He was like an enraged kickboxer going for Olympic gold.
Writhing in pain I screamed my head off as each blow hit me, my screams masking my daughters cries for her mom. Out of the corner of eye I could see her ambling her way out of the bedroom making her way towards the fracas. At nearly three years old there wasn’t much she could do.
But she did.
As I was cowardly fending off his blows... As I was cowardly fending off his blows, without fighting back, Tolu, crying too, launched herself at her father. She was tinnier than David and he was much bigger than Goliath but that didn’t deter her.
“ Leave mummy alone…leave mummy…”, she cried before resorting to the only weapon a kid her age knew how to use effectively.
She bit him.
He yelped in pain as she sank her teeth into the..
He yelped in pain as she sank her teeth into the soft flesh of his hand ; the same hand that seconds later would hit her hard across the face, sending her sprawling over the carpet.
Seeing him hit her gave me the strength that had previously deserted me. I launched myself upon him, kicking and clawing. He could hit me all he wants but not my daughter.
If it wasn’t for the timely intervention.. If it wasn’t for the timely intervention of a neighbour he would have killed me.
Mr Bayo, our next door neighbour, saw us fighting as he got out of his car and came charging to my rescue.
Heavily built, like a house, he stepped in between us and pushed my husband back and off me, restraining him before he could inflict anymore damage.
“ That’s enough!”, shouted Mr Bayo, his powerful arms. “ That’s enough!”, shouted Mr Bayo, his powerful arms keeping us apart.
Like a referee keeping two prized fighters apart, he shepherd us into the living room where he sat us apart, facing each other; I on one side nursing my bruises and him on the other still fuming.
“ Useless woman…”, he thundered from where he sat,”… I should have listened to my mother and married an educated woman!… …Look at you school cert leaver…illiterate!”
He spat out the word ‘illiterate’ as if it was a distasteful piece of phlegm. He always uses it in his defence as if my lack of a university education was the bane of all his problems.
“ Do you think I went to Oxford University in England to obtain an MBA in finance to come and marry a disrespectful useless wife like you ?”
He then launched.. He then launched into a monologue of how he spent ten years in the U.K washing dishes, scrubbing toilets and doing security work so he could earn a coveted first and second degree.
“…in my office there are plenty fine women with proper education I can marry…”
It’s not the first time he’s said this. Sometimes I wonder why he doesn’t. If it’s a woman with a university degree he wants he should.. If it’s a woman with a university degree he wants he should get one and then we’ll see what his excuse for beating her up will be.
But he does work hard. He leaves home early in the morning and doesn’t come back till late at night. Because he has a good degree and education he works in the head office of a bank as an analyst. All the calculations and computations he has to do stress him out.. I think this is what makes him angry and prompts him to lash out.
Mr Bayo managed to calm him down and after joining us for dinner and a few drinks he later went home.
As soon as our mediator was gone my husband silently headed for the bedroom, slamming the door shut after him.
I could, later, hear him mumbling to himself before getting into bed, the springs creaking, as he lay down... as he lay down switching the lights off.
As a precaution I spent the night in the kids room ; better to be safe than sorry.
The next afternoon Mrs Bayo came over to see me. Her husband had told her what happened the day before and she popped over for a heart-to-heart girlie chat.
We sat in the kitchen talking.
“ No man can lay his hands on me”, she was saying matter-of-factly... gesturing with her hands,”… because first I will fight him proper-proper and then I will tell my family who will come and finish him!”
Looking at her I had no doubt she could take on her husband if need be; she was built stoutly as he was and had hands the size of dinner plates. If it came down to it they would probably end up killing each other.
I, on the other hand, am tiny. I’m so tiny ... I’m so tiny that if there’s a strong wind it’ll probably blow me over. I don’t have the body of a fighter.
She kissed her teeth,” so you are just going to let him beat you as he pleases ?”
I didn’t know what to say and she kissed her teeth again.” Nonsense !”, she retorted,”…go and get your bag we’re going out”
I shook my head;” my husband doesn’t like me going out without him” She shook her head incredulously,”…did he padlock the front door? What’s next ? Is he going to put thunderbolt on you? I beg make we go out joo !”
I suppose I could. I won’t be collecting Tolu from the nursery until later on and he won’t be back from work till late in the evening. Nobody would know I’ve been out.
Grinning like a naughty school girl about to disobey her parents I dashed into.. Grinning like a naughty school girl about to disobey her parents I dashed into my room to put on some makeup and get my bag.
It was a fine day and we decided to go window shopping in Lekki.
As we stood at the Mile Two bus stop, a little later on, I saw him in the distance.... The shirt I had meticulously ironed this morning hung off his back, buttons undone, flapping in the vehicles’ slipstream with careless abandon as he hung precariously out of a bus’ open door shouting ; “ Oshodi-O! Oshodi-O!…Oshodi-O!”.
(Who understands this story? There is a great lesson here. Goodmorning)
