Weeks later, while still waiting for my fervent prayers to be answered, my husband drove into the compound. I was lying on the sofa in the living room, reading a Nora Roberts novel when I heard him at the door I made to get up but saw someone speed past me to open the door. I had never seen the old woman so agile.
“My son welcome I can see you are with a visitor.”
I was sitting up now, my book long forgotten as I watched my husband enter.
“Welcome Honey…” I began to say when I noticed the young woman behind him; her perfume might as well be made of youth and elegance. She was so beautiful I momentarily had a feeling she had stepped out of a vogue cover magazine.
They proceeded to make themselves comfortable with Mama dancing about like someone who had been pronounced the queen of her village.
“My son is she the girl you were telling me about?”
My husband replied in the affirmative as he shrugged out of his suit jacket.
“My child what is that your name again?”
“Faiza” The name slipped out of lips so red I wondered if she had drained a human of its blood before coming.
Since I might as well be lint on the sofa for all the attention they gave me, I laid back down and picked up my novel. But I couldn’t see a word on the paper as Mama’s voice kept forcing its way into my ears.
“What a beautiful name.” she exclaimed dramatically.
“Oyiboo! You will give me beautiful grandchildren, I know. I can already picture them.” I heard the girl’s soft chuckle.
“All those that want to die should die please. My son has found a perfect wife. The grasshopper that thinks its ears are decorative fittings will realize its foolhardiness in the bowels of the bird, yes.”
“Salamatu.” My husband called, condescension coating every word.
“Where are your manners? Get my guest something to drink.”
Before I could open my mouth Mama exclaimed.
“Ah! No please, let me get it. Who knows what people boiling with suppressed jealousy can do?”
Having had enough, I stood up and leveled my husband with a stare before turning my attention to the girl.
“Would you like a tour of the house?”
Well it was the only thing I could think of to say. They both stared at me in confusion.
“Uh no.”
“Ok then if you will excuse me.”
My smile still dazzling them I proceeded to my room.
Faiza became the most used name in the house, if I so much as blinked the wrong way Mama was quick to tell me how Faiza did it better. The house was steamy hot with conspiracy against me but though I was boiling to the point of explosion I appeared unfazed and very cheerful.
Sunday afternoon; my husband, his mother and their new favorite wife-to-be Faiza, were on the varender having snacks, laughing loudly and sharing jokes, when the sleek black car rolled into the compound to park under the Forest Flame, seconds later a tall broad shouldered drop-dead gorgeous young man stepped out, with the body of a fit footballer and the lazy confidence of a wealthy man. He walked towards them with the stealth and grace of the king of the jungle.
My husband rose to meet him and wanted to know if he knew him.
“I am Azeez.” He offered as if the name alone gave all the explanation that was needed
“I am here for Salamat.”
As if on cue I waltzed out in my sky blue gown that trailed behind me, on heels that were three inches high, my face was all made up and my lips were bloody red with lipstick.
“My Queen, I am always in awe of your blinding beauty.”
I basked in the compliment and smiled so bright the afternoon sun became jealous. I nodded and offered him my hand; he bowed and pressed a kiss to my fingers, before tucking it in the crook of his arm.
“Shall we?”
And as if on a red carpet with paparazzi swamping us we took our time going to his car, he opened my door for me, stepped aside for me to proceed in before closing it. He got in himself and we drove out.
But not before I smiled with satisfaction at the Jaws competing to touch the ground.
12:30a.m I unlocked the door and stepped into the house. Mama was sitting in a chair right in the foyer waiting for me, when she turned on the light and realized it was me she sprang into verbal abuse. When she was done insulting my entire generation and those to come, I told her goodnight and made to walk past her. It was then she struck me right across the face.
“Where do you think you are going to? You think this is your father’s house that you can come and go as you please? Shameless prostitute!”
After my head stopped reeling from the slap, I dropped the bag I was carrying, placed my phone gently on it and turned.
“You are leaving this house this—”
She didn’t get to complete the sentence when I lifted her off the floor, pushed open the door and dropped her outside.
“For a woman as old as you are you sure can slap.” I muttered closing the door and turning the lock
I have got no words for the look on her face.
I turned off the light and went to my son’s room to check on him, he was sleeping peacefully. I closed his door gently and proceeded to our bedroom. I turned on the light and walked towards the closet. In the sitting area was my husband nursing a drink in his hand and looking twice his age. At the closet I changed all the while feeling his gaze on me. I went to the bathroom, showered, came back out in my night wear. I walked past him to the refrigerator, where I poured myself a glass of water, sipping it I went to my dresser did my usual night ritual drained the glass of water then turned on the bedside light before going to turn off the light to the room and went back to the bed. When I was all tucked in under the blanket I turned off the bedside lamp.
I find it difficult to sleep with the light on, so when the bedside lamp came back on it pulled me out of my sleep to find my husband standing over me. We studied each other for a long time in silence before he said.
“You can’t leave another man’s bed to crawl into mine.”
With that statement I knew sleep was not going to happen anytime soon. So I sat up, tightening the scarf on my head, but never said a word.
“Salamat” he called softly, the anguish evident in his voice. I said nothing, still staring defiantly at the wall across. Afterwards he moved to stand right before me and then sat on the floor Indian style, he patted the space before him.
