I think it is an insult to the power of memories to simply classify them into “good memories” and “bad memories”. Memories are good, they make us; it is what we do with them that matter. We can choose to let go of unpleasant memories and treat them as a part of our learning past, or we can hold on to the hurt and remain miserable.

A Lazy Tuesday Morning.

I've been up for hours. I've been lazying in bed, I've played candy crush saga until I've ran out of lives. Twice. I've read chats on whatsapp, I've responded to chats on whatsapp. I've even reread old chats and I've made new resolutions.

I've rolled and rolled on the bed. I've had a cup of sugar filled yellow label tea. I've even been to the toilet for the big one. I've counted the ceiling, vertically and horizontally. I've thought of several things, the range of which is impossible to belief.

The most reoccuring nag in my mind all morning has been, "do something girl, write something, read a book, don't just lie here. It's almost noon and all you've done is wait for the phone to beep and wait for lives to fill on a game. Wake up Ttonia, wake up!"

Then I picked up a book to read, I've read several pages of this book before now, but I decided to start over. Two pages and the back cover into the book and I'm tired of reading, not the books fault please,this book is a fun read. This isn't just what I'll rather be doing. So I went back to tossing and turning, candy crush and whatsapp. And on cue, the nagging thoughts returned.

Again I decided to give in and do something. "But what do I do? I could finish that proposal," I thought, "or perhaps start writing the one I've completed only in my head." But no, I'm too lazy to do any mental work. How about I complete the online registration for that training, the deadline is in about a week. No, still mentally tasking.

I know what to do, I'm going to write, I'll just pick up my favourite pen and the yellow writing pad and start writing. I'll write anything that comes to my head even if it's these silly random indecisive thoughts.

So I've picked up the yellow pad and the current favourite pen and I've written these words. I'll type and share so you'll get to read my thoughts on a lazy Tuesday morning. Or should I say you've just read my thought?

Losing.

His eyes met hers and a new friendship began. They'll talk for hours unend about silly things and not so silly things. Her waking moments were filled with thoughts of him.

He sends her short texts, flowers and chocolates. The kisses, long walks and whispers of sweet nothings were the highlights of her day and the warm memories that accompanies her to sleep at night.
Then the flowers stopped coming, so did the chocolates. The texts became shorter and farther apart.

The whispers of sweet nothings became a distant memory so that all she now has are memories that seem so long ago, they could have happened in another lifetime.
Memories she is fighting to hold on to and losing.

Battering is successful

Domestic violence against women is the most common cause of injury to women and it is happening in our society today, even as you read this. 80-90% of children living in violent homes are aware of the violence hence its attendant effect on their lives. Girls from domestic homes are 50% more likely to abuse their children than those who are not and they tend to marry men who abuse them. Women who are abused are also more likely to abuse their children. Women are dying, children are becoming emotionally twisted, hey even the batterers are crying out for help. So why is domestic violence against women still prevailing?

Wife beating is sanctioned by many traditional laws and religions; this makes it okay for men to go commando on their wives at the slightest provocation. The provocation isn’t always necessarily a result of happenings at home; it could be something that may have happened at work or while drinking with friends. I am not saying here that it is okay if it is as a result of something that happened at home. There is absolutely no reason on earth why a man should beat his wife no matter what she may have said or done. Sure, women can be a handful and an annoying specie of the human race, it is in our DNA. Yet, getting angry is a legit emotion which should be expressed but not by hitting another adult who happens to be your wife. Let's face it, she isn't the only person that annoys you still you do not go about hitting anyone who does.

System failure contributes to the success of violence against women, no one effectively intervenes, not friends, not the neighbours, not the police, not the church, not the courts, not the media, no one. You hear your neighbours’ wife screaming from the slaps and kicks; you turn up your radio to drown the noise. It is their privacy, you won’t intervene. Do you really believe that it does not affect you? Or that minding your business makes you the stand up guy and earns you the perfect neighbour award? This batterer neighbour of yours is grooming a future batterer who might end up getting married to your grand niece. Fat chance? Not really!

