Episode 3Four days later
Staring at my reflection in the full length dressing mirror, I smile sheepishly. Oh! What a wonderful morning, a morning that has indeed come with joy.
My eyes rove over my reflection in the mirror and I have to admit I love what I see.
The night I told him about the pregnancy was an emotional night. He stared at me in shock when I first broke the news to him, he didn’t blink nor utter any word, the next instant he burst into tears and knelt before me.
I was flagger basted, that obviously wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. He wrapped his arms around my waist and apologized earnestly. I couldn’t resist asking him the question that has been on my mind since that awful night.
Why did you rape me? I asked him He bowed his head in shame and couldn’t meet my eyes…he was quiet for a while that I thought he had fallen asleep. He gave a shuddery sigh before speaking, without looking at me.
“I know you won’t believe me but I have never raped a lady before” he began, in his accent that I love so much. “I don’t know what came over me that night and I just knew I had to make you mine.” He finished.
“Remember when you told me that the only man to sleep with you would be your husband?” he asked me, I nodded slowly, I didn’t think he would remember the conversation we had in our early relationship days.
“I was scared you would turn me down when I ask you to marry me” he said softly, I placed my left hand on his shoulder, willing him to look at me. “I want this baby, Deola” he said, I smiled when I heard his pronunciation of my name, Di-oh-la. He kissed my stomach and I couldn’t help but feel touched.
Staring at my reflection while I recall that night, made me smile. There has been in a change in him after that night, he has become the man I fell in love with. Oh! I feel like his wife now.
He has been attentive to me, even taking time out of his busy schedule to have lunch with me at my office. Last night, he confided that he hopes the baby is a girl, a baby girl that would look just like me. I giggled at his flattery.
Our marriage really began after that night…I smiled as I turned away from the mirror and walked across the room to turn off the air conditioner.
I heard the blast of the car honk and exclaimed. He had been waiting for me in the car. I hurriedly turned off the light switch, picked up my hand bag and walked out of the bedroom, closing the door behind me.
I realized the rain was drizzling as soon as I walked out the front door, I walked hurriedly to the car park and got into his car. He turned his attention away from his iPad and gave me a cold stare. I smiled in return, hoping to ease the tension.
It all happened in a daze, he lifted his left hand and gave me a slap across my cheek.
I stared at him in shock, ‘You kept me waiting’ was all he said, before he reversed out of the car park and drove out of the gate.
Written by: Okusun Mercy
The words: beauty and beautiful are no strange words to the human race, I mean they’ve been used since as far back as man came into existence.
Remember when God looked at all he had made and said everything was beautiful? Yeah you do. I really don’t have issues with the word itself but the way it’s being used nowadays is quite interesting.
I want you to look around you as you read and see how many people are beautiful, its hard to really judge right? You probably wanna know why? Well its because the word has no essence on it’s own.
I mean it’s defined along theborders of various yardsticks, most of which are irredeemably subjective. Let me refresh your memory a little bit.
You must have heard, times without number, this cliché ” beauty is in the eyes of the beholder.” Alright, here’s the thing, when a guy comes over and tells you “you are beautiful”, how do you know that you and him use the word the same way? Think about it.
According to Ludwig Wittgenstein in his work(scholarly paper) “The Language Game”, where he argues that language is like a game whose rules one must master before effective use can be achieved, the real meaning of a word is in the mind of its user, (there we go) so the problem of definition is engendered right there.
I once stumbled on a poem that reads ” you are beautiful as the stars in heaven” (Really?) Okay, but we need to analyse this. I know, I know what you are about to say ” it’s a poem”, “nature is beautiful”, (long face activated) bla bla bla.
I get that but what if the reader is not a fan of stars, what if it’s tornado instead that appeals to him or her that would mean that they (writer & reader)are not on the same wave-length.
Let’s consider another vantage point on the same issue. Life is marked by time (think of centuries) and each period (generation) has it’s own ideology that shapes it’s world view.
The way fashion in the 16th and 18th centuries is different from what is obtainable in the 21st century. So also, the way beauty was defined back then is not the way we see it now.
These concepts are in a constant state of flux. There was a time when the whole tall dark and handsome (TDH fever) gripped ladies and it was chick for them. At a time it was all about abs (Six pack fever).
These yardsticks have been used by women as a standard for judging men. There was a time when BBW (big bold nd beautiful) was chick though but in this current dispensation, two kinds of women really get a man’s attention; the slim ones and the thick ones. So tell me, is the word beautiful still one and the same??
The quest of finding the meaning and true essence of a word can be an herculean task, so often times than not, we stick with assumptions borne out of ideologies, as strong as the Empire State building, that have guided our lives from the outset.
I’m no expert but trust me, next time someone uses the word on you, you won’t too eager to blush.
Written by: Daodu, Deji Cornelius.
You’re such a wonderful beast,
You either bring trouble or add to my needs.
When I needed you the most, then would you flee,
it had always been love, now I can’t tell what I feel.
You used to be the radiant sun,
You shone for light but now you burn,
and yes you claim to be the Holy one
while we both know you are but a scum.