For a long time I stared at the spot he pointed and something constricted in my chest.
When we were dating and in the early times of our marriage and he had nothing, when we used to stay in a room, whenever we had problems and wanted to talk about it, we would sit like this and talk it out until we made up. We never left the position until we were friends again.
It was our thing…a lifetime ago.
Today looking down at him I wasn’t sure I wanted to join him.
“Salamat.” He urged.
It was the look in his eyes that made me slide down to join him. For a long while he said nothing as he studied me while I pointedly refused to meet his gaze.
“What will happen now?” He asked.
I turned to stare defiantly into his eyes.
“You tell me.”
“You can’t leave another man’s bed and enter mine, it is not done.”
“But you can leave another woman’s bed and enter mine? It is ok for you to flaunt your women before me?”
He opened and then closed his mouth, his face a perfect mixture of shock and confusion.
“Is that what you are doing, returning the favor? By throwing yourself at men? You will only bring upon yourself disrespect and dishonor. What will people say, how will the society look at you? You are a woman for godsake, meant to be gentle, calm, loving and to stay in the bloody house!”
The fire started to bubble up in me, and the madness matching his.
“My God, you should be given a standing ovation for this display of stupidity, ignorance and self centeredness. I should stay in the bloody house. Was that not what I did? Was I not gentle, calm and loving? I was all those things and more but what did I get in return? Dishonor, disrespect and more; from you, your mother, your friends and the women you bring into this house. So excuse me if I don’t give a fat rats fanny what the society thinks of me, because there is nothing they will do to me that I haven’t gotten from you…in large doses.”
“SALAMAT.”
“Let me finish! Sometimes I wonder how some men actually see women, do you think we are slaves or a machine programmed to do as you please? No, we are flesh and blood with a heart that feels disappointment and can be broken. So I would not lose sleep over a society that will applaud a man for doing an act and then turn against a woman for doing the same thing. If it is okay for you to be with other women, then it is okay for me to be with other men. Disrespect, my dear husband, begets disrespect.”
“Is this because of Faiza? My religion allows me to have four wives.”
“Well congratulations, Mr. I-am-allowed-to-have-four-wives. Yes the religion said you can have four wives but it didn’t say you must.”
My husband started to laugh then and if I had had an axe with me I would have derived immense pleasure unhinging his jaw so that he can continue laughing permanently.
“It didn’t say you should do it with total disregard for the woman at home, it didn’t say you should do it while bringing shame upon the woman at home, it didn’t say you should insult, disrespect and treat the woman at home like shit. It didn’t say you should commit indecency with them before they are legally your wives. If a woman was not important dear husband, if you could survive without a woman God wouldn’t have deemed it necessary to bring us into existence. I left my home to be with you, I gave you my body for you to do as you please with, I devout my time to pleasing you and at the end of the day what do I get, a husband that looks at me and laughs in my face because I exhibited jealousy for bringing another woman between us.”
“But going out with another man? You just can’t.”
“I can and I have.”
That night my home became like one of those homes where you hear raised voices at night. My husband discovering his mother outside, shivering like she was in Antarctica didn’t help matters. She wanted me thrown out that very night but I wouldn’t burg.
“My parents won’t have me again or have you forgotten that I disobeyed my parents in every way imaginable to be with your son? I am here to stay.”
It wasn’t until four in the morning was I able to get a little sleep cuddled with my son in his room.
6:30 in the morning my mother-in-laws voice, like a cock crow, woke me up. My phone started ringing not wanting to disturb my son’s sleep I got out of the room to answer it, it was my sister and she was at the door. I went past my mother-in-laws bedroom where I could still hear them.
“What are you doing here so early?” I asked as I closed the door behind her.
“To see the resultant effect of our little show yesterday”
Going past the room again I and my sister stopped to listen.
“I have not been bewitched nor am I a weakling. I just know the value of what I have. Salamat is not leaving my house, she is my wife and I have wronged her terribly, we have wronged her, admit it mother, you have not been making life easy for her. We pushed her into doing this. I will apologize to her, go home, no I am not sending you out of my house I love the both of you and you have shown me that you want to be an authority on your own, please go home where you have everything down to servants, they can’t be two queens on my ship.”
“Yomi!”
“Mama if you don’t comply I will leave her and you and nobody will ever see me again. This is Salamat for gods sake, the girl who stole from her parents to pay for my operation when I had that accident, the girl who kept sending me her school fees, without her I wouldn’t be what I am today, plus I don’t want God to send me to hell for treating my wife badly. My dad didn’t and I won’t. I forgive her.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
“Excellent.” My sister said
“I knew this would work, now can I have my new boyfriend back?”
I laughed.
“I will go and undo the spell.”
“What spell?” I asked.
“The spell I cast upon you to suppress that goody goody side of you.”
NEVER TAKE SOMEONE'S KIND AND GENTLE NATURE AS STUPIDITY. CAUSE WHEN THEY WITHDRAW THOSE KIND NATURE YOU WOULD NOT LIKE THE OUTCOME, ASK SALAMATU'S HUSBAND
Hope you enjoyed this piece and was able to learn one or two things. Till next week when we will bring you another wonderful story.
*Always remember you can preach a better gospel with the way you live your life than with your lips*
******story by Empressamin, Graduate of ABU Zaria*****
A lesson has been learnt and will be passed on
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