I Didn't Leave My Children
It was another bright day in Lokoja, I felt the heat of the scorching sun, its rays are like hungry lions, trying to devour my skin, making its way into the cracks and holes dugged in my skin by my husband's merciless belt. I took keke from the central market, enduring the traffic and inhaling the dust that made its way into my nostril. I gulped the saliva cumulated in my mouth, thanks to the fear of the incident ahead.
I walked stealthily through the varender of my house, there is no point announcing my arrival by overstepping the floor, the fear of my husband taught me everything, how to walk ain't out of the lessons.
"So, it's now you are coming home?" It was the angry voice of my husband, his voice came like the twinkles in lightening, it rose from the first word then he rose in uniform.
"I'm sorry, it was the traffic" I managed to put my words together, forcing it to come natural then hid the trembling, faking a smile. Just then, a fold of gathered storm broke in my cheek. It was a lie if I said I wasn't expecting a slap, our conversation hardly goes without one and I thought my body was getting used to it, but today's own was also different from last night's, just like last night's was different from yesterday's morning. I guess my body can't get used to this torture as I presumed.
"Since it's now you decide to come home, I guess I will have to wait till it's time for supper before I have my dinner." His face were as tight as his words, giving me the urge to knell down and beg him before hell breaks over the house again.
"Don't you have anything to say or are you deaf?" His words broke my valley of thought then diverted its flow to the occurring.
"I am sorry, it'1: 30pm" I said, glancing at the wall clock. "I will hurry up with cooking."
"So, I am stupid and need you to remind me of the time." His words left me dumbfounded, that wasn't my intention. I received another slap on the same cheek in a flash, he quickly removed his belt and gave me beating with it, his last stripe hitted my head and I felt a quick hotness in the area, my head wrap was still on but I knew I have gotten a fracture.
"Please Mike, stop, you've wounded me. Please" I begged in a weak voice.
"I've wounded you? You haven't seen anything, I will show you what been wounded means." He threw away his belt, held my head tightly and threw me on the ground.
"Ahhh..." I shouted with a fading voice, breaking through my ear with my shout, the shout didn't last long but it was the longest I could.
Neighbors trooped into our house, I was gradually losing counsiousness, my neighbour's words rang faintly in my head.
"Do you want to kill her?"
"What has this woman done to deserve this torture?" "You are a wicked man" I felt their hand holding me.
"God! She is getting cold."
I knew I was not going to make it, what I felt earlier was blood running down my wound, under my head-tie, as I thought about the possibility of dying, I refused to blame my husband but my mother.
She said I should not leave my children each time I talked of a divorce, she was of the opinion that I should endure the torture so as to live with my children. And like she wanted, I am not going to leave my children, I am only leaving this world.
©Yusuf Muyibat Avosuahi
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