I think that intervening does not only help the victim but the batterer too. I mean, somewhere deep inside, he wishes he kept his promise to himself. A promise he made to never hit any woman in his life, especially not his wife. A promise he made to himself severally while watching his mother take abuse from his father. A promise he renews each time he gets remorseful for hitting his wife. He wishes someone would intervene. Somehow, I see him as a victim too; a victim of societal breakdown and poor role modeling.

The success rate of wife beating can be curbed if batterers stop getting away with it. We really can’t afford to let this keep prevailing, call the police, knock down that door and make a citizen’s arrest if you have to but don’t do NOTHING. The violence Against Persons (Prohibition) Act, 2015 shouldn’t be another policy for the shelves. It is aimed at prohibiting all forms of violence against persons both in private and public; I earnestly hope it doesn’t fall short of its aim.

Let us all join hands in this fight to end wife battery, it is not a fight to be fought by a particular gender, or by survivors of violence, it is a fight to be fought by everyone, men and women. Every child deserve to grow in a violent free home.

Rape: Focus on ‘The Ndifon’ of Unical

A lot of questions have been on the minds of most people that have followed the recent rape story fingering Dean Cyril Ndifon of the faculty of law, University of calabar, Nigeria. The first thing we tend to hear about the man is his notoriety, how he sexually assaults and rapes female students, (well, no male has spoken out but one can’t be too sure these days). Hence we ask; why have these victims not spoken out all along? Why has he been getting away with it? Some say he threatens his victims; that is not hard to believe, is it? I mean what rapist or violent offender encourages his victim to go spread the news? The most important question I’ll like to ask is, “will he get away with it this time?” Apparently he belongs to a cult and his hound dogs will hunt victim down if she squeals. If you ask me, he doesn’t even need to attempt to scare them that badly; rape victims rarely speak out anyway.

WHY ?!

“The feeling of shame is so intense for rape victims that many never tell anyone what happened to them, I found it difficult not to feel ashamed when others reacted to me with embarrassment or discomfort. And this feeling of shame silenced me.” Nancy Venable Raine, After Silence: Rape and My Journey Back.

The reasons rape victims do not tell about their ordeals are universal, same across ethnic groups, religions, countries and continents. These reasons include, shame, stigma, fear of being disbelieved, fear of being hounded (Ndifon style), and a desire to get past the pain.  Victims are also concerned about their family and friends, they are anxious about what the people in their lives will think. They also worry about “ruining” the reputation of the perpetrator when it is someone known to them (better believe it). Then there is the justice system to worry about, would they get justice at the end? If not, why bother?

Back to ‘the Ndifon’, someone finally squealed. Bless her mother for not hushing it. Bless the age we live in, stories spread like wild fire so the whole world now has access to the story of the serial rapist, (forgive me for not prefacing “serial rapist” with ‘accused’).

Oh right, he didn’t do it, the 20 years old 400 level law students made it all up! She had it all planned. All she wants is to ruin the perfect image of a very good man, the very first law Professor from his state of origin. She somehow managed to get him to tear her test papers, so that she can get him to invite her into his private office, just so she can set him up. How dare she stay quiet when someone came to interrupt him? Why did she not use the brain God gave her to scream? The hound dogs want to know. They have no idea what could happen to a person’s God given brain in times like that. Maybe, just maybe they do. Sometimes, the people that attack one the most are those that have actually been there; those that resent themselves so much for not screaming when screaming was the commonsensical thing to do. They will NOT pass up an opportunity to attack someone who has acted the exact same way they hate themselves for acting.

‘The Ndifon’ has ruined a lot of lives. He has hurt one woman too many. It is time to put him out of business. This last victim was brave enough to speak out and by so doing she has encouraged some other victims to speak out too. She has encouraged parents who hushed up the stories their daughters told them to speak out. This last victim should be exactly that, his “last victim”.

Getting justice for any one rape case has a ripple effect on the rate of reporting. For one thing, it will encourage victims to speak out and perpetrators will be put out of business. Let’s make our world safe for our women, for our daughters. 

The Batterer is NOT a Monster

At least he wasn't born a monster- something, someone, a series of happenings made him that way. Once upon a time, a long long time ago, before the series of events that led to his being labelled "batterer" he was an innocent baby, whose smile made a mother's heart race. Abuse is a learned behaviour, this singular fact is the reason we have hope for batterers, that which is learned can be unlearned. This post is aimed at exploring likely reasons why our sweet child became monstrous.





