I was little, couldn’t really say why they always fought, I knew mum never wore skirt or looked nice but was always on two wrappers known in Nigeria.
Dad would always say that she must tie it to prevent men from taking her away; he never cared a bit, even on the day I was born, he was nowhere to be found. From the very beginning it has always been me and my mum.
I grew up and realized that I became part of the torture and hell called “Married to the wrong person”. My mum lived where the husband was always not around, where he only comes to collect money (salary) and leave the house, leaving nothing. Those few times he was around, he made sure he beat and harass her in front of the neighbours.
When ever we went to see him, we met a lady who would eventually end up fighting with my mum and would say sorry later and make up, she was always the pillar, the brain box that would think out everything and anything. Creative she was, feared and loved God with all her heart that I couldn’t stop imagining how she met such a man. Watch out for the meeting story later (smiles).
In 2006, the worst happened, mum was suspended from work due to a theft that happened in her office, being the cashier, she fell victim of the incidence, mum locked up in prison for days was not a funny at all. The incidence resulted to suspension. During the suspension, the world became unbearable as our house got demolished. She never gave up, we moved into an uncompleted building which she creatively demarcated with clothing and wood to her manageable taste, Mum also had two younger siblings with her, the struggle was real.
We sold provisions in a show glass, which wasn’t enough to feed four people, so mum added selling pure water and afterward opened a restaurant with wood and cement bags in front of the estate where there was a park. The business helped coupled with my uncle renting out wheel barrows. Hmmmm……….we survived. During those times, I trekked all the way back from school.
We survived! We survived! With all this happening, Dad was nowhere to be found.
I was sitting close to her chair when I had mum saying to someone on the phone “don’t call me darling, in fact I’m getting a divorce, I’m tired of this marriage”, I was small but i could understand clearly every word as she continued, “I never speak to any male when you are around or talk even to my pastor. Am fed up of all the punch and you coming home and smelling like you had been smoking from a smoke pump.
It dawned on me that mum was leaving Dad and this time it was no coming back. With tears in my eyes I went closer to her and started begging for more patience but she said gently “I’m fed up, I can’t take it, one day you will understand”, now I do really understand.
2007 was a new ride in the journey, something else happened. guess you want to know?
The story continues!
I am called the true life story teller