I met my husband when I was in secondary school in Lagos. He had finished his secondary education in the same school that I attended but had not been able to secure admission into any institution of higher learning. He was such a handsome guy that every lady wanted to have an affair with him. But he came across as a very disciplined man, who would not take any nonsense from anyone.
I met him when I enrolled for an evening lesson he set up to teach senior students in my school. I could not but fall for his intelligence and good looks but, being a reserved girl, I refused to show any sign of affection even though my friends were all flaunting themselves before him. We held the lessons for four months after which we heard that he had gained admission into the University of Ilorin. I felt bad within me that I might not see his face again. Yet, I was happy that, at last, he had been able to fulfill his desire of a university education.
After my final examinations, I also gained admission into Kwara State Polytechnic and fate brought us together again. He was in his third year when I got to Ilorin, and we did not meet until his final year at a Muslim Students Society event that was organised in my polytechnic. He recognised me immediately and invited me for lunch the next day, a Saturday. It was at his sister’s place in the remote part of Ilorin. One thing led to the other and we hit it off. In the days that followed, he became everything to me. I couldn’t do anything wihtout seeing him, though he warned me sternly that if I ever failed any of my courses, he would stop seeing me. This pushed me to work hard and I excelled in my studies. He kept to his promise of marrying me; after my OND, we got married in a modest ceremony in Lagos.
At this time, he had finished his education and was working with a textile company in Lagos. Everyone on our street knew how much I loved my husband because I would stay outside, either in the sun or in the rain, waiting for him to return from work before going inside. Our neighbours even gave me the name, ‘Ruth.’ I got pregnant exactly three months after our wedding and my husband was very happy. He told me to forget going back for my HND until the baby clocked two years and I agreed. I thought my world was complete until my eighth month, when I received a delegation from my husband’s family.My husband’s uncle, who was the head of the family before his death, was the one who let the horrible cat out of the bag. He said my husband had offended me and could not tell me what he had done by himself, which was the reason he approached family members to tell me on his behalf. When he said that, my heart started pounding because I knew that was the usual style of informing a wife that her husband had impregnated another woman in our part of Nigeria. My worst fear was confirmed when he said my husband had impregnated another woman, whose family members were on their neck to do the necessary Nikkah rites.Though we’re both Muslims, I never thought my husband could do such to me within such a short period with all the love he professed. It was also unthinkable that the lady in question was five months gone. This meant that he had impregnated her when I was just three months pregnant. It also meant that they probably had been dating even before we got married or just a few days after our wedding. So many things were going on in my mind but my mother-in-law’s soothing words brought me back to life. He did not bring the woman home; he rented an apartment for her outside, and she gave birth to her daughter about three months after I gave birth to mine. From that time, my world changed; my husband was no longer as loving as he used to be. While I was still nursing the wound of a second wife, we heard the news that a man went to my husband’s office to warn him to leave his wife. I confronted my husband and he said the woman was already tired of her husband and that she had been disturbing him to have an affair with her. Then I started shouting, asking my husband if what he said made any sense to him. Why would he be behaving as if he never pased through secondary school, not to talk about the university? To cut the long story short, he brought in this woman, who eventually packed out of her husband’s house, right into our matrimonial home. That was when I insisted that I would rather have the second wife in. But it was as if she cast a spell on my husband because she would abuse me with songs and call my daughter “snego, efon (mosquito) and all sorts of unthinkable names. To worsen matters, she brought in the two kids she had for her first husband and my husband took over their upkeep.
I somehow got the second wife to insist on coming home, and she did. She rescued me a bit from the torture I faced in the hands of my husband and his lunatic third wife until the fourth one came.
Watch out for the concluding part next week.
