I was one of those girls who took pride in the fact that I never slept around before marriage. And yetโlook where that got me.
I embraced church life from secondary school. I preached about chastity, urging my so-called wayward friends not to jump from bed to bed but to wait for the husband God had ordained for them. And yetโlook where that got me.
I went on evangelism, passionately sharing how wonderful it was to be a child of God and to resist the temptations of the flesh. And yetโlook where that got me.
Donโt get me wrongโI still believe in God. I just stopped believing in people who claim to be of God. Thatโs the difference.
So, what happened?
The story is long, but Iโll keep it short. There will be gapsโIโll leave those for your audience to fill in.
As I said, I kept myself pure for marriage. And when the time came, I married an usherโa man deeply rooted in the church. I wonโt mention the churchโs name, but itโs well-known in Lagos, with several parishes across the country.
Thatโs how I metโletโs call him James. I wonโt reveal his real nameโฆ for obvious reasons.
I met James at church, though not my own. I had attended a program organized by his church, and my friendโthe one who invited meโintroduced us.
James was quiet.
He was studious.
He was hardworkingโa handyman, always busy.
These were qualities I found admirable.
After months of meeting, chatting, calling, and exchanging WhatsApp messages, I believed James was the man God had chosen for me.
If anyone had dared tell me otherwise, I would have rebuked themโโI bind you, Satan!โ
Turns out, James was the Satan.
The first warning sign? His temper.
To be fair, he warned me long before I ever witnessed his temper firsthand. He told me outrightโhe had a bad temper.
At the time, I thought, Ha! What temper exists that God cannot temper? Biko, that wasnโt a problem.
It turned out to be a very big problem later on.
What happened?
We had agreed to marry. We had spoken our intentions to each other, informed our parents, gone to church to meet with our pastors, and completed premarital counseling. We were set.
But before the wedding, I had already seen glimpses of his angerโwhen I arrived late to meet him, when I left dishes in the sink longer than planned, or when I mistakenly washed colored clothes alongside his white singlets, causing them to stain.
That last oneโhis singletsโwas what set him off.
I took responsibility. I hadnโt realized he had packed the colored clothes with the whites, so I stuffed everything into the washing machine.
He flew into a rage, flung the singlets on the floor, and sneered, โUse them to wipe the floor since youโve turned them into rags.โ
I pleaded, explaining that I hadnโt known the singlets were still entwined with the shirts he had put in the machine. I simply saw the load was full, added detergent, and started the washโnot knowing he hadnโt separated them.
I was confused, apologizing, trying to make sense of why he was so furious. But he kept raging, throwing things, eventually punching the wall.
I was terrified.
I begged him for over an hourโI swear, more than an hourโapologizing, promising to replace the singlets with better brands.
But he didnโt want better brands.
He said my mistake was proof that I was careless.
Then he proceeded to list my faults over the past six months:
I left the dishes in the sink on May 6th.
I forgot to replace the tissue on March 3rd.
I left the bathroom door open when a visitor was around on February 13thโwas I hoping theyโd walk in and see me?
Each accusation left my mouth hanging openโas in, what?!
Later, he apologized. Said he had already told me he had a temperโฆ blah, blah, blah.
That should have been my cue to walk away.
That should have been the moment I called off the relationship.
But I was faithing it.
I told myself, Shebi, heโs a Christian. Shebi, Iโm a Christian. Shebi, we can fast and pray, and all this will be nothing. Shebi, at least he didnโt beat me.
Hmmm, my sister.
It happened againโon the day of our wedding.
It all started with my hesitation when the pastor asked me to say, โI do.โ
At that moment, all I could think about were the three times I had already witnessed his explosive temper.
I had confided in one of my closest friends, and she had urged me to walk away. But my mind convinced me she was just jealousโafter all, I had a man, and she didnโt.
I was about to get married, start a familyโฆ she hadnโt.
Hmmm.
After the wedding, Iโd say we had about six to nine months of bliss before I felt the full force of my husbandโs temper.
