Certain events make us realize the error of our ways, by normal human nature, we only become remorseful, when we get caught doing something wrong, we ordinarily would never repent if we got away with doing evil over and over again.
Aunty Edith sauntered into the room and dropped her overnight bag on the ﬂoor. She Kicked off her heels and hung the wig on the rusty hook by the door, settling her considerable girth on a stool in front of the small dressing table as she began to rummage in the small drawer attached, where our toiletries, makeup were kept.
She ﬁshed out some cotton wool and a plastic bottle of cleansing spirit vigorously wiping off the greasepaint off her face, muttering half angrily under her breath “that osho free just used my body till the next morning, then handing me a paltry N5,000 after we had agreed on N12, 000 what am I supposed to do with that chicken feed? She asked rhetorically staring at the mirror masking her audible anger.
She ﬁnished scrubbing and simultaneously slapped a tattered shower cap on her head, then struggled out of the ultra-tight dress throwing it in a corner, as she wrapped a brown threadbare towel round her large frame, getting ready to have a bath. I rose up from the bed stretching and mumbled greetings. She Looked at me scornfully eyebrows slightly raised asking me how much I made yesterday. I rummaged under the pillow and handed her the crumpled folded Naira notes, she counted carefully and grunted as she bent down and opened the bottom drawer of the bedside cabinet where she kept our money putting it away and locking up, carefully tucking the key into her bra.
Aunty Edith had always distrusted banks feeling secure in the knowledge that I was the only one who knew where she kept our money, besides every act of theft in the compound was brutally suppressed anyway. she had informed me that banks held on to people’s money and will not return it complete anytime you needed it back, i have no idea if this is true because I have never been inside a bank before much less owned an account.
I was exhausted from yesterday though I only had few customers and two bottles of imported beer, I spent the most of the night with the old man Ambricose.
He is a constant regular of mine and has been coming for a long time, two sometimes three times a week, even before I arrived ‘Paradise Island’. The kind of ‘Igbo’ weed he brought with him yesterday knocked me out and now, I have a serious headache an after effect of that devils cigarette. I vaguely remember him warning me it was the notorious ‘kanaku Kenya’ hybrid, but the inebriating effect of alcohol induced euphoria had deadened any sense of precaution in me. I must have smoked more than normal, as the ceaseless din reverberating in my head seemed like the blacksmith in our village, hammering and shaping a tool in earnest consistent hammering on and on.
Ambricose had been a frequent customer even before I was brought here hence his shift in attention to me had created a festering jealousy in Airou, who had been his favorite before my arrival. Airou was same age as me, and well admired by many that patronized us she was blessed with an olive skin and a sort of caramel complexion the color of imported sweets displayed prominently in those supermarkets situated along the nice part of the island, her skin looked a cross between the Indians and Lebanese traders who owned sea food shops on the island, her oval face and pointed nose gave an alluring and innocent almost regal beauty seldom found in Paradise Island.
I heard from Obiri my friend who had known of her long before my arrival that she was from a place called Chad in the north, I have no idea where that is as I have never gone past our village and Paradise Island. She had informed me Aunty Celestine whom we all knew as her guardian had found Airou under the bridge, near waterside area being forcefully raped by one of the old disabled beggars under the bridge and had rescued her. She had been unable to communicate verbally then due to her age, but they were able to approximate her age at around 7years or thereabouts. Airou was brought back to Paradise Island and nursed back to health she has been with her ever since, the only real mum she had ever known. It seemed the symbiotic relationship they had, was of mutual beneﬁt and obviously worked well for both.
Even though Ambricose pays well always gentle with me unlike most of the ‘area’ boys, nevertheless often forced me to do things I don’t like. I sometimes wonder where an old man like him learnt all those depraved sexual acts, but cannot ask questions as long as he has paid Aunty who made the decisions.
Today is my birthday.
