Creative Writing · Fiction · Short story

If the dead could talk…

jacquelineobyikocha

rosary beadsI am not crazy. Just mad. Yes mad!

Mad as mad can be, that I allowed this to be me.

You cheated on me, playing hanky panky, with all the fancy ladies.

I took it with stoicism, and a whole bunch of Catholicism.

You walloped me up, and pummeled me down.

I tried to run, but never got far.

I turned to you, yes you, you, all of you.

Y’all said to return, have faith and pray some more.

I fretted, I pleaded, but deaf ears could not hearken.

I prayed, I cried, I fasted and I called on all the Gods.

But it seemed neither Heaven nor Hell cared to hear my call.

Now I am here, trapped in this bubble.

My soul is anguished, raging with fury.

Do the dead talk? Who knows?

Soon enough you will know!

My name is Nnedimma and I have a lot to say. I would however, like to ask you a question: How do you fix something that has been so broken? I tried to do so. Hanging on with bare tentacles to a union that had gone down the slope faster than a flash flood.

I was a starry eyed bride, full of hope and anticipation of forever after. It was a splendid wedding ceremony, with all the required glitz and glamor. The honeymoon at Obudu Cattle Ranch was filled with raunchy moments as was anticipated, but we soon touched down to planet Earth several months thereafter.

Let me take you down memory lane just a little bit. I met Fidelis one Saturday afternoon at a gas station. The petroleum product scarcity in Lagos was as impossible as ever and I was scared of purchasing black market fuel that was sometimes adulterated. I had just bought my car through a loan scheme that was offered by my bank and did not want to take the chance of buying road-side product that might lead to the breakdown of my newly acquired ride. I therefore preferred to queue up at an impossibly long and rowdy fuel line. I was practically the only female in a maze of rowdy men who were struggling and maneuvering to secure their own purchase.

After what seemed like hours of sitting in the car under the sweltering sun, the Manager of the station decided that they were closing sales after a few more vehicles, and everywhere just became a mad house. The men rushed to the pump, jostling each other for vantage point, and even passing a few bucks as bribe to the attendant so that he would fill their jerrycans. I tried to jostle along with the bunch of men who were a mixture of the good, the bad and the downright dirty. Unable to make any headway, I was tired of being pushed back and forth, I dishearteningly turned to go back to my car and drive away; resigning myself to the use of public transportation until things eased off, when this good looking guy approached me and asked if he could be of assistance.

I emptied my tale of fuel woes and frustration to his interested ears without really expecting much help. He asked me if I could be patient for just a little while and assured me that once the cars thinned out a bit, he would help me procure some fuel, since the station manager was a friend of his. I happily complied and got the promised assistance in exchange of my phone number – I felt grateful enough for the help to graciously give him my number.

Gradually, he warmed his way into my life. He would call to ask if I was in need of fuel or just to say hello. I was not in any relationship and my life seemed to revolve around my banking work, attending social engagements, church activities and more work. I sometimes felt lonely and was looking forward to having my own man. My long standing relationship had fizzled out when he left for Malaysia in pursuance of greener pastures and I was not eager to pursue an affair that was on the road to nowhere.

Our relationship blossomed very quickly and soon after he was hinting on tying the knot. As far as I knew, he was working as a Real estate agent cum business man who brought in cars to sell and lived in a nice two bedroom bungalow in Abraham Adesanya. That was enough for me. We would pool our resources together, I told him, besides I thought that as a team we could achieve a whole lot. Seven months following courtship, we walked down the aisle. In retrospect, I now realize that he had stylishly coerced me into footing the bill for our marriage.

Fast forward to six months after wedding: He claimed Realty business was not moving so well, he claimed that his business partner that sent the vehicles was cheating him and that he was no longer interested in dealing with him. I totally believed him and empathized with him. I did not mind using my income to support both of us hoping that the flow of the tide would change soon enough. I would leave early for work as usual, whilst husband dear would occupy himself getting his groove on with the neighborhood chicks and the tide continued to ebb as the days trickled by and I began to get worried.

I cajoled him to seek a paid job and that earned me the first beating. The first slap seemed like a joke as shocking as it was for me. I excused his beatings, penciling them down as frustration. I tried not to nag; he said I did not care. I tried to encourage him; he said I was talking to him in a condescending and arrogant manner. There seemed to be no right way, and the beatings continued. I tried to hide my misery and predicament until I could no longer hold back.