The most common reason you'll find is that most men who batter have been exposed to domestic violence as children. They have had to watch mummy accept and endure violence as daddy abused her, they have been victims of child abuse, they have learned to express powerful emotions in destructive ways, they have been raised to be the 'man', that is, to be in control.

Generally speaking, boys detest their fathers for hitting their mother. At younger ages, they wish the violence will stop when they are not feeling they are probably to blame for the violence. As they get older they fantasize about defending their mothers, and some actually do live out these fantasies. Then they make personal pledges never to hit a woman, never to hit their wives. They promise themselves and sometimes others, that they would never hit a woman, ever.Not all of them live up to these promises. In truth, plenty of them do not.

 Having learned from their fathers the way to treat a woman, they may not know how not to hit the women that come into their lives. It is therefore safe to say that spousal abuse is passed down from generation to generation.

Boys who have learned to express their emotions in destructive ways will become men who express emotions in destructive ways. Daddy gets angry, he lashes out, it could be at mum or at the kids, it doesn't matter. He is the king of the jungle and all must walk on egg shells around him. This is the man raising our sweet little child, this is the toxic environment our boy is growing up in. It is therefore very important that parents learn to express their emotions in healthy ways. Lashing out on a child out of anger isn't punishment, it is abuse. You are teaching him to also lash out when things do not go his way.

Our sweet boy is all grown up now but sweet isn't the first adjective that comes to mind when you ask his wife to tell about him, though it may be the first that comes to her lips as she fakes a smile. This is not what this man wants for his wife, he doesn't want his family to be like the one he was raised in. But he doesn't know a better way to express his emotions. He is not a monster, he just needs help unlearning the violent behaviour.

Speaking Out -concluding part

My father abused my mother in every sense of the word. He abused her physically, financially, emotionally, sexually and verbally (loudly too). I promised myself I wouldn’t take abuse from any man. I also promised myself I’ll grow up to help abused women get help. So when Joe hit me at first I was beyond mortified. He knew my dream of having a shelter home for the abused, he knew I always say that when man as much as raises his hand even if he didn’t land it on his target, the target should leave the man and not look back. But I didn’t leave. I wanted to but I didn’t. It happened at past midnight, I was standing close to the rest room when the first slap landed and I found myself on the bathroom floor sitting next to the bathtub. I spilled lots of water when I was landing, guess I was trying to hold the bucket for support. The spilled water further aggravated him and he started pounding away mercilessly. He’d hit me on my left cheek and the right side of my head will bang against the bath tub. By the time he was done, I was certain my skull had fractured because the headache was terrible, worse than terrible. My younger sister who was with my kids in their room when the hitting was going on took me to the hospital across the street. I had joined her in the kids’ room after the episode, but I was complaining of the ache in my head, she had to do something after about 90minutes of nonstop complain. The doctor said my skull was fine but my blood pressure was above the roof and that’s why I have the ache. She did tell me to be a better wife to avoid such incidents. We were back home by 3am and I tried sleeping but couldn’t. At about 5am, I heard movement in the bedroom and knew he was awake, I went in, sat next to him and asked what happened? Why did he hit me? What made him so angry? I really didn’t know. He didn’t answer me. Then I told him it was over, I’m leaving with my kids. I waited till like 6am called his elder sister, my elder brother, my mother, his best friend and told them that he wanted to kill me. His sister asked me to come over so we’ll talk; it was a last Saturday of the month so there wasn’t movement until 10am. As soon as it was 10am, I went to a close barber shop and shaved my hair, then I went to sisters and she allowed her to calm me down. She summoned him and set him straight too. But what I didn’t know then is that once the flood gates are opened it pours. About five or six months later, I had an argument with his brother who was in the house with us then, while we were at each other he called me to the room and asked me to let it go. But the argument was about an issue I had been letting go of and couldn’t anymore. I opened my mouth to explain how I felt and in what seemed like a millisecond he was off the bed and had given me four resounding slaps. He stopped when I said; “Joe, my kids are here”. It was a Sunday afternoon. This time I didn’t make any phone calls, I realize now as I write that I called all those people that first time around because I wasn’t quite strong enough to leave so I needed someone to talk me into staying. Next day I got my kids ready and dropped them at school, he was satisfied that things are normal so he got ready and left for work (he usually leaves before 6am but he stayed until around 10am). As soon as he left, I got my stuff and my kids’ stuff together picked them from school and we left for Jos city.