Instead of feelings of elation and Joy upon this special day, I sit wondering questioning why I am feeling this despondent. I feel much older than I am for some obscure reason that eludes me, maybe it is due to people’s remarks that I am a big woman now. A woman big enough even old enough to satisfy those countless men who have shared my bed, who have passed through me. Who knows if it had to do with experience, checkered history with older men here in Paradise Island which has matured and tested me ‘wiser’ beyond my years, Or maybe I am truly old, am i no longer a child? Or so I’m told. So maybe, just maybe.
Written By Bunmi olaniyan
Remember when you would spend endless hours on the phone with her, talking about anything and everything, your phone was always loaded, and in most cases you would ensure hers’ was loaded with call credit, just in case the network would not permit for voice calls, then you would easily switch to text messaging?
Remember how long it took you to work up the courage, just to meet her parents, and remember all the assurances of love and loyalty you gave to them, just to make them trust you?
Remember when you finally decided to propose?
Remember how you felt when she said yes?
Remember your wedding day?
Remember your vows?
Remember your wedding night? (wink)
Remember all those days when you couldn’t wait to get off work, just so you could rush home and be with her?
Remember how beautiful she always looked, even when she just got out of bed?
Remember how she listened to all your jokes, and laughed, even at the ones others never found funny?
Remember how she suddenly became a sports lover, just so she could share your moments with you?
Remember how she supported all your dreams and aspirations?
Remember when she was the “ONLY” woman you wanted and desired?
Now my dear friend, its barely two(2) years, and you don’t remember to call her, and tell her how much you love her, now you hardly remember to send her text messages, off course you still do send messages, but none ever get to her phone, now you don’t even remember to tell her how stunning she looks in that new dress, or how lovely her new hair do is.
Suddenly, she just doesn’t mean that much to you anymore.
Suddenly, you realize that she snores in bed, and always takes up too much space.
Suddenly, you begin to notice how she likes to “CUDDLE” too much.
Suddenly you realize she doesn’t cap the toothpaste after she uses it.
Suddenly you realize she is putting on too much weight, and it annoys you (even after baring you a child)
Suddenly you developed a sour taste for that egusi soup you always loved so much, and could eat for days without end, and you decide to adopt a new phrase “IS THIS ALL WE HAVE TO EAT IN THIS HOUSE”.
Suddenly, work becomes more tedious after normal working hours.
Suddenly, you prefer to spend most of your weekends with the “BOYS”.
Now, someone else is taking your attention.
Now you feel you have something better going for you.
Now you feel you have a more sophisticated woman in your life.
Now you feel you have a more submissive woman, to cater to all yours whims and desires.
Do you really believe this other woman is a better alternative?
Do you actually feel there is room for comparison?
Do you honestly believe your own lies and justifications?
You walk around with a ring on your finger, the other woman clearly sees this, she knows what it symbolizes, and yet she agrees to sneak around with you
She knows you have a family at home, and yet pretends to be your quantum of solace, she pretends to give you a safe haven from your self induced and assumed problems.
Ask yourself this simple question, if she is willing to run around with you, if she is willing to destroy the home you built with your wife, then what possible future do you have with her.
After all is said, and all the excuses are made, the bottom line is simple, all you get from her is sex.
Why go out for sex, when you can make passionate love to your wife, a woman who has given you her mind, body and soul, with no price tag attached to it.
Why don’t you see your wife for who she is, and in case you don’t know who she is, I’ll tell you, she is the woman you fell in love with.
So my dear friend, before you pick the easy route, which will lead you to more sorrow and pain.
Try to remember your wife, who she was, who she is, and who she will always be to you.
Written By Arome Ameh (The Priest)
In the morning he woke up, dressed up and left for work without saying a word, needless to say he untied me before he left, I lay on the bed with my face in the sheets, and I cried, I cried so hard my lungs and throat hurt, I only raised my head when the nanny came in, I quickly shut my room door and gave her instructions on what to do with keji.
