It was another Saturday at ogige market, the market I was all too familiar with. I was already used to the noise, the overcrowding, the high-pitched tone of Madam Ada's voice who always shouted "Buy your Okpa", and beckoned on people to buy the delicious traditional dish. There were also the wheel barrow pushers who shooed people out of the way while simultaneously hitting them with their barrows, which more often than not, resulted in fights. As chaotic as the market was, I loved to come here. There was this nostalgia of accompanying Mama to this market when I was younger, about five years ago. And she always reminded me that one day, I would come here alone, not to accompany her, but to buy foodstuff for my own family - my husband and kids. Mama taught me how to buy quality foodstuff. She taught me how to determine which watermelons had more juice in it without having to open it. Sometimes, she let me do the bargaining. And when I properly negotiated prices with the sellers, she would beam satisfactorily, her dimples getting even deeper, and mutter "Well done, nwam. You did well".

Mama taught me almost everything I needed to know about life, even before I experienced it. And that was why I seemed more mature than girls my age. I could distinguish right from wrong during my early teens, I could cook almost all our local dishes as early as fourteen years, I could hold conversations with anyone irrespective of their ages, I was really good at home keeping and I knew how to relate with people very well. And because of these qualities, I wasted no time in finding a husband, who mama referred to as "my crown", at the young age of twenty one.

Even though mama had emphasized that I give all due respect to my husband, never argue with him, and be in total submission to him, mama did not warn me that if I disagree with my husband, I would get beaten up. She did not warn me that my husband would one day tell me I was not his family, she did not warn me of constant interference from in-laws. She did not also tell me that even if I went to work and came back very late, tired and worn out, I would still have to go into the kitchen and cook, because "my crown" was a man, and men had no business in the kitchen. She did not tell me that I had to adjust my mood to fit that of my husband's. I only laughed when he laughed, and if he was not in a good mood, and if he came back home in a bad mood, I was also in a bad mood, fearful of whether or not he would best me to ease off his anger. She did not tell me that I would crave his attention, but he would only give me crumbs because he had to always be at the bar with his friends every night. I had to find out all these by myself.

wish mama was still alive. Then I would tell her of how "my crown" beat me to pulp last night because I told him I was too tired to prepare ogbono soup, and told him to make do with noodles instead. I would also tell her of two days ago, when he came home drunk by 11pm and threw up on the rug. And when I questioned him about it, he threw a side stool at me. I would also tell her of Mama Tobi, our neighbour who lived downstairs, and how she gave me a pitiful look when she asked me about the injury on my face and I smiled warily and told her that I slipped and fell. She shook her head pathetically and told me she overheard my wailing when Chinedu beat me the night before. She had told me to endure, for the sake of my children.

Mama Chinedu, my husband's mother does not even try to help matters. The first time Chinedu beat me up, I called her on phone to rant. And after narrating what had happened to her, she was quiet for a while.

"Ada"

"Yes mama" I responded, waiting for her to tell me how she would scold her son.

"Did you know that papa Chinedu used to beat me in the past?"

"eeeeh?" Was the only exclamation I could make. It was really shocking.

"Mama, I'm so sorry. I did not know".

"This is what I am trying to tell you, my dear. You are a good girl, and I would like to tell you the truth about marriage. You see, my dear, men crave respect. And if you don't give them that respect, they do not take it lightly. You should always agree with anything your husband says, even if it sounds absurd to you. And as for the beating, just endure it my daughter. It is just a phase and he will eventually stop. It is his way of feeling like a man. Or do you want your husband to feel less than a man?"

"No mama"

"Smart girl. I know you understand what I am saying. And the next time something like this happen, you do not have to start calling me. Settle it with your husband. It is not wise to invite people into your marriage over every small issue".

"Okay mama."

"You are welcome my child".

I tried to leave, did I not? I have reported to my family, his family, our church leaders, but what did I get in return? It was the usual "You can not leave your marriage. It is against the good book". Or "Think about your children. How will they feel without their father?" Or the words I hated to hear the most "You are a woman o. Who will marry you if you leave your husband?" Ogechi, the chair lady of the women's commitee in church even whispered to me "My husband beats me up too. But I still have to be a submissive wife to him. He is my pride after all". I looked at her in disbelief, because to us all, her husband seemed to be the perfect gentleman. She smiled again and continued. "How else will he prove his love for me if he does not beat me? I am his baby and he has to discipline me when I am wrong. Read your Bible very well. You will see that he is truly the head of the house". I choked on my drink. The society has brainwashed us all into thinking that this is normal. They decided to trick us into thinking that physical and mental abuse is the norm. And the appaling part is this: If we as women do not acknowledge that abuse is paranormal, who else will?

Who tells your story as a woman if you don't tell the story by yourself? I, Adannaya will tell my story. And even if I get no support, I will do it alone. The popular Christine Mason Miller said "At any given moment, you have the power to say this is not how the story is going to end.” And this resonated within me. I have decided that this was not how my story was going to end. I was going to speak up against the deception that women have been braunwashed into believing.

But first, I had to go home and prepare a pot of ogbono soup for my husband, because even though I wanted to be free from the shackles of this bondage, I was still very much scared about what the society would think of me if I leave my marriage.