You said true love was all you felt,
I think you placed me under a spell,
but right now I can boldly tell,
even a voodoo won’t move my pen.
I knew you would never admit your guilt,
whether or not, I still wish you peace
’cause no one could teach me better than you did,
You’ve been such a wonderful beast.
Written by: Oluwadamilola David Yusuf
The news caster appears again to echo yesterday’s sentiments:
Monies growing wings
Agbada and Ghana-must-go bags become friends
All the while there are no horns men to sound the alarm.
Child: Father, will no one speak up against these crimes?
Father: my child, as you age in life, you start to appreciate the safety in silence.
Child sighs as justice drowns
From a distance,
Mother: my child come for your food.
Written by: Daodu, Deji Cornelius.
Episode 2Three months later
We have been married for over two months now and — I just found out I’m pregnant, the obvious result of the rape.
God, I feel so ashamed. My voyage as a wife has been bumpy and humiliating.
He repulses me now, every time he tries to touch me I feel like throwing up — the baby could be the reason behind it though. I dread telling him about my pregnancy because I don’t know how he would react.
He usually has this spell of black moods, it is ill-advised to go close to him when he is in that mood.
He has been possessive ever since we got married, sometimes, he is charming and attentive. He thinks I would go file a complaint at the police station or human right activist.
I chortled at that thought; who would believe a husband raped his wife? You are shocked too, right?
I burst out in laughter before realizing I was in the conference room with some potential clients, I blinked rapidly and the laughter died down suddenly as I felt curious eyes on me.
This was not the time to unleash my domestic problem, I realized. I cleared my throat and gathered my thoughts into the domestic folder in my head. I smiled at my clients to ease the tension and curiosity buzzing within the conference room.
I know as you read this, you are wondering who I am.
My name is Adeola Janet Aderemi, now Mrs. Adeola Janet Coker. I am married to one of the youngest CEO in the country.
Olanrewaju Coker is his name. Lanre, as he is popularly called, is the only son and child of Senator Coker and Mrs. Coker. I smile wistfully as I reminisce a little about the man I fell in love with.
Lanre is over 6 ft. tall, with alert light brown eyes. He has a pointed nose which suits his long face and naturally red colored bow lips which compliments his fair skin.
His black curly hair gave away his Caucasian descendant. I can’t decide if it was love at first sight, especially with the circumstance.
Most ladies wish to be in my position, I would gladly trade my position as his wife with any lady.
I never wish to relive the incident. The incident which has led to a pregnancy — wanted or unwanted?
I sigh mournfully, the darkness of the incident threatens to swallow me. How do I broach the subject with him?
Would I find him in a cheerful mood tonight? Does he have to know? Or should I keep the secret to myself, but for how long?
I resolve within myself to tell him…he has to know. Tonight.
#Diary of an abused Wife
Written by Okusun Mercy
The proposal came unexpectedly, I am still reeling from the proposal shock. I can’t believe it…I choose not to believe it.
The white gold engagement ring, which felt heavy on my finger, is the stark proof that he did propose to me.
My younger sisters have been “ooh-ing” and “aah-ing” over the engagement ring.
If only they knew!
It has indeed been a night of utter surprise, who knew a date night would turn into a proposal night. My mother can’t stop beaming, as her first child and daughter, she is excited to know that I am getting married.
As I stare at her smiling face, it dawned on me that I haven’t seen my mother smile in a while, since she lost her husband, my father. Her infectious laughter threatens to contaminate me, but I refuse to celebrate in this sham engagement.
My mother noticed I wasn’t smiling, she raises her eyebrow in question at me, and I shrugged in reply. I gave her a little smile and looked down at my finger where the ostentatious ring rested. The ring seems to be mocking me, it seems to say: this is the price for your silence.
The humiliation burns as the images threatens to erupt, I close my eyes to prevent it. I am not strong enough, the images spills from my memory and flashes across as tears rolled down my face.
“Deola” I heard my mother’s soft worried voice call out to me.
“Are you alright?” she asked in concern, I opened my eyes and our gazes locked. I saw concern in her brown eyes, she looked worried and scared. I parted my lips to speak, but no sound came forth.
How do I explain? How do I tell her? I asked myself these questions as her worried eyes roved over my face. My younger sisters had been alerted to my present state and I watched their happiness dim slowly.
“Sister Deola, are you alright?” Bisola, the youngest, asked. I sighed and closed my eyes in shame.
How do I tell them?
How do I tell my mother that her future son-in-law…
… Raped me.
#Diary of an Abused Wife.
Written by Okusun Mercy.
I knew I wasn’t deceived when you touched my left cheek.
I felt the warmth of blood from your soft fingertips,
I saw an angel though you were just a lady,
Brother you are lost, my mind silently told me.
I had found earlier no relevant thing,
Just trees and dead leaves that roamed freely.
The thought of being lost stirred thick within me,
I couldn’t prevent my head in confusion from ringing.
Your eyes posses such a wonderful gleam,
You ought to be special, a supernatural being.
At an attempt to offer a passionate kiss,
The couch shook and interrupted the blissful dream.
Written by: Oluwadamilola David Yusuf