I went into the bathroom, and tried to clean myself up the best I can, I had a swollen lip, and a slight cut above my right eye, so I applied some make up, and moved out of the house quickly so as to avoid the nanny………….,this time I was angry and I hated myself for crying, I had to take a stand, so my first stop was the hospital to get myself checked.
I got to the hospital and asked to see matron tamasi, she was shocked when she saw me, she could only just control herself from screaming, she scolded me and threatened to call the police, but I assured her that this time, I had it all under control,”Mrs Gboye she said, I beg you with everything you hold dear, leave that man, he is going to kill you eventually, think of the child you have now, do you want her exposed to such a life, hasn’t she been through enough”, those words sent a shiver down my spine, and at that very moment I realized it was not just about me anymore, it was about me and keji, and this time I was going to put a stop to it.
The next thing I did was get a new number and called amarachi, I told her everything that had happened, naturally she was outraged, but I calmed her down, told her everything was going to be alright, you see, at the point I had an unusually calm demeanor, I was not going to make any hasty decisions, my exit had to be perfect, and I was formulating a plan.
All I needed was one perfect opportunity to execute my plan, and while I waited I began to strategize on the best way to pay lawani back for all the years of pain and suffering, I know I can’t get those years back, but I was going to make him pay. I did a lot of research and my plan was taking shape, it was only a matter of time.
On the 15th of September 2010,the opportunity presented itself, it was a hard opportunity, but I was willing to make the sacrifice, Myself and keji were driving back from a weeknight church service when I decided to stop for ice cream; we pulled into an eatery, which made us 20 minutes late getting home. Lawani had gone out looking for us, and when he returned home, fully aware of this infraction and furious, he ordered me to take keji to bed.
Then, for several hours, lawani punished me, telling me,
“I’m going to do this until you pass out”.
“Then I’m going to take you out to a secluded place, slit your throat, and no one will ever know what happened”.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, after struggling on the bed, we fell in a heap onto the floor, and a burst of searing pain shot up my back; i could barely move. I was in such agony that Lawani had to lift me back onto the bed for our ritual makeup sex. Even then, he ordered me to get on top.
The level of violence he reached that night was like nothing I’d ever experienced,” “I didn’t know what he was capable of doing beyond that, and I didn’t want to find out.”
He fell asleep after we were done ,and I got off the bed and prepared some breakfast for him, but before I left the room, I took one last look at him, and for the first time I smiled, and walked out.
I prepared his breakfast and brought it to him in bed, I woke him up gently and whispered how sorry I was in his ear, yes I was the submissive wife, you see after years of abuse, lawani had taught me how switch between characters with the greatest of ease.
He rose up, looked at me and said “you see how easy life can be if you behave yourself, and with that he ate and took his coffee, when he was done he stood up and tried to walk to the bathroom, I could see he stumbled a bit, but he probably thought it was due to what had transpired the night before, I went downstairs, and called out to him to come take a look at some things I had for him, I was standing at the foot of the stairs, he walked to the head of the stairs looking very stunned, his eyes were a bit swollen and he could hardly support himself, knowing lawani the way I did, I knew his ego would never allow him admit he was weak, and so he attempted to walk down the stairs, and that’s when it happened, he missed the first step, and he came tumbling down in a heap, I watched him roll down the stairs and I didn’t move an inch, I could hear his bones crack as he hit each stair and he landed right in front of me, he was conscious but could not move, I stared at him for a minute, I could see the look of both pain and surprise in his eyes, he attempted to say something, but I quickly put a polythene bag over his head and watched him choke until he passed out, I checked his pulse, he was still alive, so I quickly ran up the stairs, picked keji up from her bed and came back down, he was still unconscious, so I picked up my phone and called the hospital, I explained what had happened and an ambulance was sent over.
Lawani was taken to the hospital, and we followed behind in my car, I called my mother and told her what had happened, so she met us at the hospital and took keji home.