It may sound like I left early but I didn’t. When I should have left was about 2 months into the relationship when he started showing me that my opinion doesn’t matter, when he started taking control of my mind, control of me. I wish I knew then what I know now. I didn’t even know that he was “being controlling”, I didn’t know anything about that then.

I also didn’t know I had what is generally referred to as “daddy issues”. This is why I was unable to stay without being in a relationship, young as I was then. I craved to be wanted, to be loved and needed. I was extremely needy too. I needed to be needed. I needed a male in my life. A relationship to fill the void created by my emotionally (physically too) absent father. I was damaged but I didn’t know it. Joe was damaged too. He had abandonment issues and also needed to be needed and loved. He was emotionally dwarfed too.  We were at the same level emotionally; two halves do not make a one in the marriage institution. I must add that it isn’t wrong or unhealthy to want to be loved, it’s natural and completely healthy.

Another important thing we need to learn is how to receive. A lot of us do not know how to receive without wanting to give back or trying to earn it. Recall I mentioned that I let Joe play with my boobs because I thought he earned that much. I felt I needed to earn his love and niceness. So I paid with my boobs at first, but the price kept getting higher. This is also important in our relationship with God. God loves us, simple as that. A lot of us are still trying to earn His love; a love that He has already freely given to us. I read somewhere (can’t remember where) that our relationship with our earthly father determines to some extent our relationship with God. While this cannot be true in 100% of cases, it is true in plenty. If you grew up in a home where you are constantly trying to earn daddy’s approval and love, you tend to translate this into your relationship with God and your boyfriend/fiancé/husband. You grow up in a home where the father is unapproachable and radiates fear; you tend to see God as such too. Our earthly father is a first example we have of what a father is and our perception of him tends to affect our perception of God. Some of us are lucky and have good Christian background and teaching but a lot of us still have a strained relationship with God. Some still find it difficult to accept God’s love, God’s forgiveness when we’ve erred and some are unable to connect with God on a personal level. But knowledge brings about liberation. God loves us deeply and seek to connect with us individually and intimately. This is important because it is impossible for you to go wrong if you relate to and hear from God concerning every issue including your love life.

Speaking Out -Part 2

One of the biggest contributors to domestic violence is lack of self acceptance. We’ve all heard that men beat up their wives because they lack a healthy self esteem. But a woman with a good self esteem will not end up with a man that lacks it. The thing here is that knowing something generally is easy but knowing these things on a personal level and applying it to self isn’t as easy. We all know that a good self worth is necessary but a lot of us still walk around with dwarfed self esteem. The saying, “water seeks its own level” is so true. So here is the first thing you need to do, work on your ‘self worth’ and self acceptance. Learn to accept yourself, love yourself and above all have a healthy relationship with yourself. Remember that until you have a healthy relationship with you, you may not be able to have one with a fellow person nor with God. (I recommend a book “how to succeed at being yourself” by Joyce Meyer). You become more difficult to manipulate when you know thyself.

Months and plenty sex later, me and Joe were going strong, then one day, he attacked and almost beat up a complete stranger. I can’t remember the exact happenings but I remember that the violent reaction was totally not necessary and I told him so. Now people with controlling personality do not like to be wrong. When they are, its best you don’t point it out to them, they don’t want to hear it. So when I voiced my thoughts about his reactions, he completely shut me down. That was the first of many shut downs. Voicing my disagreement or contrary opinions is usually not acceptable; I found that I gradually disagreed less and less with his decisions. He was gradually taking control of my mind, my thought system. It was easy because I didn’t completely have a full appreciation of my worth, so I was happy to let another person define me. Over the years and into the marriage, his favourite meals became mine too. So were his favourite books, people, lifestyle, etc. I even went as far as smoking with him. He was in control. When we had a fight, we don’t talk about it because he doesn’t want to talk about it, we just pretend it didn’t happen and this was draining me emotionally. There are a lot of things I didn’t like and wanted to talk about but I couldn’t. If you do not know and appreciate who you are, if you do not take the time and make the effort to be a full person, if you leave it up to a relationship to define you, he will help define you and make you his puppet. Years and two kids later, that was exactly what I became. 

