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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