It was my first day
at the office, and it seemed like everyone had been expecting me, the newest,
youngest, and freshest employee at Akoka Engineering Limited. Being a young,
intelligent beautiful woman, I had the eyes of all the men at Akoka gazing at
my beauty while the receptionist gave me a tour of the office.
“This
would be your desk” the receptionist said to me.
“Thank
you” I said, in a British accent.
I had just returned to Lagos from London
two months earlier after fifteen years. My parents had relocated to London from
Lagos when I was six years old; I therefore had few acquaintances in Lagos. The
few friends I had, I had met at the National Youth Service orientation camp.
“This is Ibifuro” The receptionist said,
introducing me to a man and woman who I was going to be sharing an office with.
“She would be serving with us” She continued.
“Another Corper!” The woman said “The
company is taking a lot of you people this year, welcome, I’m Uyi” she said.
“Thank you, lovely to meet you” I said. The
three of them giggled “Did I miss a joke” I said, looking puzzled.
“I’m Kola, welcome” the man said.
“Lovely to meet you too” I replied slowly
hoping to have them giggle a second time.
“I’ll be in the
reception, if you have any problems let me know” the receptionist said as she
walked out of the office.
“Thank you mam” I said.
Uyi was in her mid-thirties;
I was twenty-one at the time so thirty looked like a milestone then. Kola was
in his late twenties. He was handsome, and had a good sense of humor; most of
all his English was impeccable. There were a few things I thought a man should
possess, one of which was being articulate.
In no time, Kola
and I became friends. We left for lunch together, spent weekends together, and
I even started attending his church. Kola lived with an uncle in Ikeja, while I
lived alone in a one bedroom flat in Lekki. Within a short time, I found myself
in a relationship with Kola. He gradually moved into my flat, and I was happy
to host him. With my family in London, I felt lonely most of the time and
having Kola live with me was comforting.
One night while
Kola and I were in bed, I received a text message from Dennis. Dennis was an
ex-boyfriend of mine. We had been dating before I left London for Lagos, and
although he had proposed to marry me, I was not confident I loved him that
much.
“What is that” Kola asked upon hearing my
phone beep.
“It is a text message” I replied
“At this time of the night? Who is sending
you a message at a quarter to midnight?”
“A friend”
“What do you mean a friend, let me read the
message” he demanded
“Of course not”
Kola struggled with me before snatching my
phone off me. He read the message which read “wish you were here with me, love and miss you. Dennis”. Kola went
ballistic after reading the text message, he threw my phone against the wall
and hurled insults at me, and then it happened, Kola slapped me thrice.
“How dare you!” I said, after the first
slap shaking my fist at him. I retaliated by returning a slap. This made him
furious causing him to slap me two more times. I felt my cheeks burn as tears
rolled down.
“Get out of my house” I said. Kola stood by
the bedroom door, hindering me from leaving the bedroom
“I’m sorry” he said
“Get out” I screamed
“Baby I’m sorry; to God who made me I’ve
never hit a woman”. He went down on his knees. I looked into Kola’s eyes as he
wept. He looked so helpless, so repentant; he looked like his life depended on
me.
“Kola my mother has warned me not to stay
with a man that hits me, it is over between us, please leave” I said, pulling
my hands away from his.
“Furo I’m sorry, I love you, I’ve built my
world around you, what would become of me if you leave me, I’m nothing without
you. I work and live for you, for our love” he said. Kola wept profusely. The
last time I had seen someone weep the way he did was at a funeral.
“Let this not happen again” I said
“It will never happen, thank you baby, I
love you”. He said, standing to his feet. We embraced each other and got back
into bed.
Forgiving Kola that
night was my biggest mistake, not only did Kola slap me after that, he was
using his belt, tree branches, anything he could lay his hands on to flog me. I
remember one night when Kola and I were having dinner, a male colleague of ours,
Tochukwu, called me on the phone. Kola smashed my phone on the floor and
accused me of having an affair with Tochukwu. He asked me to kneel down facing
the wall and to lift up my hands. Kola always accused me of having an affair
with any man he saw make contact with me; he would buy a new SIM card for me
whenever I had any male friend call. Because of how angry Kola became, I detached
from all my male friends but that did not make Kola happy. He criticized my
cooking, criticized my looks, and criticized anything that related to me. Before
long, I realized I no longer had a voice, and that Kola had become my voice.
One day at work, I
had taken off my jacket, revealing some bruises on my back which had been
caused by Kola. He had used his belt on me the night before because I had been
chatting with a friend on Facebook. He told me that Facebook was a medium for
women to prostitute and had accused me of being a prostitute for signing on to
it.
“What’s that on your back” Uyi asked
“What” I said
“It looks like a door scratch” Kola
responded quickly, he gave me a stern as if trying to coerce me to concur with
him.
“It must be a scratch” I said
Kola hastily introduced a new topic for
discussion to prevent Uyi from asking any more questions.
Six months had
passed and I was still with Kola. I had now become his bank. Kola would coerce
me into giving him loans. If I refused he would hit me, or would accuse me of
not being supportive of his future plans. He had proposed to marry me, and I
had even accepted to marry him, yet I had turned down Dennis, a man who treated
me like I was an eggshell. All the while I was dating Kola, no one knew his
true colours, everyone’s opinion of him was like my opinion of him the first
time we met, Kola the handsome, articulate and ambitious man. Each time I tried
to leave Kola, he would accuse me of wanting to leave him for another man; Kola
never accepted that he was wrong. To Kola I was the one with the problem, I was
the reason for his frustrations with life, I was the unfaithful one, I was the
ungrateful one, I was everything bad to Kola.
Kola and I were in
a relationship for a year, he never changed, and I never married him. One day I
was bold enough to speak to a female friend of mine, Natasha, who encouraged me
to confide in my mother. I had become ashamed of my circumstance with Kola that
I could not speak to anyone about it. As I narrated my experiences with Natasha
that day, I felt like I had a burden lifted.
