Our versions of woes

‘What happened? What led to the divorce? She asked. ‘Nobody knows.’ Maryam, who was seated on the high table next to me answered. ‘Apart from some mood swings which he exhibited and which Asabe construed as a passing phase, there was nothing to suggest that their marriage was in mortal danger.’ She explained. ‘I think […]

‘What happened? What led to the divorce? She asked.

‘Nobody knows.’ Maryam, who was seated on the high table next to me answered. ‘Apart from some mood swings which he exhibited and which Asabe construed as a passing phase, there was nothing to suggest that their marriage was in mortal danger.’ She explained.

‘I think she is lucky to have known where he was headed so early.’ Maimuna  contributed from the floor.

‘What do you mean?’ Maryam asked her.

‘Well, with me it took five good years of such emotional torture before he decided to end it all. Of course it started with the mood swings, then the refusal to eat our food, the locking up of the bedroom door, in fact all manifestations of estrangement before finally, in the fifth year, he called it quits’.

‘Why did you tolerate that for so long?’I asked.

‘Mainly because of the children. You know, the very thought that they could end up in the hands of a stranger and possibly be maltreated by her is enough to make you withstand a lot. By the time he issued the divorce my youngest was ten years old. I suppose that was what he himself calculated.’ Maimuna  explained.

‘But didn’t you try to find out what the moods and co. were all about? Maryam asked.

‘I did, but talking to him didn’t help. He kept saying there was nothing wrong, he just needed to be by himself. I took the matter to our elders but all intervention didn’t help. I, on my own, chose to be patient and tolerate everything for the sake of my children.’ She replied.

‘I agree with her that Asabe was lucky to have had her own short and sharp, so to speak. I am not divorced yet but I am going through all that Maimuna has gone through and more. I say more because in addition to all she said, my own husband doesn’t talk to me, if he has anything he wanted me to know he will seek out one of the children and tell them. If there is no one around, then he keeps it to himself until he returns from work and meets them back from school.’ Halimatu, also from the floor said.

‘But why the malice-keeping?’ I asked.

‘That one started after I reported the other instances to our elders. God knows I wanted our marriage salvaged and Islam says bring in your elders when you can’t solve your problems on your own. So I did. It was after this intervention that the malice started. Of course, he scolded me thoroughly after the elders I invited had left, accusing me of advertising our affairs to the world etc, etc. And for your information ‘the world’ just included my uncle and his aunt.’ She explained.

 ‘I still think you are better off than me Halimatu.’ Mariya, who was sitting next to her said. ‘Though your husband does everything you said, at least he lives in the same house with you, which not only heightens the chances of reconciliation but also gives a sense of security to both you and the children.  In my own case, he did everything you said including the malice, but also secretly sought a transfer from his office to a place 500 miles away. Just before leaving, he took another wife and now I see him only when he decides to look our way. That could be anything between six and eight weeks. The fact that seven innocent children need him for guidance and security just doesn’t bother him. He has no feelings of guilt where they are concerned. Of course he talks to them every few days on phone but that can never make up for his physical presence. They ask for him all the time, they cry for him when they are sick or wounded and it makes me feel like a widow. I cry myself to sleep sometimes wondering how a man can abandon a family of eight and just start a new life as if we don’t exist.’  Mariya concluded.

‘My late Grandma used to say, if you see a man changing in attitude, or running away from home, there must be something chasing him away.’ I said. ‘I remember how she used to say to me ‘look and act feminine Gimbiyata, burn the incense, a man can easily be chased away by funny smells around the house.’ Then she would look at my hand and say ‘always do the henna, which man will be attracted to hands that look like his?’ I am relating to us this gospel- according- to -Grandma because I want us to do some introspection. Are we trying to please our men? Are we also doing everything right by them? Or are we taking them for granted until they begin to hit back?’ I challenged my fellow MPs to a debate.

To be continued.