What happened?
I was working on my laptop, finalizing a projectโa private practice job someone had given me. We needed the extra cash.
It was only after marriage that I discovered my husbandโs job wasnโt full-time but freelanceโpay-as-you-go.
After COVID, the jobs became irregular. Understandably, life had changed.
So, the house rent fell on me.
We had a baby girl on the wayโI got pregnant shortly after our wedding.
So, baby expenses, hospital bills, rent, food, transport, utilitiesโeverything fell on me. Naturally, I took on any private practice work I could get.
That day, I was deep into my work when my husband called for me to bring something to him in the bedroom.
I wanted to quickly finish my PowerPoint presentationโI didnโt want to lose my train of thought.
Omoโฆ
He stormed into the sitting room where I was working at the dining table.
He picked up my laptop and flung it across the room.
Then he yanked me by the hair and threw me toward the door.
Dear Lord! I was pregnant, heavy, then.
I screamed. I begged.
But he came after me, pummeling me, calling me names.
I did not miscarry, I carried the baby to term, thank God for that!
Suddenly, I was an ashawo. He wasn’t even sure if the pregnancy was his.
This hurt me. He met me, a virgin!
Suddenly, I was proud.
Suddenly, I was a woman working to bring him down.
What?!
Afterward, he begged me not to tell anyone.
He pleaded with me to agree with him in prayerโso that God could intervene and heal him of his temper.
At the time, I truly believed God had a hand in this. I didnโt realize that James was the one who needed to work on himself. God has got nothing to do with this. God gave us all a free will. Thatโs why the world is the way it is today. If God forced us, we would all be Christians. No, He gave us a free will to decide what to do and itโs from our decision we live out the consequences.
I didnโt know this fact until much later. So I joined him in prayers….
After that, the beatings became routineโevery time he got mad, after my baby came and she looked so much like him…I thank God for that, otherwise he would have asked for a DNA.
I couldnโt speak about the abuse.
I couldnโt tell anyone.
I was ashamed.
I am an educated woman.
I drove a car.
I had a fine-looking husband.
We had a beautiful daughter.
I looked accomplished.
My friends envied me.
People thought I had it all togetherโespecially when I stood before them, preaching or sharing from the Bible during study sessions.
How could I tell the women in church that I was being abused?
How could I tell them that my own husband raped me?
Yesโoh, so you donโt know that rape can happen in marriage?
Ha.
He would hold my hands, pin me to the bed, tear my nightie off, and rape me while I screamed for him to stop. He would beat me into submission.
Rape is where there is no consent regardless of who.
Go and look it up.
He didnโt need to force himself on me. He only had to be gentle, and I would have opened up to him. But noโhe would wait until I was asleep, pin my head to the pillow so I couldnโt scream, and take what he wanted.
I thought my suffering was nothing compared to others.
But then my laptop was destroyed.
Then my clothes became targetsโtorn to shreds.
Then my phonesโboth of them.
Then my jewelry.
Then my makeup.
Then my TV.
Everything I cherishedโexcept my daughter.
Oh, my husband loved our daughter.
Even in his rage, he was mindful of where she was when he unleashed terror on me. This meant he could control his anger. This meant he was in charge of his emotions.
After five years together, I ran awayโone night, while he was asleep.
I took my daughter, called an Uber, and fled for my life.
If I had taken the car, he would have heard the engine start.
So, I left everything behindโand ran.
I stayed in hiding for a good three months. No office, no family, no friends…well, I had friends who informed my family I was safe…
The friend I had consulted years before…the one I thought was jealous of me.
She was not jealous, only wanted me safe.
Note: If you or anyone you know has been affected by Domestic violence, contact: Domestic and Sexual Violence Agency (DSVA), which is part of the Lagos State Ministry of Justice. DSVA offers advocacy, counselling, legal representation, and medical services for survivors.
(Series written and edited by Peju Akande and based on true stories)