Turning to close friends and family for support, I got asked a lot of questions and a sack full of advice. Stop nagging him. Pray harder. Fast for him. Are you giving him enough sex? Does he like your cooking? Why not hand over your salary to him, so that he can feel in charge? Have you tried to stop getting home so late? What of a baby? When are you guys planning to start a family? On and on it went; but the most common advise was that marriage was for better for worse; to just stick it out and it will get better over time.

I chose to stick it out and finally got pregnant. Feeling as sick as a dog, I excused myself from work to go home and rest. Yours truly was very busy engaging the neighbors nanny in a torrid afternoon sexual session and I became privy to the distasteful scene. We had a bad fight, and the early pregnancy came down. I took off home to my sisters house, distressed and broken.

Weeks following, he came begging cap in hand, promising change and every possible promise. Tired of feeling like a failure for not making my marriage work and with advices ringing in my ears, I chose to try again. I obtained loan with his constant cajoling to assist him start a new venture and he simply applied the loan on ventures unknown. Months passed down the line and when there was nothing to show for the venture, I decided to play detective to get to the root of the matter, my trust in him had wavered badly.

My discoveries were very discomfiting. The neighbors nanny was fully expectant and my money was financing an apartment for her. I lost my cool, in total fury, embarrassment and bitterness, I fought. I fought with all my might, biting, scratching, screaming, crying until the lights went out and here I am.

Yes, I am alive but motionless. I can hear from a deep void, the consistent repetition of the Holy rosary from my mother as she petitions Heaven to wake me up from my deep slumber. I can hear the whoosh sounds made by the strange machine close to my narrow bed. Sometimes, I feel myself float out and come back to roost, searching for dear Fidelis to teach him a lesson or two. I cannot wait to burst loose from my motionless state of nothingness.

I blamed myself for my ignorance and naivety. For falling in love with the notion of love, that I failed to identify badly damaged goods. Filled with the confidence that I could influence my man to positive change through the mere force of my love, little did I know that it took far more than loving a man, far more than looking good, far more than satisfying all his sexual cravings as much as is humanly possible and far more than cooking delight-some meals to keep his roving eyes, his furious punches and his profligate manners at bay.

Little did I know that I was not the one that could bring a change within him if he was unwilling to change.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Foot note: The Obudu Cattle Ranch known presently as the Obudu Mountain Resort is found on the Obudu Plateau close to the Cameroon Border in the northeastern part of Cross River State of Nigeria, approximately 110 kilometres (68 mi) east of the town of Ogoja and 65 kilometres (40 mi) from the town of Obudu in Obanliku Local Government.

Published by jacquelineobyikocha

A wordsmith with a vivid imagination, an eager mind and a burning desire to carve out tales. As I journey with my muse to that land of all possibilities and self discovery, I hope my personal evolution will serve as a beacon of inspiration for anyone who chooses to stop by.

44 thoughts on “If the dead could talk…”

  1. Truth! out like a bolt. Why do women feel their men is an improvement project they have to embark upon. if its damaged goods, don’t buy, if you already bought it, throw it in the trash!

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  3. Oh my god. I am sitting here with tears on my eyes reading this. Its happening to me right now, after 11 years of trying and trying to make him happy in a marriage that was only to his benefit. I would LOVE to use the last paragraph and quote you as the author for a post, would that be ok? I wanna share your story with as many ppl as I can!nThis is a wonderful and so true story. Which is what makes it so sad and maddening!

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    1. I am so sorry for what you are going through. It is just a very sad situation to be in. I have witnessed a couple of friends go through domestic abuse and I was hurtful for me as an outsider to see all that. I even had to separate fights a couple of times between the couple and it shook me to the core. May God give you the strength to get on with your life. Some days will certainly be tough, but hang in there and look for the silver linings no matter how small. Know that you are wonderfully made through Christ Jesus and nobody, nobody can tell you otherwise. Remain blessed. Yes please can use the last paragraph and share as much as you can. I would love to read from you.

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  4. Honestly, I want to judge Nnedinmma but life is not always so cut and dry, so I can’t. A lot of women are going through so much pain in their marriages and relationships but it will take only God’s grace to deliver them, why? Because women don’t want to be delivered. They have been brainwashed to think that they are only complete with a man and that if the marriage fails, they have failed. We can see this in all the mindless advice she was given.

    I pray that God will help us know that our validation is not in a marriage, children, our looks, career, money, power etc Our validation comes from God who says we are beautifully and fearfully made.

    Well written story, very thought provoking.

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    1. Amen to that prayer. The story has opened a can of worms of some sorts. A couple of people have shared their tormenting story with me just because of this story, now I feel like a counselor. I hope that women would really begin to see that their joy comes from the Lord and from within, and not from the validation of men.

