We will not allow you to keep our daughter in such a house. A two-bedroom flat for that matter! It is not even a duplex. No! Thank God we had seen this before giving our daughter off to a pauper.
My mother-in-law and her sisters had said the statements above. I just knew I had lost the love of my life. They returned everything I had sent, the gifts and clothes and even attempted to give me back my money. This is all because of a two-bedroom flat I had procured.
I didn’t know that the house could make them change their mind. I thought it was about building a family together – a successful future. I thought my bride-to-be would fight for our love, but I was surprised when she married Alhaji Shehu’s son a month after our disengagement.
I don’t understand these people. I wonder if they realize it’s not all about a fancy wedding. Do these people try to find out about their prospective in-laws, or do they give their daughter out based on the impression a family makes?
My Dad used to tell me that even if he was rich, I could be poor. What he owned was his. The two-bedroom flat was mine. I bought it with my money. I had a business in my name. Although my dad helped me with capital, I worked hard for what I had, and the wedding I planned was based on my budget.
What was the use of a wedding that made you go bankrupt afterwards? Weddings are crazily expensive nowadays. The lefe, bridal shower, Kamu, you name it.
On the other hand, Alhaji Shehu sponsored the whole wedding. He needed it glamorous because he was an important person in society. You and I can understand that. It seems my love and her husband were going to be fed from Alhaji Shehu’s wealth.
What baffles me is how her family didn’t care about what happened later.
Somehow, I don’t blame her. This materialistic mentality is what she grew up with. I am grateful I got out before bills wrapped my neck like chains. She was always after the latest things in town and will rather attend every wedding ceremony.
To so many families, social status was more important than the future. They wanted to show off and be the talk of the town. I know I’m not the only one affected by this, but a bunch of others are as well.
Would you rather watch your child live unhappily in wealth or see them happy?
Some might say I’m pushing them to marry their daughters off to paupers, but please try to make research on who your daughter is getting married to.
I am glad to state that the marriage didn’t last. Call me names, if you will. It turned out Alhaji Shehu had a son out of wedlock, an agola, and his gift to the boy was sponsoring the glamorous wedding. They eventually had to sell the house. In three months, my sweetheart was returned to her home.
I didn’t blame Maryam Sanda when she was found guilty of stabbing her darling. I wish I had her courage. I am in shackles. They used to have roses growing on them before now but all have finally become rusty old chains around my neck, arms, and feet.
I cry all the time. I lay close to a man I don’t recognize anymore. Every day he changes, bringing more and more rules to the house. I dare not say no to him. I must make all his meals, wash his clothes, not talk to the neighbors or leave the house to visit anyone, not even my parents.
My sister was very ill once, I had pleaded with him to allow me to see her. He refused, stating that I was going there to embarrass him as I wasn’t fat. He claimed not to know what was wrong with me and said that I alone knew what was eating me up.
If he didn’t remember maybe I should remind him that he rarely leaves anything for me to cook with. Until he gets back from work we don’t eat. He would give me just enough money for one person’s meal and I would have to search around for ingredients and cook with the firewood I had cut down from the only tree in the compound.
It is not like he didn’t have enough money to cater to us both but he was just very stingy.
When we first got married, he’d told me that he had gone bankrupt while preparing for the wedding. I had to sell a few of the things I came with to provide food for us. As time went by, I realized he was just like that. He was a miser.
Sometimes when my mother called him for assistance, he would become pissed and breathe fire and brimstone. He would call me and make me kneel, and then he’d go ahead to insult me, my family, and my ancestors. I’d have no option but to cover up in front of my family.
My clothes are getting old and worn out. I have only one pair of shoes and walk barefoot in the house. For once, I never complained. I still did my duties and stayed loyal to my dear husband.
Once our neighbors, who were married had come to see me when he was not at home. They sympathized with me and gave me foodstuff and clothes. They told me they usually overhear his incessant tantrums and hoped that things would get better one day.
