Notes of a Girl Whose Dad Owns The World
When Lois accepted Nduka’s marriage proposal, she had no idea she would be anything but blissfully happy with him. After all, he had wanted her in his life so badly, expressing his desire to date and marry her several times over the years since they first met…
When you ask Lois how she came to be trapped in an abusive marriage, she hesitates. Accepting Nduka’s treatment of her from the weeks leading up to their marriage, until now, as abuse, has been difficult for her. Continue reading.
Husband is stingy? More sex will open his hand. Husband won’t get off his behind and pull his weight financially? There’s nothing like more sex to motivate and transform a man! Husband is beating you? Satisfy him sexually; men don’t beat women who satisfy them sexually. Husband is cheating? Have more sex with him, learn different styles and tricks – this will save your marriage. Don’t you just wish? Continue reading…
In the past one year I have had to support more abused wives than ever before.
In this time, I have learnt that one of the hardest things to do is get a woman to remove herself from an abusive marriage before she is killed.
I remember in 2011 there was a walk against domestic violence sponsored by Skye Bank on the heels of the murder of Titi Arowolo. Until her death at the hands of her husband Akolade Arowolo who stabbed her 76 times, Titi was a staff of Skye Bank and mother of a little girl. In February 2014, three years after Titi’s death, Justice Lateefat Okunnu of the Ikeja High Court sentenced Akolade to death, but it is a hollow victory because it will not bring Titi back to life. Read more…
If truly a husband’s words held up a wife’s head,
Then I would walk head bowed, with my shoulders bent,
The light that once danced in my eyes all but dead
My reservoir of peace and joie de vivre, spent.
The fist proceeding from your mouth delivers blows
Your snide remarks an open palm upon my face
I start to feel the familiar seed of hatred grow
Threatening to asphyxiate my beauty and my grace
As long as you can boldly say, “I never beat her”
What does it matter if my self-esteem is now in tatters?
Or that the shreds of my joy float away like paper,
When as far as the eye can see, I have no scars?
I am earth’s treasure, jewel of inestimable price,
My value abides in me, plentiful not sparse,
So I refuse to cower under the glare of your eyes
I hold my head up high, and they think I have no scars.
My face, my back, my limbs are smooth as baby’s bottom
There are no crutches, no band aids, no doctor’s letters,
And so my lashes, my pain and tears they cannot fathom
“Did he abuse you? And if he did where are the scars?”
Mountain or molehill, it makes no difference to me,
Strength lives in my heart to love, to forgive and stay;
But when tall mountain comes crashing into salty sea,
That very strength will guide this woman’s feet away.
For Hodiya, the resilient.
anafricandiva 