Njideka

 

“If the sex ever gets painful, you can use this cloth to message that area with hot water. Very, very hot one eh? Do this so that your body can adapt very fast. You don't want your co-wives overshadowing you even before you start enjoying your husband. Inugo?” My mother said as she squeezed the white towel into my hand, it was obvious that I was reluctant to get a grip of it, but she couldn't care less. 

Just before she left my room, she quickly turned around with a scowl on her face and said to me, “Njideka better stop frowning, o. You are getting married tomorrow, and it is a thing of pride for every woman. You will enjoy it, eh? You will!” she hesitated and kissed her teeth in frustration.

“Now let me go and see how the cooking process is going, else they won’t make the onugbu soup just like how Mazi Egede your husband likes it. I don't want it to go wrong. See you later and please smile. You are making people gossip”. 

She said the last sentence with, I believe, all the resentment in her. 

The sound of the barged door jolted me from my reverie and sent goosebumps from the crown of my head to the sole of my feet.  I stared at the door for minutes, my room pin-drop silent and cold.  The only noise I could hear was my loud cousins in the other room fussing all about the wedding ceremony the next day. 

Making sure that the door was shut and the rusty old brown curtains that hung on the wall were properly covering the window; I proceeded to call Osita, the only my heart truly leapt for and craved. 

“Hello dearest,” His deep baritone voice said at the end of the phone, making my belly flutter with butterflies.

“Hi love” I replied in the cheesiest way I could.

“We are still up for tomorrow night?”

“Of course. I wouldn't miss it for the world”

“I can’t wait to finally be with you, Njideka. You have no idea” he said and a smile spread on my lips like the orange tint on a ripening fruit.

“Stop jor. You always find a way to flatter me and I like it” I giggled.

“I also confirmed our tickets to Sokoto. The coast is clear, and we are ready to go” Osita said.

“I like how that sounds!” I exclaimed.

“I wish it was tonight, though. I just…”

I interrupted. “Osii. Just one more sleep. Let me just get this marriage done with okay?”

“Okay. So, 11 pm?” 

“11 pm hun,” I said, and after a few minutes of extra discussion, I ended the call. Then, I proceeded  to join my cousins in the other room, so it would not be heard that everyone’s hands were on deck for the marriage preparation except the bride herself. 

…

Sitting opposite the mirror on a long stool while my oldest cousin Onyinyechi did my makeup, my tummy ached for the fourth time in a row. I was sure the pain wasn’t caused by hunger or trapped gas; it was from the buildup of hours and hours of anxiety. My palms were sweating, and I just couldn't keep my face still for a perfect makeover.

But I had to remind myself why I was doing all of that, I mean getting married to Mazi Egede. The first time he met me was in Enugu during my secondary school days. He was instantly interested in me and insisted on meeting my parents. My parents were indifferent about everything, but when Mazi promised to pay off Papa’s old debts, they swore that it was either I got married or forget about being their child. 

I was stubborn about it and hell-bent on not getting married until Mama came to my room three nights in a row, weeping and begging me to save our family. Even though I could see through her tears and realized how selfish and greedy she was, I was deeply moved, so I agreed. Mazi Egede paid off Papa’s debts and gifted him a plot of land when my bride price was paid a few weeks ago. 

So, I had satisfied my parents, and it was time to think about myself. 

Seeing that Onyinyechi has gone into the toilet to ease herself, I quickly texted Osita.

“I miss you” and he texted back almost immediately “I miss you right back” with the love emoji and that was enough to keep me smiling through that Godforsaken day. 

The ceremony went by quicker than I thought. I was able to make it through without falling on my knees to beg Mama to relent because, in the back of my mind, I had another prospective lover. I wanted to do things the right way and not have to run around like teenagers with Osita. But on the second thought, I left things as discreet as they were and kept that night’s mission to myself. 

After a long hour of fake tears, hugs, tons of prayers and good wishes. I was set to leave with Mazi Egede, God forbid I’d call him my husband. His house was one-hour drive away, and I was completely exhausted when we arrived. Pushing the entrance door ajar, I was met by two cold and scowling faces and another that I could not read the emotions. My eyebrows raised in astonishment because I thought Mazi Egede had two wives, making me the third. But alas, the old man had three already!

There was a moment of awkward silence before Mazi walked into the room.

“Ehhh, Eliza, Ifenna, Abigail ; this is Njideka. The new wife I told you all about. Eh, Abigial hope her room is cleared, and you have made space for her luggage?”

“Yes, nnaanyi” The one that I had assumed was the third wife replied, standing up and bowing in courtesy. She gave me a light smile and that made my shoulders drop a little. 

The baby in her arms drooled on her and soon started making a fuss, so she scampered out of the living room to attend to him. 

And they all left in the same order and with the facial expressions of Ifenna and Eliza, I didn't need a soothsayer to confirm that they detested me. But I couldn't care less, I was only there for a very temporal time.

Later that night, I laid in the bed anticipating my escape with the love of my life when the door opened and Mazi staggered in. He didn’t knock; he just pushed the door open with his toe and brightened the room with the corridor light. I sat up in bed. Pretending to be startled, I rubbed my eyes and turned to acknowledge his presence. 

“Good evening, sir,” I said.

“Please don't do that, my dear. Don't call me sir. You are my wife now”. He said coming closer to me as I smelt his stench of alcohol. 

He caressed my left arm giving me goosebumps and I wanted to shout for help when his hands travelled across my neck and cupped my left breast. 

Seeing me cringe, he chuckled and said “I thought your mother prepared you for all these already. Didn't she?”

When he saw that I had no answer, he chuckled again and shook his head. Getting up from the bed, he roughly took off his shirt and trousers, revealing the spiky hairs on his chest and his wobbling pot-belly. 

Mama was right, the sex was painful and so uncomfortable with all the large grunts he made while on top of me. He was sweating so much that a drop fell right on my lips. After a few minutes of torture, he collapsed beside me, taking deep breaths like prey that just escaped his predator. I observed the jerky rise and fall of his stomach, it was obvious that he was fast asleep and with his loud snores going on for a while, I knew it was time to act and get out of that place.

Putting on my blue floral gown and my sandals, I quickly grabbed my luggage, not caring about the others as Osita had some already. Quickly taking my phone out, I flashed him to alert him that it was go time.

As I tiptoed across the corridor and to the sitting room, everywhere was dark, so it took me a while to find the door. Just as I got hold of the doorknob, I heard a voice.

“And where do you think you are going?” I staggered and dropped my bag in shock as Eliza switched on the lights, glaring at me in amusement. 

“Eh?” she retorted as I heard my room door crack open. 

Benecca’s Tales

2022

All Rights Reserved 

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Sadly, teenage and early marriages are still a thing in Nigeria, especially in the northern regions.

Forced marriages are very common everyone everywhere and situations like this should be discouraged. 

Parents often feel that a young girl is an economic burden and therefore wish to marry off their young daughters before they become an economic liability.

“Njideka” is not just a story but a cry for help and awareness that these things must stop! 

Anyways, I hope you learnt a thing or two from this story.All characters are virtual and are only products of my imagination. 

This story is inspired by the song, “Never Look Back” by Nigerian Artiste, Brymo (Big fan girl here lol🙈)

Thank you for reading❤️

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Written by, Anakor Vanessa

contact : vanessaanakor@gmail.com