I sat in the corner of the living room, chewing down the corn I had roasted early but one can compare its taste to the charred dust of a charcoal. The black eye Tunde gave me earlier, made my headache and furniture move around each time I looked at them. My body felt lighter, the only comfort I yearned for was the rest my pillow gave.
The veranda doors swung open, his face showed no signs of emotions all wrinkled in regrets, he told me about a business investment he was about to make, an investment that would yield millions of naira, my own contribution as his wife was to give him the akawo money I held for the women in our neighborhood.
"I can not give you people's sweat, investor Tunde." I said.
I knew his investment, the so-called investment was tied to the betnaija shop down the street. There were some odds that he was so sure off, he had betting codes hidden in his pocket, all he needed was the right amount of thousands to stake and make one big win . He was already vexed at my response, but he wanted his fists to kiss the flesh on my cheeks.
"What do you mean by investor Tunde?" He thundered, molded his palm into a fist and launched the first hit on my chin. The rest of his attacks came flying, I was too weak to block any.
Later that day he had returned home, after beating and forcefully taking the akawo money from me. I knew he lost, he knew I knew and he was so angered that I knew he knew I knew he lost.
"Hmmm" I heaved my shoulders, exhaling regrets of entering this marriage in the first place.
"You evil woman!!" His fists came flying again, aided with the side stool I placed my feet on for comfort, Tunde poured his rage on me.
The night has grown quiet, every living thing was sound asleep. Tears were far from my eyes, I had lost the ability to produce them. I made my way to the kitchen and decided to oil things up, the oil I used in frying yam was still there, the volume filled the medium sized steel pot by half.
I turned on the stove and heated it till it was choking hot.
Tunde was snoring his wretchedness in our bedroom, I walked in with the boiling oil, carefully not to get some spilled on myself and most importantly not to make any noise.
Getting closer to him - "You will die in a deserving way!!!".
For some reason I said that, well because I can, it's my reality and I choose what to allow and what not, because I won't let society gaslight me to thinking its the devil working through Tunde, when this 45 years old failure of a man, riled his fists up unprovoked and turned me into his punching bag. I knew the devil had no hand in it, he was too busy ruining those whose lives are meaningful and Tunde was definitely not one of them.
Tunde woke up a little too late, the oil had left the pot and pierced its hotness through his skin. He was hotter than a first class degree, taking his hands to his face trying to protect it from melting further.
"Fool" I said as I emptied the oil on him and landed a sharp hit to his face with the pot.
He laid there helplessly, smelling of fried yam and a bit of dried meat.
"Chiwendu…Chiwen!!!" I could hear my name from a distance, pulling me back from my wildest imagination, one wished I had the bullocks to execute.
"Ma…" I answered.
"What do you have to say to your husband?" My mother asked me, I realized that it wasn't my reality afterwards, the world I lived in belonged to men and by their rules shall I abide by them.
"I am sorry my husband, I shouldn't have withheld the money from you and angered you to the point of beating me, you beating me is my fault and I not giving you the akawo money is heavily my fault…I am very sorry"
I apologized with my two swollen black eyes itching for medication, but my mother was too blind to see it. While he sat across in the family meeting casting scornful looks at me, it is the rubbish women sit in called marriage, it is always a woman's fault.
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