MY MARRIAGE.

Kpoi Kpoi Kpoi! Gbam Gbam Gbam! Dum Dum Dum!                                                                                                                           

Those consistent and scary bangs on my door sent cold shivers throughout my system. My heart thumped out of my chest into my belly. My palms turned wet all of a sudden. I became restive, uneasy. I didn’t see all of these coming, at least not now… or ever.                                    It’s barely 3 months after my dad’s demise and just 1 month after his funeral. I was not in the right frame of mind, still battling with emotional instability at the moment and only God knows till when.                                                                                                                                      It’s 01:00pm this hot Wednesday afternoon. I wasn’t expecting anyone, no one that my shattered brain could recall. My husband Williams Akunnaya Oriuwa (wealthy name for a wealthy man of his calibre), the 1^st and only son of Senator (Chief) and Lolo Daniel Okpomechina Akuuwa Oriuwa, usually comes home in the evenings after work and meetings. Besides, the banging was a direct opposite of his soft knocks whenever he was at the door.                                                                                                                                                    And definitely not a friend since I had none again. They had all fled after several rains of insults, abuses and you’re-a-friend-of-a-gold-digger type of look and treatment all from my husband’s family.                                                                                                                                                                                            Who was it then I thought wildly? With fear, I fidgeted towards the door, tried opening it with my shaky hands until the visitor flung open the door almost smashing my face with it.                                                                                                                                                                My last minute guess was right afterall.
Here she is again to suck the remainder of my blood and beat the hell out of me as was her routine. This is neither her first, second, twentieth or thirty-sixth time. I’ve lost count. As long as 8 years now, I have remained her punching bag. I have suffered greatly in her merciless hands. “Margaret Thatcher” I nicknamed her. My husband’s 47 year old married eldest sister, Mercy Adannaya Oriuwa Okuh (never agreed to remove her old surname- a mark of royalty and recognition it was, she would always say), dived me immediately and got a real twisting hold on my weavon, uprooting a better chunk off. Afterwards came the hot dreaded slaps, kicks and push-arounds. The name “Mercy” was not fitting for her.                                                                                                                                                                                                           Through clenched teeth and a very furious-looking face, she vibrated: “What were you BARREN woman doing that you ignored my knocks for a whole hour?”                                                                                                                                                       My tear-filled eyes opened up wide in amazement to her thunderous lie. 1 hour?, I thought,   when it took me nothing more than 8 minutes to open the door after the very first bang. Immediately, I added lying to her numerous intimidating traits, right in my heart. I dare not utter a word or make a move during our encounters and face offs, else the punishment will be heightened and the beatings tripled. Out of utter frustration, I had thought of using my kitchen pestle on her or better still reported her constant ill-treatments to my husband who I am sure will never for a second, side his sister. On the contrary, a 24 year old poor naïve girl who was 16 when given out in marriage by her wealth-tasty mother cannot go to jail for breaking an influential man’s daughter’s head, nor can she go against her big sister-in-law whose visiting periods were not-at-homes for my husband, and who would sternly warn clearly that no ear should ever hear what happened. I am no match for her afterall, in age, craftiness, fierceness, wealth, wildness, irresponsibility, wickedness, years and experience in marriage, level of exposure,…name them.                                                                                                                                                                                                 She’s been married for 15 years now and nothing to show for it. I hate to say that she is barren but her intimidating visits have been a constant pain in the neck for me to want to voice out this deep inner-calculus family secret to the whole world, to anyone who cares to hear. The doctors say that due to her wild life, gallivanting activities in the States, smoking, drinking, partying, several abortions and finally, the damage of her uterus, she cannot be a mother…not in this life.                                                                                                                                                          Now I ask myself: “Does she think I indulge in similar frivolous activities as to get my womb damaged and remain barren forever?” Or perhaps, “Am I in anyway the cause of her misfortune?” “Did I do any wrong by marrying her brother whom I love so dearly since high school days- my first and only boyfriend and love?”                                                                                                                                                       She ranted on: “First, it was for you to SIMPLY get pregnant for my brother. This house is just TOO big, fill it up, fill it up with children. No, never, you have sworn not to. Your witchcraft of a mother and a dead father will not let you conceive.”                                                                                                                                              That was the height of it all! Bringing my dead father into this? Someone I was still mourning- the only comforter and supporter I had besides my husband, he was gone, gone with the wind.                                                                                                                                        Yes, I just remembered, wonderful sister-in-law Adannaya’s trace was not seen at all at my father’s funeral. Oh dear!                                                                                                                                                          “And now you are planning to keep us all away and perhaps, steal all the treasures in this mansion, then finally sell off the structure. Else, what were you doing that you turned deaf ears to my knocks, in my own brother’s house? Or were you nursing your baby?”                                                                                                                                                    