My happiness was short-lived because I didn’t know who told him about their visit. He became very angry and insisted that I had taken our matrimonial issues to a third party. He even threatened to divorce me.
I didn’t like the way he treated me neither did I have a place I’d go if I decided to leave. I had no skill. I studied a course I didn’t like and couldn’t practice it. My parents would not take me back. This was supposed to be my home. I didn’t make any other plans except to get married and settle.
I had our daughter at the beginning of the second year of our marriage. She brought forth joy and glad tidings. Even my miserly husband had spent money on her naming ceremony although he hadn’t bought a single baby wear when I was pregnant.
My daughter gave me strength. I no longer felt the effects of his abusive words. Anytime he complained, I’d simply promise to amend and smile at him. He wasn’t very happy about this and so he began to hit me.
Once, I didn’t know how I had dropped a plate by mistake. He saw it as an opportunity to beat me black and blue. While curled up close to the armchair, my baby began to cry. I stood up to run to her but he pulled me by my hair and continued beating me. I suddenly realized I could get myself killed and have my daughter live with this monster.
I grabbed a piece of broken plate and jabbed his foot. I quickly picked up my daughter and ran to our neighbors.
I had to choose to live with the abuse or stay alive divorced. Since I am here to narrate this lovely story, you can say I chose the latter. I do not know the current state of my husband but I and my daughter are alive and well.
I scrolled through Facebook reading posts to keep myself away from boredom, reacting to funny posts and commenting on some.
“I will take a leap of faith and settle down!” These were the exact words written on the post. The man who made that statement had found his missing rib only for their genotypes to be the forbidden match AS and AS. It seems they were not ready to let go of each other due to emotional attachment.
I was bemused by the post, so people can be this heartless. Did they know the pain their child was going to go through? They would have to pause their entire life for one child. May it not happen but imagine that they had two or three kids born with Sickle Cell Anaemia.
I sat in my chair and shook my head. If I was a sickler and I grew up to learn that my parents had gone ahead with their marriage after knowing what the result would be, I would never forgive them.
I have been here for the past one week with my son. My coworker had called me to let me know that our boss was considering putting me off work for absenteeism. It was just that he knew people would blame his lack of empathy for a woman with a sickler.
Do you think that love would continue to grow when you see your child in pain and know that your selfishness is the cause of it? Guilt will eat up that love. One partner might start to get tired and the other would feel the burden and a family crisis might follow.
My case is a bit different, we had done multiple tests before I and my husband tied the knot which had confirmed that my genotype was AS and my husband AA. That was relatively safe until our fourth child had fallen ill. The tests were taken again and behold there was a medical mistake.
A mistake I’m paying for sitting in this chair. I went through comments on the post with some people saying that they should carry on for “love conquers all!” others thought that the sickler gene was an illusion or a demon and that God could heal people from it. Bravo! My fellow compatriots. Your ignorance is fueled by pride and blinded belief.
To those who want to be shocked and refuse to know their genotype before getting married. Kudos! May your lucky charm pay your bills and help you sustain your family if you end up in my shoes.
Know your genotype before jumping head first because of love. Try to make it one of the first things you know about your partner. May your children not fall victims to your arrogance or negligence.
I hope to hear of fewer and fewer cases of Sickle Cell Anaemia in the future.
One night, the whole family was watching the television after dinner. As usual, I was with my phone as Telenovelas were not as interesting as Kamal, my new boyfriend.
My dad had walked in. My brothers had whined in protest before my dad even held the remote. We knew he’d always tune to the news channel which was more boring than the telenovela they have engrossed in a few minutes ago.
It still happened. The news was as boring as ever. They were talking about how common the abuse of drugs was becoming in society. My dad’s eye widened. He looked at his boys and asked,
“I do hope none of you is involved in any of these rubbish habits.”
They mumbled their replies in the negative.
“If I find any one of you with those boys a unguwa. You will know who I really am.” He threatened.