The doctors confirmed he had a broken spine, he was paralyzed from the neck down, they had also carried out a scan of his head, noticed some swelling in the brain and confirmed he had suffered partial brain damage, to put it mildly, my dearest lawani had been reduced to nothing but a semi-vegetable, and in my assumed form of panic, I asked what the implications were, and I was informed that he would probably be in need of external care for the rest of his natural life, unless a miracle happened, don’t hold your breath, miracles don’t happen for demons.
I walked out of the hospital a few days later, with a sigh of relief, for the first time in a very long time, I could feel the rays of the sun, and the cool air blowing around me, don’t judge me, and was I happy, you damn right I was.
Lawani was in the hospital for a couple of months, he showed very little signs of improvement, you could tell he understood everything that went on around him, but was powerless to do anything about it.
Shortly before he was discharged from the hospital, I came into his room, and sat beside him, bent over and kissed him on the fore head and told him how he got here.
”I loved you lawani, I gave up my womanhood for you, I gave up my sanity and my humanity for you, I gave you my life, and all you gave me in return was horror and sorrow, this was no accident my dear husband, remember when I served you breakfast in bed, after that night when you chocked me and turned me into a common whore, that night made me realize no amount of love was worth all the abuse, so I slipped some pancuronium bromide into your coffee, don’t bother asking how I got it, desperate times called for desperate measures, but you were too blind and proud to realize something was wrong with you, I watched you fall, and with every crack of your bones it was like a chain being broken from my life, I put the bag over your head for just the right amount of time to knock you out, you see lawani I had done my research, killing you was going to be too easy for you, so I did this instead, and well I guess mother luck was on my side, I want you to re-live the horror you put me through these past 5 years, I want you to have a taste of hell, before you actually go there, you are my dear husband, ”for better or for worse” remember”?
Thank you for giving me keji, she made it all worth it, you are nothing but an animal lawani, a coward, a vile being, and I will savor every moment of your pain and suffering, I will watch you soil yourself, and I will watch you be the helpless little man you really are, your tears will be like nectar to me, and your pain will be like cold water on my skin”.
I walked out of the room……..and signed his discharge papers.
These days life has returned back to normal, keji is growing up healthy and strong, my ad agency is doing very well, I don’t look over my shoulder anymore, I still have nightmares once in a while, but I know it will pass, as for lawani, he is kept upstairs with his nurse who attends to him, and every now and then I walk up to his room and stare at him for minutes, I smile and walk away.
My name is Ifeoluwa ,and that was my story.
Written by Arome Ameh ( The Priest)
Read part 1 HERE
Read part2 HERE
Read part3 HERE
I left the hospital on my own, without notifying anyone, even lawani.I called a friend outside lagos and she offered to accommodate me, I was really messed up, I was angry, sad, scared and confused all at the same time,and I could not bring myself to tell amarachi, my childhood friend what had happened,mostly because I could not believe it myself,how was I going to tell her my husband beat me up,ruptured my womb,and killed our unborn baby.
I finally summoned up enough courage and told amarachi what had happened,but I was careful to leave out a lot of details,amarachi was enraged and urged me to stay as long as I needed,I had a lot of missed calls and text messages from family members and also from lawani himself,my mum was getting very worried so amarachi had to inform her of my whereabouts,unfortunately lawani was informed too,I don’t really blame them,they did’t know what was going on.
I cowered in amarachi’s bedroom closet, practically afraid to breathe. I knew my husband, lawani, would come looking for me sooner or later, and now he’d finally arrived. Have you heard from her? I heard lawani ask amarachi,who feigned ignorance.
In reality, i had been hiding out there for 4 days, ever since the incident with lawani,i had spent the previous couple of days figuring out what to do next.
Now, from the darkness of the closet, i listened as lawani began to cry. I don’t know where she is, he wept to my friend. I’m so worried. The sound of lawani’s sobbing gave me satisfaction — but also flooded me with sympathy.
He sounded so miserable.
I was flattered to realize how devastated he was by my leaving; it was proof that he really did care. I returned home the next day.
