It was 8 o’clock that morning and I was
already dressed in my black dress, black
shoes and no make-up, with my brushed
hair in a pony tail. I was heading to Yaba for
a friend’s funeral.
She was 35 and beautiful, a mother of two
beautiful children. I really did not want to go
because I was not sure of how I was going
to react. I was not sure if I could pull myself
together.
Anyway, I got to the church and it was filled
with people who knew her and who had
heard of her. As I approached the church, I
was already battling with the huge lump in
my throat, making sure that I could at least
sit through the service. I managed to get
inside, and then the ushers took me up-
front to sit with the family. I saw her mother
and siblings who were weeping
uncontrollably, so I tried to console them
while battling with that same lump in my
throat. I did all I could until the kids walked
into the church with the nanny. Oh my
goodness, now that lump has melted into
liquid, the flood gates were flung open and
the tears started gushing out. It was not a
very pleasant sight as the choir leader could
not continue the song.
This is to give you an insight into the kind of
person my friend was and the life she lived.
She was extremely intelligent, kind, simple
and most of all was in love with God and His
word.
Well, as I tried to calm down, he walked in
—THE HUSBAND.
I am sure by now you are thinking I would
run to console him since I was very close to
her and he knew me. Instead, I stood up
and walked to the other side of the church
and sat down. That was when I knew how
much respect I had for the church and the
dead.
If I could, I would have locked him up in the
coffin so he could go with her; after all, he
put her there in the first place.
We had all begged, prayed, complained,
reported, and fought, just to get him to stop
beating her. I was tired of seeing the black
eye, the swollen face, the bruised arms and
the constant headaches. It was so bad that I
had to tell him that one day he would do
something really bad to his wife and end up
behind bars. Little did I know that the day in
question was fast approaching.
He had beaten her so much for sending her
own money to her mother without telling
him, and when she tried to protect herself
by pushing him off her, he got infuriated
and hit her head on the wall.
This time no black eye, no bruise to worry
about, she just did not wake up.
When her sister called me in the middle of
the night, I was not sure whether to cry or
get angry or scream. My whole body was
shaking and all I could say was “no… no…
no… please God, no, no, no… please”.
I started to feel guilty, “maybe I should have
moved her out of there” but then again who
am I to move her out of her husband’s
house when she herself refused to move. It
really hurt, so much that even as I am
writing this I am still crying.
The case was taken to court and was
dismissed, because according to the courts
the evidence was not enough, and so he
was discharged and acquitted.
In a country where an accurate autopsy
cannot be carried out, let alone thoroughly
investigate a crime, what do you expect?
She is dead and gone but the killer is
walking free, and as usual, he has custody of
the children whom he has passed on to his
new wife.
My heart has been bleeding ever since
because I know that this is happening to so
many women. Some are still alive today to
tell their stories, some are afraid to cry out
for help; some cover up when they are
asked questions about their black eye; some
believe that there is no justice for the
abused woman because other cases they
have heard of, have always favoured the
man, and lastly, some are no longer alive to
speak up.
As sad as this is, it is still happening even as
I write.
Now it has progressed to acid baths, body
mutilation, and other unthinkable things.
In anger, I stormed to the church we all
attended and demanded to see the head
pastor. When he came out, I screamed and
yelled and people came into the church to
hold me down. Please, do not think I
disrespect men of God. Oh, far from it, in fact
I respect them so much because without
some of them who have mentored me, I
would not be the person I am today.
Truth of the matter is, my late friend’s sister
told me that a few days before she died, she
had gone to meet the pastor in fear because
she had another fight with her husband
who told her that he was ready to kill her
and nothing would happen to him. He kept
saying in pidgin English: “na naija we dey o
and when you die your dead body no go
come prove to the court say na me kill you”.
My late friend then called her sister to tell her
what had happened and that she was going
to see the pastor.
I asked her sister: “Why pastor? Why not
police?”
The sister laughed and said: “Do you know
how many times she tried that? The
policeman she met on duty laughed and
said, ‘madam na domestic matter be dis
abeg, husband and wife must fight, go beg
your husband’ ”.
When her husband found out, he laughed
and asked if she thought she was in
America, then he beat her some more for
even attempting.
So, she went to the pastor and told him
everything again because that was not the
first time she went to him to complain and
ask for help. As usual the pastor said: “My
daughter, there is nothing God cannot do.
Please, prayer is what you need. Keep
praying to God to touch his heart, he will not
kill you and he will not harm you. Go back
home and maintain peace, please;
remember that God hates divorce so you
cannot leave your home and children”. She
left there feeling so dejected and scared,
and so she called her sister and told her
what the pastor had said.
I tried to think about what could have been
going on in her head everyday of her life,
thinking that there is no SAFE HAVEN. The
man who swore to love and protect you is
the one who is killing you; the parents who
gave you to him in marriage will tell you not
to leave your home because it is not a family
trait and it will bring shame upon the family.
You are too ashamed to even let people
know you are going through domestic
violence for fear of being stigmatized; you
are not protected by law enforcement
agents nor the law because some of them
do the same thing to their wives; then the
only place which is the house of God also
tells you to go back to the place where you
are being destroyed.
My heart broke and that was when I wept
the most, because no one knows what she
could have gone through alone.
So, I looked at this pastor and said ‘I hope
you are happy now, I hope you are satisfied
that she listened to you and got killed in the
process’.
I am not saying I support separation or
women running out of their homes, but I
insist that there must be temporary
measures to take the woman to a safe place
until things can be resolved. She has to, at
least, be alive first before any reconciliation
or anything can even take place.
My question today is: what does the church
do in cases like this? Is it saying that
because of doctrines women should remain
there and die? Is it saying that apart from
prayer there is no other way to help?
I poured out my heart to the pastor and
asked him a question directly without any
apologies, “If your daughter came to you,
bruised everyday, threatened and battered,
would you tell her to go back there and
pray? What if she does and gets killed? What
would your reaction be? Will you be able to
live with yourself?”
Then I calmed down and said God bless you
pastor and thank you, I hope this means she
will go to heaven.
He could not utter a word, so I walked out.
Call this ranting, lamenting, disrespectful, but
one thing is for sure. We need answers, we
need to shout it out loud, we need to
educate women and let them know they can
cry out for help.
I can’t stress this enough, if you are going
through any form of violence, especially
domestic violence, you can get help. Please
don’t die for nothing. Make that call to
Project Alert now 01-4737270,
08052004698 or send an email to
projectalert@projectalertnig.org, log on to
their website www.projectalertnig.org.
Enough is enough; the time to act is now.
Say No To Domestic Violence.
This piece is dedicated to all the women
who have lost their lives through domestic
violence.
May their souls rest in peace.
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