Then ensued a wicked laughter: “Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha…” "I warned him but he wouldn’t listen. I told him not to pick you from the slumps where you rightfully belong but he insisted that he loves you. Where has the so-called love landed us all 8 years after? Barrenness! Yes, you are so wicked that you don’t want my parents to carry their grandchildren and for me to hug my nieces and nephews. Just take a look at the governor’s daughter- one he was betrothed to before you showed your ugly face in the picture, bewitched my brother and spoilt every damn thing. She is happily married and blessed with 3 lovely kids. Those children would have been bearing our family name. Chinasaokwu, you disgust me! Oh! Willy, Willy my brother, if you had known…”                                                                                                                                                                    I was thinking that today’s beating would be less intense as her tigress of a mother Lolo Tracy Ugo Ujunwa Akuuwa Oriuwa didn’t come with her. When it comes to wickedness and battering, she is nothing less as the daughter. Both of them have jointly made life a living hell for me in my own husband’s house. She had forgotten in such a hurry that if she were not given a second chance after 4 years of a childless marriage and a whopping 19 years after her first issue, she would not have been where she is now, wagging her mouth and flexing her aged muscles.     Her second daughter after my husband is a green snake in a green grass. She does not launch her own attacks directly. Still growing up to be like her mother and big sister, I guess.                                                                                                                           For now, I have more problems and adversaries to contend with. Hers is still a minor case. Besides, she does not know what her own marriage will give her as a present that’s if she finally decides to get married after having chased away 4 well-to-do good-looking suitors, with her character and mouth. What do you expect? The world has always been rosy and juicy for her. She gets anything she wants at the snap of the finger. Mhmm! Umu a muru amu, a tuuta ibe ha atuuta.                                                                                                                                                                                          The last daughter of the Oriuwa’s who just concluded her law school and NYSC, has been sent abroad barely a month ago by her father for her master’s degree after which she will reside there permanently. She never treated me badly for one day. Infact the few times she sneaked out of the family house to see me were times she lied to her mum that she wanted to go visit her friends and equally paid the driver in exchange for his silence. Her comforting words were like soothing balm for my deep wounds. I admire her personality, intelligence, industriousness, achievements, wisdom, independence, outspokenness- just a carbon copy of her brother, my husband.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Twice in my presence, she has spoken up to her mum and eldest sister condemning their ill treatments towards me. Now she is out of the country. Why Debbie? Why not Lolo or Adannaya or Prisca?                                                                                                                                                                   Senator on his part does not seem to care at all. Anything outside his politics, red wine, newspapers, television news and golf makes no sense to him. Inasmuch as he wants a grandchild, he does not make a fuss about it.                                                                                                                                                            What have I not done for the Oriuwa family? Is it all the beatings and harassment that I don’t swallow? Is it all the errands during family meetings, parties, get-togethers and other celebrations that I don’t run willfully? Is it their sophisticated cuisine, stylish way of dressing, elegant carriage and wealthy lifestyle that I have not been forced to learn and adapt to, though simplicity is my watchword considering the background I come from? In all of these, did I make the indelible mistake of going against my late father’s wish and marrying the man I love? Why me?                                                                                           

                                                                                                                                                                    It’s not as if it’s my fault. All the medical doctors home and abroad that we have consulted said I have no problem at all which will prevent me from conceiving and giving birth to as many children as we wanted, besides age was very much on my side. The Oriuwa’s have forgotten in such a hurry that we spent virtually the first 2 years of my marriage to their son correcting and treating an ailment he had- staphylococcus aureus. Many thanks to technology and money, he got cured. And now I ask: “What is still the problem?” To say that I pray at least 10 times a day is an understatement. I pour out my heart to my God every passing hour of the day while cooking, eating, doing the laundry, in the market, on the road, bathing…everywhere and whatever I was doing.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      “Where is that little barren witch?” Adannaya shouted as she came downstairs. “What is for lunch?” she asked with her hands on her hips.                                                                                                                                                        “Hot semolina and edikang ikong soup served with chilled fresh pineapple and coconut juice” I muttered.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                “Let me have it and make it snappy.”  As I struggled to get up from the tiled floor, my back, tummy, joints all ached badly. I limped to the kitchen and served her at once.                            In less than 8 minutes, she had downloaded everything- 3 wraps of semolina, soup big enough for 3 people, the meat lumps, the assorted, the fishes- stock, grilled and fried, the fresh juice and table water with no single trace left.                                                                                                                                                                  Now she commanded: “Go up to your room, pick up your bags I have already packed for you and come downstairs immediately! You don’t belong here!”                                                                                                                                                           