I paused, as I had been typing the whole time. What about me? No one suspected that I could abuse drugs.
It started with cough syrup. My friends in school had rumored that Hadiza had been buying cough syrup of late even though she wasn’t sick. They said that she drank the whole bottle at once and acted funny afterward. I wanted to know how it felt so I pretended to have a cough.
I soon joined Hadiza in buying those cough syrups from time to time. We became very close friends. We mostly did it at her house since she had a room to herself.
For once my parents never suspected. My lips grew dark from shisha and my teeth had changed color. I used lipstick to cover it up all the time. My mom applauded me for using more make-up unlike a few years back. My Dad watched my brothers closely, he was like a hawk looking for a chick on the ground. The thing is, he’s looking in the wrong direction, for this chick was on his back and she learned to go with the tide of the wind.
I got married last year and until now I still abuse substances. My husband had reported to my family that he didn’t understand why I drank children’s medicine after finding a couple of them in the trash. They all don’t see that it is not only males that go into drugs and smoking. I am a drug addict and I need serious help as I can’t concentrate at work without abusing substances.
I am telling you this story so that as parents, we should not be biased when treating some issues because both genders can be affected. Say no to drugs!
There I was in front of Umaima’s house, waiting for her to come outside. I have been coming to see her for a month now. I hoped to make my intentions known to my parents as soon as possible.
Little did I know that Umaima would be getting married soon. She sent her little brother a letter to explain everything. You could say my sky became gloomy that night. I knew I got home with the map infused in my head by years of plying the same route as I couldn’t get myself to understand why this had to happen.
I held the door and entered. The first room in our small yard was mine. No one was going to see my face like this. It was embarrassing. There were footsteps outside my room that alerted me a couple of minutes later. A gentle tap on my door, followed by a whisper.
“Yaya, are you home?” My sister asked.
“Yes! I am. You can lock the door.” I replied.
She did that every single day. Our parents were old so they couldn’t stay up late. I heard her use the latch and then dragged the huge stone we normally used to block the door. We have been living life like this for years. God has been our only protector.
“Sai da safe!” Her tiny voice whispered before she finally went to bed.
I was indeed depressed by what Umaima did. Funny enough, the wedding Fatiha was going to hold very close to our house at the central mosque. For that reason alone, I stopped going out.
My sister was a very loving young woman. It was the state of my heart that made me notice her smile and poise structure. Her beauty was intoxicating, as I watched her wash her hair one evening. My mom was making dinner and I noticed the smoke was getting into her eyes. I immediately walked up to her and picked up the woven fan blowing the firewood until flames burst forth.
“Any lady who gets Yaya as a husband should count herself lucky.” My sister said with admiration.
I smiled, I didn’t know she admired me the same way I did her. That night I sat down thinking, what if there wasn’t anyone meant for me.
No one had ever made me feel the way my sister did. Could it be possible that I was in love with my own sister?
As usual, she had knocked gently at the door, waiting to hear my voice tell her that I was in but that voice never came. She opened the door slowly to check if I was fast asleep and found me sitting on my sleeping mat.
She had come closer and knelt in front of me for an inspection, the scent of smoke, shampoo, and last night’s soup filled my nostrils. It was so attractive to me at that point. I didn’t know how things moved from there. I just knew I found myself on top of her, with my head on her chest.
There is one thing that people do not understand. Humans are made in such a way that closeness with another person for a long period makes you feel something for them. Lust. It didn’t care with whom it just showed up.
Before we knew it we were both naked. She was giggling as I touched her. Her innocence amused me. It made me want to go further, deeper, and get ecstatic vibes. Indeed, she was my sister but I had lost control.
“Indo! Where are you?” Our mother screamed.
That was what brought us back. She quickly started dressing up and rushed outside before she answered.
I was left shivering, a moment of weakness with a whisper from the Devil could make you do things you never knew you would.