Yep, I went back for more,It wouldn’t be the last time. Over my 3-year marriage to lawani, i fled again and again, with each return plunging me into more horrifying abuse.
Let’s see: I’ve been gagged, tied up, and beaten. Stripped naked in the house.
I’ve had a gun pulled on me, and knives held to my throat. The abuse got pretty wicked. And yet, despite the violence — which was so extreme that a nurse once warned me, “On a danger-level scale of one to 10, you’re an 11” — but I kept going back.
You might wonder why on God’s green earth I kept going back,put your self in my shoes,I married lawani as a woman,less than a year into our marriage,I lost my pregnancy and also the major component that defines me as a woman,I lost the very essence of motherhood to the man I loved,after the incident lawani and I had a long deep talk,he begged and apologized for what he had done,looking deep into his eyes,he was genuinely sorry,he even convinced me we could adopt a child,he spoiled me at the slightest opportunity,and yes being a human being I gradually began to forget .
He made me quit my job,reason being that he wanted me to adjust to the role of home maker in preparation for the arrival of our so called adopted child,on the surface it appeared to be a genuine reason,but he was slowly isolating me.
Lawani began making excuses for not coming home right after work, sometimes staying out all night drinking.
Stranded at home,i burned with resentment and hurt. “We did everything together ,at some point we were best friends.But gradually, he basically disappeared.
Lawani was not much fun to be around anymore: He needled Me about what i had done each day — whom i had seen, what we’d discussed — peppering our conversation with barbs, telling me that the dinner I had cooked was awful, calling me fat and dumb.
One night, Lawani surprised me by coming home early from a party. “What, the party wasn’t good enough for you?” I asked jokingly. Lawani backhanded me across the face. “What I do is my business,” he snarled.
“It was like he was talking to a dog. He ordered me to apologize for smarting off”.
I stared at him, my cheek stinging. I was filled with shock, fear — and also an overwhelming shame. Here was the man i loved, whose regard for me was so important, and now he was looking at me with contempt, I just wanted this ugly moment to end, to make the hurt and fear and humiliation go away. And so, although i knew i had done nothing wrong, i apologized. It took at least an hour of groveling to convince lawani i was truly sorry. “All right, I’ll forgive you this time,” lawani wearily said to me.
Then he led me into the bedroom for makeup sex. “I had to turn off my brain to get through it.
In the morning, lawani was back to his playful self — cracking jokes while we dressed for church, looking handsome as he combed his hair into a neat wave, I smeared foundation onto my bruised cheek and resolved to move on, after all, i rationalized, i wasn’t going to leave. i still loved him and was going to stick it out — if not for my own sake, then for the sake of our marriage. “I wanted the best for us,and our soon to be adopted child.
This decision may seem hard to fathom, but in fact, i was using an emotional logic many of us can relate to.
In any relationship, we try to make things work out, you later look back and say, I wish I’d broken up with him sooner. So i kept the episode to myself. I certainly didn’t want anyone to know the truth about me now: that i was the kind of woman who’s got slapped and stayed.
Shame is a huge factor, modern women are meant to be independent, and if someone does something like that to you, it’s over.
No one wants to be known as the woman who puts up with it.”
I assured myself the worst was over. It wasn’t: Lawani began accusing Me of all manner of sins — lying, cheating, not serving his meals quickly enough — and his slaps turned to all-night beatings.
His favorite thing was to sit on my chest and hold a pillow over my face, he’d scold me, “If you hadn’t done this, I wouldn’t have to punish you.” i heard his message loud and clear.
I was to blame for the violence; peace would be restored if only i would submit to his demands. So i did my best. “I still loved him, and I was sure I could fix this.
So I tried to be the perfect wife.
In case you missed part one, view it here Jaws Of Death- The Ifeoluwa Story PT1
Also kindly view my press release HERE
Written By Arome Ameh (The Priest)
And so it happened, one Ese Walter came out to accuse one pastor Biodun Fatoyimbo of one church called COZA of having a sexual affair with him, and also claimed some form of abuse in the process, well that word “abuse” struck me, I have read her article or confession or whatever you choose to call it, and honestly I really don’t see any form of abuse here.