It was a nice idea afterall. I needed to get out of their sight for a while. More of the beatings could send one into coma. It was much to bear. In previous times, I would lie to my husband about the bruises or better still, lock myself up in my room for days while treating my wounds. But this time, I had to go. I had a lot of explanation for Akunnaya but that will be later.                                                                                                                                                           As I came downstairs with my bags, she snatched my cell phone from my hands and smashed it right in front of me. “I am just making sure that you don’t leave this house with anything that does not belong to you, gold digger. Now get out and never you return. Forget about my brother. Out!”                                                                                                                                                                         I didn’t want to bug my brain with many thoughts, so I just cried home in a taxi.                                                                                                                                                           For once, mum had human sympathy after seeing my condition. She insisted on taking me to the hospital but I refused, hoping to get better and evade hospital bills.                                                                                                                                                       Willy rushed to our place that same evening looking for me, but on my instruction, was told I was not there. These past few days and weeks were indeed trying times- the pains, the hunger strikes.                                                                                                                                                            “Chinasaokwu, you disappoint me. See what grief, pain and poverty you’ve brought us. I allowed you to marry that rich man’s son so I could live in a big house, ride in a big jeep, feed well and look good. Look! Your little siblings are school drop-outs because of you. The house rent has long expired. It was so simple, play your cards well in that house and bring us money, raw cash, egondu. Irresponsible girl! Mtcheeewww…”                                              After such downhearting words, my siblings would cuddle and sob with me, patting me on the back.                                                                                                                                                                                              One One Friday afternoon, I woke up to find myself on a hospital bed. The last thing I could remember was the early morning vomits, dizziness and fever. Onyemaechi my brother who was right beside me said I passed out that morning and was rushed to the hospital.                  As I gradually opened my eyes, mother, Onyema and Ogechi screamed for the doctor and nurses. Seconds later, a pot-bellied fair old-looking man I assumed to be the doctor walked in with a haggard-looking nurse behind him.                                                                                                                                                “Madam, your daughter needs a lot of rest, a lot of it especially in her present condition.”                                                                                                                                         “What condition, doctor?”                                                                                                                       “Oh! You don’t know. Your daughter is pregnant. She is 3 months and 2 weeks gone. Yes, our tests confirmed that. Congratulations! Mother and daughter.”                                                As he broke the news, I didn’t have the slightest idea what to do next, whether to leap or cry or smile. I was speechless. I thought it was a dream. My mum and siblings were so happy and called Williams right away.                                                                                                              With joy and smiles all over his face, he arrived in a jiffy, hugged and kissed me, got me transferred to a better-equipped hospital and stayed there for days with me abandoning his work.                                                                                                                                                                                             I took in the same night I heard of my father’s demise I counted back. That very night, I got tipsy after sobbing profusely and taking a lot of wine. In my hubby’s hot embrace and consoling arms, unknown to me, we made love.                                                                              He pampered me back to good health. After regaining my strength, I narrated to him my ordeal with his family members. At first, he was very angry that I left him in the dark all along, then wanted to leave in order to deal with them squarely. I begged him to allow the sleeping dog lie, but to keep me away from their sight. In 3 weeks’ time, our passports and tickets were processed and ready to fly and live abroad- Willy, mum, Onyema, Ogechi and myself.                                                                                                                                                        In my 9 month of pregnancy, I delivered a set of quadruplets- 2 boys and 2 girls- the exact number of kids we wanted. 8 years, 4 children- a child for 2 years. No single year was wasted afterall. The patience was worth it. Then I realized the real meaning of our names: “Chinasaokwu, Onyemaechi and Ogechukwu.” God indeed has been faithful.                       There were family reunions, parties, celebrations and feasts. I forgave my mum, Lolo, Adannaya and Prisca after they crawled and begged for forgiveness and were truly repentant. Afterall, “To err is human, to forgive divine.” What more, we are one big family and cannot afford to be in disunity.                                                                                                     In one of our reunions, my heart-touching speech was:                                                                “In this life, I have learnt that when a bird is alive…it eats ants. When the bird is dead…ants eat the bird. Time and circumstances can change at anytime. Do not devalue or hurt anyone in life. You may be powerful today…but remember: Time is more powerful than you. One tree makes a million match sticks but only one match stick can burn a million trees. Be good, goodness will turn back to you someday.”                                                                                     “God has perfect timing, never early, never late, it takes a little patience and it takes a lot of faith but it’s worth the wait.”                                                                                                           “Never look down on anyone. Success comes regardless of who you are.”                         “Though sad, hurt, angry, mad, disappointed. You know what? I’ll put on a happy face and move on. It will hurt but I will survive.”