Another reason women end up with monsters is the strain society has put on us. Get to a certain age, get married, OR ELSE! One day, sometime in 2012 on facebook, I wished a friend happy birthday via her inbox, she replied saying she is now 24years old and people will start looking at her “one kain” because she is still single. No, she wasn’t kidding. The pressure we women allow the society to put on our shoulders is enormous. I said allow because we can decide not to be put under this pressure. Back when I was in Jos in 2011, (after my divorce), I had a friend we will refer to as Violet. Violet has everything going good for her. She was 28, beautiful, recently graduated and dating a guy as hot as Morris Chestnut, (we’ll refer to him as Morris cause of his looks). As long as Violet knew, her search for her better half was over. It didn’t matter that Morris chose her friends, spends her money, cheats on her and resets her brain once in a while with a slap or two. He was going to marry her and that was enough for her. Her family liked him (the side of him they knew) his family adored her. One time, he beat her up so badly she was hospitalized and unable to open her left eye for days. When I asked what happened, she told me she’s been in a bike accident, this is same story she fed his family members (her family wasn’t in Jos but his was quite close to her). His mother was sending meals her way, his sisters were taking turns to spend time with her and do her chores, Morris was available to bath her and reassure her of his undying love. This was after he had told her that the next time she repeats her actions he would use acid to redesign her face. I found out the truth about the accident and asked her why she was still in the relationship. She said she can’t start over meeting someone new and building a fresh relationship, she wasn’t getting any younger and besides he wouldn’t be jealous if he didn’t love her. Don’t marry for any of these reasons, please. Being single isn’t leprosy and marriage isn’t some cure. Violet is married now, she didn’t marry Morris. He went away for NYSC and the relationship ended.

I always say that marriage is a union between two whole persons not two halves. It is one plus one to give one, not half plus half to give one. If you are a half, you have no business getting married, chances are that you will end up attracting a similar half and may end up with two kids, divorce papers and a child custody suit. Nobody wants that. The problem is that plenty of us do not want to do what it takes to build up ourselves; we want to wait for “Sir Galahad” to come sweep us off our feet and fix us. We get attracted to his chivalry, his domineering personality and the way he seem to take charge of everything. We fall in love with the fact that he takes care of everything and help us decide what goes where. We marry him and then we complain that he wants to control everything. We complain about the very traits that got us swooning at the beginning. Marriage isn’t a quick fix or a short cut to happiness. Make sure you are all fixed up, happy and in love with yourself before you even consider marriage.

In 2007, Bauchi, service year my neigbour and friend lost her son, he died as a result of persistent stooling. She was also living with an abusive man. He doesn’t go 24 hours without abusing her with words that cut deeper than knives. Then when it seems like the scars on her are fading, he beats her up over again to refresh them. This woman was the gentlest of souls. She begs, apologizes, kneels to appease him, etc. There was absolutely no reason on earth why her husband should hit her. She will stay away from her beauty shop for days simply because he orders it, no other reason. His words were gold and law. When their almost two years old son Bitrus started stooling nonstop, she started him on oral drip (to be honest she wasn’t too faithful with the therapy), the day she mentioned hospital to her husband, he said something like, “hospital, because of say him dey shit?” and that was it, hospital was ruled out until it was too late. By the third day, Bitrus was already too pale and too weak; he passed out before his mother got him to the hospital. The doctors were unable to revive him. Before this incident, I asked Mama Bitrus why she stays on with this man. She had a growing beauty salon; she is beautiful and easily likeable. Her reasons for staying are similar to a lot I’ve heard/read about. What will people say? My family warned me about him but I insisted on him. They will laugh at me. Needless to say, Bitrus’ death brought about the end of his parent’s marriage. Don’t stay in an abusive marriage because of what society will say, the stakes are too high; your daughters are more likely to end up with abusive husbands, your sons will likely turn out to be like your husband. 

to be continued...

