It’s Feature Friday on my BBM channel (FICFAC C0014488E) when I post stories written by subscribers and offer a critique.
My beauty sleep comes to an abrupt end when the noise from the radio bursts into my ear. “Happy Independence Day Nigeria.” Rubbing my face I smile and hug myself. Reluctantly, I get out of bed and head to the bathroom, looking at my now aging face in the mirror I remember five years ago how young and vibrant I was, apple of the eyes of a thousand, slim and fair, face beautiful as ever with firm round breasts complimenting my features, which is now the opposite of what it was. I feel betrayed by my eyes and grudgingly take my eyes off the mirror.
“I don’t think I’m ready for this mama,” I had said four years ago.
“It is too sudden and I have not even met him more than once”
“It is not Onye, this is your third marriage you are not getting younger.”
“The same mistake you do every time, I have been submissive enough all these years, let me choose whomever I want, I’m sure this time it will not end in a disaster like the others,” I said stomping out in anger.
Almost immediately, I leave the bathroom, dump a bag on the floor and I start to rummage for the clothes that will not remind me of Uti. After searching for some minutes, I’m only able to see a few traditional attire, three jean trousers, few blouses and a gown. I spread one of the trousers and a blouse on the bed. “I’ll wear this,” I mutter, smiling as I start packing the remaining neatly into the bag.
Few months later I was dancing to a song with a cup of palmwine in my hand looking disdainfully at my new smiling husband. I had been adorned in beautiful red waist beads and red wrist beads, with a flowing black gown which I had intentionally chosen to speak out the anger, sadness and bane I felt inside of me. I looked around as I danced round the stage with my husband, my parents smiling, everyone talking excitedly. Nice. Everyone was happy except me. That same afternoon I had gone to my parent’s room to bid them farewell, the anger in me climaxed when I glanced at the baskets of goodies my husband’s family had brought, I promised myself to return every dime that was brought because of me. I went out in anger to meet my husband. “It is time,” I said, we left my parents place and we never went back.
I go into the bathroom again, avoiding the mirror this time. I take my bath. A very short bath. I will not like it if too much time is wasted and Uti finds me home. In haste, I comb my hair, wear the clothes I had kept on the bed, the trousers already tight, I struggle and wiggle in it, before I can finally pull it past each thigh. Fully dressed, my lips broaden into a big smile. “The time has finally come,” I say.
We had gotten home in silence that day. I was in between taking off my gown, when he suddenly grabbed me and started tearing all the clothes I had on. “Please, I don’t think I’m ready for this” I cried. Like a lion he devoured me, under his whole strength I laid crying helplessly as he helped himself. I was raped on my wedding night and every night I spent in his house.
In about six months, the marriage already bore me, we never communicated. The companionship between man and wife was completely lost in our marriage. Like a dutiful wife, I cooked, washed, swept, cleaned and satisfied him without any complain. I could only endure for two years. I decided to seek refuge from my mother. I explained everything going on in my marriage to her and we decided that she spoke with him. Uti flared up when he got home, he was really angry, throwing anything within his reach at me. He was shouting repeatedly “I married you, you give me whatever I want, and I can do whatever I want with you.” I sat at the corner of the room nursing my wound, drowned in my own tears.
After the last ordeal between us, Uti stopped coming home. He came home once in a blue moon. And anytime he comes, he closes the door, push me to the bed and rape me. Afterwards, he would drop some money on the bed beside me and then went back to wherever he came from. Months went by, I continued to endure, until the day a neighbour visited me.
“Do you know that your husband has another family in this vicinity, his other wife gave birth to his 3rd son today?” I couldn’t believe my ears. My eyes swollen with tears, I stuttered.
“Eer…are you sure of what you are saying?”
“I’ve never been more sure of something in my life, I went to see my mother in the hospital yesterday. I was waiting for the doctor when I heard the doctor say “congratulations it’s another boy” to someone, when I looked towards the person I saw that it was your husband, then I decided to see for myself. I sneaked behind him and saw him go into the ward to see the woman. She was carrying her baby, I also saw two other young boys standing next to her bed. They both looked exactly like Uti.”
I followed my friend to see for myself. I met them exactly the way she had said it, the two boys looked like Uti. The mother was sleeping gently on the bed with the baby cradled in her arms. I cried helplessly, river of tears flowed from my eyes, I had been used in yet my third marriage. I had been married legitimately, my own husband turned me into a whore. I went into the room, staring at the boys. They really look like Uti, they have the same miniature nose and wide mouth like Uti.
“Good affun ma.”
“How are you?” my voice croaky as I replied.
Immediately, the woman aroused from her sleep and gently put the baby in the cot beside her.
