African women are the least respected when compared to those from other parts of the world. They rarely get the love, respect, and care they truly deserve. Over the years they have been able to keep the home together, help their men, and keep alive the African dream. However, all or most of all these have gone largely unrewarded; and to an extent taken for granted. Somehow along the line, they have been able to free themselves from the shackles around their legs through various liberation programs, education, and access to information.

Bolaji’s sad story paints the picture of what some African women go through in their homes. In this first part of her story, Bolaji tells us how she met her husband and how she has been turned into a slave in her home…

Here is the third part of Bolaji’s story—please read and learn from it…

My husband rose up from where he was seated and started raining words of abuse and accusations on my head. He accused me of cheating on him by sleeping with neighbours. He even said he has been suspecting me all these while each time I go to his friend’s place to iron his clothes—he accused me of freely opening my legs for every man around. He said I am a “cheerful giver” and that he would tach me a lesson I would never forget in a hurry. He barely finished that sentence when I felt a heavy blow beneath my jaw; with blood gushing out of my nose and mouth after several punches, I could hear our neighbours gathering at our door.

There were endless knocks at the door before I passed out and woke up at the hospital with stitches on my face and drip on my hand. My face was so disfigured that one of the sisters in our church was afraid to give me a mirror when I asked for one. It was a terrible experience and the only word that kept coming out of my mouth was: “Lord why all these sufferings?” Haven’t I suffered enough for getting pregnant before marriage? Haven’t I suffered enough for my sin?

Two days after the beating my mum came to Ibadan and started raging; but I wasn’t impressed because she and my dad as well as myself are the only persons I can blame in all of these.

I wanted to leave Deji, my mind was made up, but I just couldn’t face him to tell him that—I was just too scared of being landed another round of beating. I also thought of my kids, which my mum kept hammering on as my only hope. She (my mum) wanted me to pack my things and leave Deji’s house—but she was scared that I might be stigmatized by the society for being a “second-hand wife.” My dad too wanted me to pack my things and leave my husband’s house, but his ego and past deeds just wouldn’t let him say it with his mouth. What’s the difference between six and half a dozen; my dad and Deji are just the same when it comes to treating women.

All I needed was courage to take the right step and decision—if only my mum could match her words with action by helping me to pack my things and calling the bluff of Deji. She wasn’t raised like that—like most African women mum is accustomed to suffering and serving her husband as a slave regardless of how many punches aimed at her beautiful face.

So I thought it was a waste of time waiting for her to help me decide my destiny and destination. I needed courage and someone to hold me by the hand and say “pack your things and come stay with me for a while…”

Eventually that God-sent person showed up in the person of a friend who is like a sister to me. I don’t want to mention her name because my husband might start persecuting her if he finds out.

As I write this, I am not with my husband because I have moved out with just one of my kids. I am with a friend until I make up my mind on the next step—I just had to leave in order to save my life.

Dear readers, women all over the world are being abused wherever they live and wherever they go. The word submissive is being misinterpreted and abused by men. They treat women all over the world as slave and cast all sorts of aspersions on them as if they are beggars without choice.

Even as I write this, Deji is still searching for me and sending all kinds of threatening messages through sms and WhatsApp to me. He is threatening to deal with me if I don’t come and carry my two kids I left with him or at least pack the rest of my things from his house.

Like it or not, “abuse is real” and until we understand what the word submission in marriage is, women in Africa will continue to suffer.

That is the end of Bolaji’s story; perhaps you have a word or a line to drop for her, you can do that in the comment section in order to give succour to a woman that has decided to put an end to her sufferings in the hand of a man who does not value her one bit.

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