The word has been used very loosely and I aim to correct an impression, from what I have read over and over again, there was no form of abuse on any level, the only time abuse ever came up was when she claimed to be drinking and smoking in excess to cover the guilt and shame she felt, and that was self-abuse, why would she claim abuse in this matter.
You had an affair with your pastor, you became guilty and in the beginning of your speech you decide to claim form of abuse? Seriously
Now let’s look at some excerpts of her story
“While there, he sat on a reclining chair and asked me to come sit on his laps. This was a bit awkward for me and I froze for a moment as I asked why. He said he had told me to feel free with him and loosen up. I found myself strolling to sit on his laps. At that moment, I felt like a little girl who was experiencing something her mind couldn’t fathom. He asked me to kiss him and all I could think about was seeing him preach on the pulpit back in COZA Abuja, Nigeria, which was my home church. He again said ‘feel free Ese.’ And asked again, that I kiss him.
A few hours later, let’s just say, we were rolling under the sheets. It felt as though my mind had paused. I am not saying I was jazzed, (although it’s possible I was in some trancelike state and didn’t know it but I just was so afraid that I couldn’t say or think otherwise.) That was the beginning of this affair. A sexual affair that went on for a little over a week, DAILY!
I can hear somebody’s mind thinking, ‘well, you weren’t raped.” And I remember a pastor I opened up to when I couldn’t take all the mind games asking if I seduced him. No, I didn’t seduce him and no, I wasn’t raped but I felt trapped in this affair.”
If you noticed I underlined a word and a sentence, the word “asked” was used and there was no point she mentioned he ordered her to do anything, there was no mention of the use of force or if she was ever rough handled, she never made mention of him ever black mailing her, or using any form of intimidation, she found herself strolling to sit on his laps, the key word being strolled and not dragged, pulled or forced, and a few hours later, they were rolling under the sheets, she wasn’t pinned to the bed, gagged or taken by force, they were rolling under the sheets, and it went on for a little over a week.
Look, let’s get real here, where does abuse come into play, a sexual affair between two consenting adults cannot be termed as abuse, especially when there is no physical or mental evidence of any form of abuse.
I am not here to take sides with anyone, all I am here to say is simple, the lady claims to have had an affair with the pastor right? The pastor has not issued any counter claim, I doubt if he will, a simple change of heart, attack of conscience or maybe spite propelled her to release her story, flawed as it may be, we will never really know her genuine reason, I just want her to be mindful of her accusations, using the word abuse is a very strong and should not be used as a tool to draw sympathy and make you appear to be the victim, after all she contradicted herself on more than one occasion in her story.
My advice, if you are having a consensual sexual affair with someone you ought not be with, chances are eventually one or both of you will get burned, and in the case of one person getting burned and the other trying to move on, don’t use abuse as a yard stick to get your pound of flesh, if Ese Walters is claiming abuse, what will the children who were molested by their parish priest in Ireland claim,….. Murder?
On a parting note, use the right words in the right context, and stop seeking undue attention using trigger words like abuse, and before I forget, Ese Walters, and others out there, don’t sleep with your pastors, and pastors out there, your congregations are people looking up to you for salvation and not your personal harems.
By The Priest
Finally i did it, my first book “Drowning Fish” has been published on Amazon’s Kindle.
Drowning Fish, is a true life account of a woman thrown from a life of love and commitment into a life of abuse,rape, and brutality by the very man she thought she loved and whom she thought loved her, it’s a roller coaster ride of emotions and revelations and i know many of my numerous readers the world over will relate to this and also learn from the book.
So please follow this link http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00C8P3886, make your purchase and invite others to do the same, part of the proceeds from sales of this book will be geared towards the rehabilitation of as many survivors as we can assist, once again hit this link http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00C8P3886, make your purchase and invite others to do so.
Arome Ameh (The Priest)