Speaking Out, Part 1

This is a post about Domestic violence (DV). I know we’ve seen a lot of them lately and I think it’s a good thing we have. True enough, the stories and horrors have made a lot of singles question their desire to get married someday. While some have voiced their fears, others have wondered in silence. But the increase in awareness and reporting of domestic violence is an answer is the prayers of many, mine inclusive. I believe a lot of women have been encouraged to voice out, seek help and even step out of life threatening relationships as a result of the numerous posts on this subject.

While this post will contain seemingly horrifying accounts of violence it will also be educating. I will be sharing stories about myself, my friends and neighbors. Every story in this post is true, names used wouldn’t be the real names. At the end of what may be a relatively long read, the message this post intends to pass is this; “love yourself enough and you will not settle for a violent person”

I was helping a boy out with his English language; he was to answer questions following a passage on AIDS. He said he didn’t quite understand the passage and I was happy to read and explain the passage to him. I had earlier that day commented on a post on a Facebook saying that I’ll be sharing my story and I’ll focus on how to avoid marrying into violence, so I was already thinking about DV. While reading the passage, it occurred to me that AIDS has a lot of similarities with DV. They are both pandemics, they both fester and breed in secrecy, people like to hide that they are living with it and society tend to stigmatize those who are bold enough to fess up. And no matter how much we talk about and educate people on either of these two pandemics it can never be too much.

First thing you should know about potential violent husbands is that they are manipulative. I have had series of relationships before I met my ex husband (we’ll hence forth refer to him as Joe for the purpose of this post), many of them lasted a week or two, some a little more. I knew I deserve to have as good as the next person but I did not have a relationship with myself. I find that I was always in a relationship with one boy or the other. I was wise enough to dump any guy that wasn’t treating me right but I didn’t know how to survive outside a relationship. Oh, and by “not treating me right”, I mean the guy wants to kiss, touch and have sex with me. By my definition then, as long as he isn’t pressuring me for sex, he is a keeper. In my defense, I was really young then (less than 19years) and I was living in Abuja hostel of the University of Jos. When I met Joe, he was so different from all the others. For those of you that know Abuja hostel boys of 2001-2003(I speak for the time I know), they toast you on Monday, buy you coke on Tuesday, invite you to their room on Wednesday. You go to their room hoping that this guy is different from the last (told you I was almost dumb, did I?), then he offers to buy you a drink, you say No, he smiles inwardly, gives you water, you say thanks. He sits next to you on the bed and attempts to kiss you. You may refuse and both of you will end up wrestling for your tight jeans (I wasn’t so dumb, I always wear tight jeans). But Joe was different, he was nice. I visited him a number of times and all we did was play cards or chess. When he attempts to kiss and I say no, he stops. He was the dream. It was two weeks already, going on three and no wrestle, we haven’t broken up and there was no pressure. This singular fact made me overlook all his other flaws. But he was only being smart. Before I knew it, he has gained my trust and I was imagining growing old with him and the beautiful kids we’ll have. By two weeks of knowing him, I was already sleeping at his place (not Abuja hostel). We’ll talk all night, play, kiss, I’ll even let him touch my boobs (I thought he deserved that much), he’ll make me breakfast and serve me in bed, it was bliss. I was a month away from my 19^th birthday when we met and I hadn’t had consensual sex as at then (more on the questions “consensual sex” is raising in your minds in a different post). One day we talked until late, laughing and kissing and touching and he tried to go all the way, I still pushed him away. And again he stopped without pleading or wrestling. When I woke up the next day, at around 10am he was by the kitchen making spaghetti, I passed by him to get to the rest room to free up my bladder. When I was done, I stopped to chat a bit with him before going to stretch some more on the bed. Then he asked “why do you always turn me down, do you not trust me, am I not good enough for you?” somehow I had amnesia that morning, I completely forgot we have discussed this and I had told I didn’t want sex until I was married or 25 whichever came first. The only thing I thought of at that point was that I’m being selfish and he deserves better. And sure enough we had sex that evening. He was good (I don’t mean the sex), he got what almost a dozen of guys before him couldn’t. He was manipulative and patient. This is a common trait of violent men. They know how to have their way, in the beginning they are patient but as you get more familiar with them and become less ‘yourself’, they don’t bother to be patient anymore. The manipulation never goes away, it gets better instead.