I read of a woman who killed her husband recently by stabbing him during a fight and I wondered if that could have been me if my husband did not die when he did. I read that her husband was fond of beating her so she stabbed him in self-defence. I decided to write in my own widowhood story. My name is Oge and this is my story.
I made a mistake in marrying my husband Titus. I thought marriage would change him. I met Titus on my way to work one day. We boarded the same bus and he paid for my transportation fare. I wondered why as I thanked him. He then told me that he knew my office at Apapa and that he worked around there as well. I was surprised but happy to save some cash that day. He said he would check on me later that week. I had no issues with that.
One day as I closed from work I found him waiting at the gate. I was surprised but he smiled and offered to buy me dinner. We went to a Buka around there and he ordered the food of my choice. He ordered pepper soup for himself and several bottles of beer. I was hungry and I dug in happily. After that day he kept coming and eventually asked me out. I was single and hadn’t had a relationship for a while. So I went ahead with him.
He loved to hang out a lot. Every evening we would go to sit outs with friends and colleagues of his and drink and eat suya or pepper soup. He was quite popular at his workplace. He was loud and argued a lot. He was in the clearing and forwarding business. I also suspected he was crooked.
I remember the first time I went to his house. I got strange looks from neighbours. I wondered at them. He immediately put me to use. I started reporting there on weekends to prepare his food and do his laundry. I later got to know that he quarrelled a lot with his neighbours. I once confronted him about it but he twisted the stories to make him look like a saint and I believed him.
We got married traditionally after I got pregnant. Then I saw him more clearly. He was so troublesome. He would play music in loud volumes. Anyone who complained got a taste of his razor-sharp tongue. Even when my pregnancy advanced, he still expected me to do all the house chores. I was always tired.
This continued for even my next child. He wanted s3x all the time too. He became violent towards me. Beatings became regular. It was then my neighbours told me about how he beat his ex-girlfriends too which was why they left him. They called him a waste. I found myself crying all the time.
My Journey To Widowhood
He maintained his culture of sitting out in bars at night. I reported the matter to the family but nothing came out of it. They asked me to endure. I had nowhere to go. We began to have hot arguments every day. He wanted another child but I didn’t want more children because I was contemplating leaving him. He was a handful. I got so angry one day that I nearly poured hot water on him. Thank God I didn’t. He stormed out of the house angrily and that was the last time I saw him alive.
He got into a fight with a conductor while dragging for change. He got pushed out of the vehicle which was in motion and he died. The driver and conductor, of course, sped off. The news was brought home to me by those who witnessed it as it happened not too far from home. I should have been sad, I should have felt some emotion but I did n’t. I went with them to see the corpse. The police had arrived on the scene and carried him to the mortuary.
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The truth is, I felt relieved. I felt a burden lifted from me and it was like I was now free to live. The first thing I did after the burial was to move away from that house. I carried my children elsewhere.
I got another job and continued training my kids. It wasn’t easy for me for a long time. I thank God that those children are in the university now. I remarried a widower who had two children as well. We enjoy each other’s company and compared to my first husband, he’s the best.