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  5. Quite often we hear of such horrible tales. Same pattern, same process, same end. The problem is not so much that the good is damaged , the problem is the load of garbage they are fed with in the name of counsel and advice and that, from supposedly experienced women! Pitiable!

    If more women were bold enough to get out as soon as the kitchen gets hot, after the first slap- they’d save themselves a world of pain & long lasting trauma that eats deep into their self esteem. ‘Cos the slaps slap doesnt stop after that first time. Women must learn to value themselves more…that way they can develop zero tolerance for crappy experiences like this. What a shame!

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    1. Kobi Kay, I totally agree with you. Once again, starts hitting you, it simply doesn’t stop and continues until you either get out or wind up wounded. I really hope that women would learn that love starts first with “self” and I have to be alive and well to love you back.

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  7. Its always baffles me whenever I see couples who makes me to question the concept of marriage. I must admit that I witnessed domestic abuse at a very tender age and since then I have had a soft spot for woman. Please let’s pray for those who re going through such pain because any time I read stories like this it scares me of getting married. I don’t know why falling in love is easy but staying in love is hard in this generation.

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    1. Amen Herdeyqunlay. Nevertheless, there are still some solid loving relationships out there. You don’t have to live in fear, but pray for guidance and hope for the best. Besides, violent men have deep seated issues which they need to but fail to address.

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  8. Good job Jackie, good read, I have come to know that we are in a very unsupportive society, from your family to friends and colleagues would point accusing fingers and brand her with all manner of unprintable names.
    The abused usually has insecurities ( if I leave him, can I survive by myself? Would another man find me desirable? How would my kids take it? and so on)and false hopes .
    It is easier said than done.
    Let every woman bring up their sons well , for that is the only way we can break this vicious cycle. Women are women’s worst enemies. That son who is badly behaved belonged to a woman .and handed to another woman.

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  9. Beautifully written. Keep it up. The story unfortunately is the everyday story of the woman. We get into relationships for the wrong reasons, and Men play us like a fiddle! Great job

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  10. Wow, what an incredible read. You have a way with words, and I am very glad to read in the comments that this did not happen to you personally, even though it is still sad that it happened and happens at all.

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    1. Thank you so much. I am glad you enjoyed the story. In my little time shared her on Earth, I have seen different faces of domestic violence, but thankfully not towards me. I am very sure that I would walk away, for my peace of mind. I like your name. Will check out your blog 🙂

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  11. Learned how to defend myself at an early age. Then went away to college at age 17 in a different state of the USA. Got mixed up with a young boy a year younger than me. Got fed up with his moma’s boy ways, so I left him.

    The next year (still in college) met a man a year older than me. We both took tae kwondo classes together. Now I knew (in theory) how to kill with my bare hands. He knows I can take him out if I need to. Has never laid a hand on me.

    We married the day after I graduated! That was back in 1995. Have been together ever since.

    You probably will not meet up with him after you pass away, cause i think he literally went to HELL for his sins. I know you believe in Christ and will probably get to go to heaven after you pass on. The idiot that harmed you does not deserve any more of your worries. You have suffered way too much! Leave it in the pass and continue to move forward on your journeys!
    Jeanette Hall

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  12. Pingback: Mental …Crazy is the new that! | a cooking pot and twistedtales

  13. Stories like this one are so disheartening…no woman deserves this type of treatment. Yet so many settle for less than what they’re worth…pretty much playing Russian Roulette with their lives. It’s really good to know that your friend survived this toxic, abusive relationship because so many others do not.

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      1. That’s terrible. I hope she has found a way to help others with what she’s been through…if even just one person. There’s a reason she survived it, which she probably has realized by now. Thank God for those who were telling her to get out even though she didn’t want to hear it.

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  20. This is such a sad story. I had the verbally abusive husband who cheated on me regularly but I didn’t know until right before his death. I knew of other things but not that part. I pray your friend has found peace and healing. It is so sad how people speak such horrible things into a victim’s life to only aid the horrible lie that the victim is at fault for the abuse. Thanks for sharing this story.

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    1. You are most welcome Joanna. So sorry about your experience. This was actually a friends experience and it has been a battle to get through things but she is gradually getting back to her feet. Thank you for visiting and your heartfelt comments. Kind regards.

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  21. Oh yes. What a captivating story. How naive indeed but still, I suppose bot all lessons are learned the easy way. She could’ve tested the waters a bit more before making moves but that’s me and not her. So sad what became of her.
    What a rather…glum tale but lovely in every way. Thank you Jacqueline for the read! 🙂

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I love it when you decorate my heart with your words..