‘’so I am now a dog akwaya, I should keep barking abi?’’, Imoh increased his grip on my neck. ‘’eh eh, every time you will be making me angry, just simple instructions, you can’t follow, how hard is it to just do the right things’’, he continued, tightening his grip on my neck.

I felt my life draining away, the entire blood in my body rushed to my head, my bile-filled life flashed before my eyes. My eyes pleaded for help, they begged him to release his hold on me so I can at least catch my breath and live, for my children. 

My hands searched the atmosphere for divine intervention but none came. I was suffocating, I was dying but Imoh pressed on. He looked intent to snap life out of me. 

I think I must have left this realm because while he was sucking the life out of me, everything went dark and silent. I couldn’t hear my children begging their father anymore. They had been crying and pleading that he stop hurting their mummy, I couldn’t hear the TV anymore. It just went ……dark.

Before he came home…

My children and I were catching a chore break, we got engrossed in the new show we were watching on the Disney Channel. See, there is this new show where quadruplets were getting themselves in and out of various shenanigans and we found it funny and engrossing.

 Imoh had come in from work and we hadn’t noticed. He must have said something which I didn’t catch and that had upset him. He gets really mad when he talks and no one responds or when he talks and you respond. Truthfully, he gets upset over everything especially when he has consumed alchohol. Which happens a lot.

He was already on my neck by the time I noticed him and made to greet him.

You see, Imoh is my husband of seven years and although he has always been temperamental, his temperaments metamorphosed into a boiling rage and anger towards me when I miscarried what would have been our first and only boy child.

Imoh has always wanted a male child, but the universe gifted him three female children instead. We had initially planned to have just two children but because of my husband’s quest for a male child, we have had three children and counting.

Last October, I tested positive during my pregnancy test. Imoh was indifferent about it but got super excited when the scan revealed I was carrying a male fetus.

He started treating me like a Queen, he got a live-in maid, strictly instructed her to specifically care for my needs. I was living like a Queen and it was the best feeling in the world. I got to eat WHATEVER I wanted; I got massages whenever I feel tensed from doing nothing all day. I was living THE life and enjoying every bit of it….well, who wouldn’t. 

When a man who doesn’t care if his wife is tired or not but still demands duties from her begin to treat you like this, my dear you would savour all of the moments and I was.

But, something happened that changed the whole narrative.

My Daddy died….

When it was time for the burial ceremony, I had to travel home. My husband vehemently refused, stating that a woman in my condition should not travel such a distance. 

I , was determined to travel, so, I somehow convinced him that I was going to take extra care and I would be fine. ‘’besides, the family is paying for a private convener to convey us all to the East. I would be sitting at the front seat and as such would be comfortable’’

Imoh reluctantly agreed, stating he wouldn’t want to be seen as the ‘’bad person who would not let his wife travel to go bury her father’’.

So, on December 18th, we set out. Imoh personally saw to it that I was comfortably sitting in the front of the Sienna bus, he bade me farewell with a peck on my forehead. I smiled coyishly.

 The road to the eastern part of Nigeria were decorated with gallops and holes as deep as the deep canyon. The driver tried all he could to dodge them but still, we hit one or two bumps.

The roads were quite bumpy and soon I began to doubt my faith in keeping the pregnancy safe.

Half way through the journey, I began to feel excruciating pain in my lower abdomen. I tried to carry my protruding stomach each time we hit the bump or got in one of the holes to lessen the pain but it was not helping.

The pain increased the farther we went until I couldn’t endure it anymore, I pleaded with the driver to pull over, so that I could stretch. He parked the vehicle by the side of the road and I dragged myself down.

Everyone was relieved and seemed to appreciate the break more than I would. My brother even made a joke about how serious a person the driver was, denying them opportunity to buy okpa. I was still laughing at the joke when I felt a throb in vagina, and a wetness that felt warm.

I put my fingers into my leggings to feel the wetness. while bringing out my hand, I shut my eyes while praying silently that it would be urine, I hoped it would be urine or at least a whitish discharge but it wasn’t.

It was blood, bright red blood, it felt warm in my shaky hand, I stared at my palm, eyes wide open in shock. I had miscarried, I had lost the one thing my husband entrusted in my care.

Between the rush of blood and my tears, I don’t know which would make an ocean. Everyone tried to console me but I couldn’t be consoled.

Imoh had foreseen this and warned me but I had emotionally blackmailed him into allowing me to travel and now the one thing he holds dare to his soul..I had killed. He would kill me.

And he did kill me…with his words and actions. Imoh hated me for this ever since, he wouldn’t be intimate with me anymore. He looks at me like filth. He sacked the maid and turned me into the new maid. He unleashes his frustrations and anger on me at any given time and place.

I became a shadow of myself. I no longer socialized, so there was no need to make my hair or do my nails, as a result I was always looking unkempt.

I did everything I could to appease him and show him how sorry I was but they all seemed to piss him off the more. I would do chores all day, cook, clean and stuff but Imoh would still find something to nag about.

Today, I feel he remembered again how I lost his only son… 

So, while he strangled me to another realm--- which seemed peaceful by the way, I let him.

I just needed peace and this place seems peaceful, so I laid down ,drew in a deep breath and decided to let all my worries float away.

But….

Who then will tell my story?

Who will tell the world that my mother had warned me about marrying Imoh. She had, on the first meet deduced that his ego was as large as the stadium and he would not allow anyone bruise it.

But I was young and naïve, I decided to ignore this red flag, believing he would cut his ego when we get married just as the other girls I knew had ignored red flags in their relationships.

My mummy immediately picked his anger issues and tried to advise me against it.’’ A man this angry can hurt you one day out of rage oo’’ she said. But once again, I ignored hoping he would control it, at least towards me, his wife just like my friend Ijeoma, who’s boyfriend used to even beat her but made her believe he would control himself once they get married.  

Who will tell my mum that she was absolutely right, that this man beats me at any slight provocation.

 Who will tell the world my story of how I have endured all forms of demeaning and derogatory comments from the man who is supposedly suppose to protect me from such. And guess what? I am not the only woman who experiences such.

The other day, daddy Chizzy called mummy Chizzy, our women leader, a whore in her place of business.

Who will tell my children that I had always dreamed of being an author, that I prefer to pen down my feelings than talk about it. That I have always written, hoping that someday, I would be able to write in the open without receiving lashes from my husband which is why I have been keeping secret journals and diary from him and the rest of the world.

No one can tell my story better than I would.

And with that thought, I jerked myself back to life.

I do have a story to tell and I will tell it. I will even include that of Ijeoma and mummy Chizzy and all women all over the world whose dreams and visions have been smashed by virtue of marriage. 

Women who are suffocating in their relationships.

Women who are being made to feel worthless despite their endeavours.

Dear woman,

When it feels like the universe is draining the life out of you, don’t let it. Ask yourself this;

If you let the issues win WHO TELLS YOUR STORY?

#WM2024