“A cute little baby, looks exactly like his father,” I said smiling at the woman.
“Do I know you?” asked the woman.
“No,” I said smiling.
“I’m…never mind, it doesn’t matter. Where is Uti?”
“He’s not here, I’m his wife, what do u want to tell him?”
“Just tell him Onye, his legitimate wife came to see his children.”
I left her dumbfounded, I smiled at her before I left the room. My smile turned into tears as I left the hospital. I went home angrily and cried my eyes out. I cried not out of jealousy or Uti. I cried because that was the third time the same thing would happen to me. Every man I marry take advantage of me and leave me with nothing but regrets. “No man will ever treat me this way again,” I said with tears of determination trickling down my face.
Uti came home with anger the same day. I have never been beaten that severely in my life. I almost died. He never uttered any word while he was bumping his fist on me, after he was through with me, he left without glancing at me for once. Friends and family could not keep Uti from changing his mind about me, he totally hated me. He stopped coming home. I wondered what he felt about me when he asked my hand in marriage. Every night I hated my parents and cursed myself for accepting to marry such beast.
I pick up my phone and send a short text to Uti. “When you are ready, come and get your bride-price in the house. I will never be anyone’s whore,” my fingers shaking while I type. I pick up the baskets and arrange the same things I saw in the baskets in my parents’ house in them.
Yesterday evening, I had just finished preparing dinner for myself when I heard the doorbell. I checked the peephole and saw Uti standing at the door. Surprised, I opened the door for him. “Perhaps he’s realized his mistakes,” I thought. Like he always do he pushed me down to the floor and started pulling my skirt, with all the strength I had in me I kicked him away from me and started to run towards the kitchen. He yanked my hair and pulled me to him, his eyes red with rage. I struggled hard and tried to move away from him, but his strength was beginning to overpower mine. I bit his arm so hard that he freed me immediately. He winced holding his bruised arm while I had the chance to run to the kitchen and lock the door. In haste I picked a knife, breathing hard I waited for him while he was working on the locks, within minutes the door was open. He was coming towards me in anger when I brought out the knife and pointed it in his direction. “If you come near me, I swear I will kill you,” I shouted. He was still moving towards me, I did not move an inch away from him. When he saw I was serious about me killing him he moved away saying; “Nice try, today is your day, enjoy it.” Then he left. I heaved a sigh of relief. “Good riddance,” I said smiling.
I carry the baskets and put them on the bed. Looking at the bed I reminisce about how Uti used to sexually assault me. I shake my head vigorously to take the thought away from my head. I carry my bag ready to leave. I’m about to open the door when I see my wedding ring still in my finger, I remove it with anger and throw it on the bed next to the baskets. I close the door and let the cool breeze take over my body. I feel liberated. Happy Independence Day to me.
Comments
• Legibility: Try and make your story graphically easy on the eye. If it’s cluttered with typos, lack of punctuation and the dialogues garbled, no one will want to read. As much as I wanted to leave this unedited, I had to fix some of the punctuation errors to enable easier reading. Learn the proper use of the full stop and comma. Also, to avoid confusion, you should demarcate dialogue from the rest of the story as much as possible.
• The story’s use of the Independence Day as a motif, has a great appeal but in the handling it lost some of what could have been achieved. It’s actually forgotten until the end of the story. It becomes something peeking out of the story instead of being the strand that unites the story into a whole.
• The handling of flashback or digressions – because this is something that happened in the past it should not make the bulk of your story and should be well woven into your story. For a short story as this one, you need to handle digressions well because you don’t have so much space to tell a very long story. At the start, up to the middle of the story, it wasn’t clear if Uti was still part of Onye’s life. It’s at the end that the reader gets the idea that the beginning was actually a day after her independence from Uti. As much as there’s no one formula to writing a story, imagine how strong the story could be if it actually tells the “independence” day itself and we get to know about the past through the digressions?
• Use of ‘longish’ dialogue – The part where the neighbour related what she saw went on too long. It tilts the narrative pattern and pulls the reader out of the story, which is Onye’s story to tell. So, one wants to know what the neighbour saw but mostly through the eyes of Onye – It’s a 1st person narrative.
• Show don’t tell – An example: “I cried helplessly, river of tears flowed from my eyes…” The first half is telling the emotion while the second half shows it. Showing strengthens your narrative. The first half can be done away with and nothing will be lost in the story.
• Use of Language – try to use realistic language especially in your dialogues. Ask yourself questions like: how does Uti speak? What mannerism from her socio-cultural background will reflect in her language? Try to avoid stiffness.
• Overall, I think the story has a good framework and just needs more work.
What are your thoughts on Ololade’s story, please share in the comments below.
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