I AM ANGRY! EXTREMELY ANGRY!!!
This is the very reason we have FEMINISTS – Some of you have decided to call us ANGRY WOMEN.
“Sandra’s husband wants to get married again” my mum said, plucking the oha leaves we would be using for soup.
“Ehnnn, for what?”
“Ona cho nwoke” – He is looking for a boy child.
Mind you Sandra already has THREE GIRLS!!!… The last child wasn’t up to a year when she took in again. Do you know she had serious complications and miscarried that child?
This is what the man said :
“Better to miscarry than give me another girl child”
I remember when Sandra gave birth to the last girl, my mum was the one to pass the message across and guess what this husband of hers did, HE SIGHED!
My mum always ready to use pidgin : Why you dey sigh? Na she put am dia?
Chai! I AM ANGRY!!!
In this 21st century?!
It’s the society. It’s ignorance. It’s stupidity. It’s patriarchy. It’s how women, everyday, are subjected to the background.
“I have told Sandra to pack her bag and leave. She has a job with the government. Leave and take your girls with you!!!”
“Do you know he now comes back very late at night?”
“Okwa ifu umu nwoke, ha di very stupid”
Leave, escape from betrayal! Sleep without asking myself any questions, without straining my ear at the slightest noise, waiting for a husband I share.
My mum said all these plucking away. I just sat down there, thinking.
Men have failed. That’s why we have ANGRY WOMEN!!!
“If Sandra likes she should take in again. If I were to be her, never. I’ll take my three girls and turn them into strong women in the society. If he wants to marry another wife. He should, but never would I risk my life in a bid to keep a man who has no respect for me” I said.
Her love for her children would sustain her. They would be her pillar. She owes those girls help and affection.
Gradually Sandra is breaking down. A nervous breakdown waits around the corner for anyone who lets herself wallow in bitterness. Little by little, it takes over your whole being.
And then you die…
It’s as though they’ve all been waiting. For that one who struggled with him to die. Who was there through it all to leave this world. I say this because plenty water do not pass under the bridge before you hear – I AM GETTING MARRIED AGAIN.
For me I ask ;
“How did he meet her?”
“Is it up to one year mummy?” “What about the Children?”
Often times the woman stays or never leaves his home and it’s only because of the children. But never the men.
How quick and easy; for them to get over her.
Because in the words of my mum, in pidgin language :
“After one year woman don gather courage to raise head up not to talk of to remarry?!”
This is the war for the girl child, Ucheoma, a wise woman dished this out :
…We would protect her fiercely. Never again would a fist be raised to blacken her eyes. Our eyes have been bruised for theirs to remain unharmed. We were the last generation of women to suffer abuse.
Oh Heavens, help us to teach her to leave when it gets violent; teach her to walk away when it gets manipulative.
May she be provoked to intellectual heights. May she read till she spews knowledge like her mother tongue.
Women are givers, we are taught. May she give, give genuinely, but not out of undue expectations nor out of naivety that she finds herself empty and bereft. May she give only to experience the lifting grace of liberality.
May she not be likened lesser than her male counterparts. May her genitals not be raison d’ être for mediocrity and passivity. May her gender not enslave her to lesser efforts at life and douse her zeal for greatness.
Grant her fortitude to weather the uncertainties of life; not to wilt in the face of conflict; Give to her a voice to speak up for the truths she holds dear, the truths that our hearts have been too paralysed to spill.
Give her eyes that shine like steel to wade off predators. Give her eyes warmth in the time of love.
Teach her to be kind, but may she learn that she does not hold cure to everyone’s ailment.
Oh do not give her more than she can handle. We know that we do not hold sway in all the affairs of life; we do not know how to stir away all tragedies, but help us create a safer world for her. A world that would call abusers to book rather than blame her for circumstances beyond her control.
Look upon her with favour. Suffer her to love herself first rather than seek abroad that which she can give herself .
Dear Heavens, bless the girl child.
Remember the sex of a child is determined by the man. You may want to do more research on that.