I no longer have any wish to live because there is nothing to live for.
I have told my family members not to bring me to the hospital, no matter the medication, it won’t work.
‘Just bury me quickly, no ceremony. Let me go in peace to meet my Maker.’
Look at me, I may not look like much to you because there are drips all over my frail body. But this body will soon be shed, I will have an eternal body that cannot die. I will be at peace again.
But hear my story.
Call me Denrele. I met and married my husband, Funsho here in Lagos more than 20 years ago. For twenty years, we had no children. My sister. It was not because I did not try everything and anything that was suggested. I did. I went from hospital to hospital. I went for testsl after test; I went from church to church, mountain to mountain, seeking for the fruit of the womb.
The only thing I did not do and refused to bow to was juju. I made up my mind a long time ago not to seek a child from any Babalawo or these white garment people. I focused on God and believed He would one day answer me like He did to Hannah.
Over these years too, let me say, my husband, Funsho, did not bother me much about having children. Yes, he too was worried but, he believed that God was the Giver of children. But as you know, in a childless marriage, the pressure is always on the woman, so I was the one who went for most of these tests. I was the one who did all the fasting; 40 days dry fast, 90 days white fasts, 100 days fasts, year after year, year after year, and these things have a way of taking their toll on your body.
I lost weight, I lost my zeal for work and life.
I mean, what will I be working for if I have no child to call my own?
What will I be living for if I have no child who will call me ‘mummy;?
So, these things affected my job. I lost three different jobs as a chartered accountant at three different big firms in Lagos. Many times, my fasting would clash with office work because I took deligently to prayers and studying the Word and neglected many aspects of my life. But I didn’t care. I wanted a child of my own at all cost.
One day, 7 years ago, Funsho came into the house with two children. He came in with his two sisters and their older brother.
I was at first confused, I asked him, ‘Funsho, ki lon shele? Who are these children?’
I knew they were not his niece and nephew because I know all his nieces and nephews. But Funsho did not answer me, he just sat down. His two sisters sat down. It was their elder brother who remained standing that broke the news.
‘Denrele, these are now your children, these were born to Funsho by another woman outside.’ That was how the news was broken to me. I swear. But let me tell you, [please close your mouth, let me tell you the truth. I was not surprised. Not at all!]
As a wife, a childless one for that matter, when your husband begins to do kurukere, kurukere, you just put two and two together and four will not be a difficult answer. I was not surprised at all.
As is our custom, I knelt down and thanked my brother-in- law and I told him I would take care of these children; after all, our people say, ori omo lon pe omo wa ‘ye, taking care of another’s child can bring my own children from heaven.
‘But what of their mother?’ When I asked, they all looked at each other uncomfortably.
Is she dead?
No.
‘Is she ok with us caring for her children?’ The children were 4 and 6 years old.
They said she was a married woman living in Ibadan.
Hummn. I kept quiet. There was nothing more to say. That would be their own problem, not mine. I took the children in and began to care for them…for the next five years.
Again at some point in between, I lost my job again. I had forgotten about a conference we were meant to have at Ogere because I had gone to Oke igbala, prayer mountain that weekend. My boss got tired of me being absent once again and asked me to go from there. When I got down from the mountain I saw email after email asking for my whereabouts and a final one sacking me.
I left it all to God, after-all, once I have my own children, I won’t have to stay so long on the prayer mountain.
A few months after that, my husband too lost his job. So both of us where home and one day, he told me we should apply for this visa lottery thing, so we could relocate to the US with his children. He said I shouldn’t mention this to any family member, you know how you go and tell your plans to people and suddenly, the plan will not materialise?
So, I kept quiet about it for months as we filled the forms, submitted, waited for results and bam! We were given visas. All of us, myself, my husband and the two children. We were set to relocate to America!
We began to sell off our things, cars, clothes, furniture, kitchen items, my jewelry so we could have something to start life with in America. I was also looking forward to seeing new doctors, doing tests to see if I can ever become a mother of my own children.
After two months, we had sold off everything and we were set to go in two weeks. Then I went to church for night vigil. Vigil starts at mid night but as an usher we go early to pray and prepare. My husband and I had also booked special farewell prayers.
But that Friday night, my husband said he didn’t want to go and he wanted the children to stay behind to run some errands for him.
I didn’t ask too many questions. I said okay then went to church for our vigil.
I came home the next morning at about 6am because they lock our 1gate and I met an empty house.
Not unusual; I called my husband but no response, his phone was off. I didn’t panic because my husband often takes the children out to jog on Saturdays and many times, his phone battery is never fully charged when he goes out and often runs low.
I showered then got into bed to take a nap. But much later, when I woke up at about 9.45am. something told me to walk about the house.
Low and behold, I didn’t see our many suitcases stacked in the guest room.
My passport was gone. Their passports were gone.
I just felt my heart drop!
Funsho had left for America without me!
Not in my wildest dreams did I see this coming, my sister. I almost went mad! I called my older sister and told her what had happened. She came to the house with three other relatives. We rushed to the airport and got one of her immigration friends to check. Funsho was long gone.
So, all that time I was praying in the church and thanking God for the new life we were about to start in America, Funsho and his kids were already boarding the flight!
“Get another passport.”
“Report him at the embassy.”
“Go and meet him in America.”
“Don’t let him get away with this.”
Everyone had an advice to offer but I thought about it decided to let it all go. I wanted to go to America because Funsho would be there. By leaving me behind it was clear that he did not want me.
What would I be doing alone in America at almost 60?
I have left everything to God but I have no desire for this life anymore. My shattered heart has left me bed-ridden.
(Series written and edited by Peju Akande and based on true stories.)