Her lips were unattractively pouted and seemed to protrude each day that greeted her woes. At a closer look at her, one could see a pretty woman whose face had been masqueraded by an ugly mask of a swollen face, from consistent blows from domestic violence; blows from a husband who’d taken to fisticuffing on his wife. As far as he was concerned, she was nothing but a mere cook and one to satisfy him when his libido aroused his sexual bestiality. One wondered if he kissed her lips and caressed her face he’d turned into a punching-bag; what’s an animal’s business with sweet romance anyway? It only thirsts for that thing between the female’s legs.
He never failed to exercise his knack for bestial treatment on her, when she’d gone against his obscure and fatuous rules. This day, she found her way outside. He’d always locked her in the room and had her battered as it pleased him that no neighbour may wade in. He followed her, his two arms clenched into fists. He’d torn her cloths, with just an under-pant which tucked into her natal cleft, and only hid the private part betwixt her legs from the eyes of the public. The brassiere she had on was a little askew on her chest. It seemed to have been pulled and torn when she ran. He got to her, and held her before she could make her way out of the veranda. He drove punches into her face, gripped her by the hand, and pulling her back in. She held tight to a pillar, but he overpowered her and scooped her from the floor and flung her waist on the pillar. “Olori buruku” he said whilst she wailed. Again, he hit her waist hard on the pillar, the excruciating pain caused her to screech and scream. The neighbours thronged at him; they could not obey his warning anymore. He’d warned that he would kill whosoever that came to settle a fight between him and his stoic wife; his timid neighbours had taken this warning with fear and only watched whilst he dealt with his wife. But this day, they could not stand it anymore.
“Kilo de?” He snapped at them, letting his wife off his grip. He searched for a weapon to attack his approaching neighbours. He found a machete. But his wife had scampered into the midst of people that had gathered. Blood dripped from her nostrils, and her lips had pushed out further with blood on her low lip. He peered into the crowd. “Olori buruku” he said on sighting her. But she was in safe hands now; the women donated wrappers to have her covered. He looked at the crowd, it occurred to him he could be lynched should he attack anyone with his machete. He dropped the machete and made to his room.
The Temporal Solution And Help She Got
The story above is not a fiction. It’s a true life story. The worst domestic violence I ever witnessed. I saw all that during my first year at the university in Ogun state. When this madness persisted, I called my friends who were also students, living in the house, and we confronted him, told him his madness needed to stop, and failure to do that, we were going to deal with him. We’d thought this man was going to be stubborn, but to our amazement, he started begging. That was when I knew that men who beat their wives only show off their muscles before their wives, but melt in fear before men. After that day, we never heard them fight. I can only imagine what he must have done to that poor woman when we left the compound after some months.
A Call For Government Intervention
Women do have their right, but who protects their right, especially against domestic violence? Sometimes, the first enemy of a woman is a woman. “Don’t you know he is the man, you’d better surrender to him” a woman would often advise a woman. And most women hardly support an adventurous woman. They rather gossip and hate her. In certain homes, some parents recreate the male children into beasts and teach the female children to live their lives in glorified slavery. “Ann, though you’re senior to him, you should know he is the man.” Parents, especially mothers often say to their daughters in the presence of their son. Such a son who’d seen his mother or step-mother battered by his father, lives with the notion that women are nothing but mere servants to men. He grows up to become a beast, and he never sees anything wrong with domestic violence. He was not taught to respect women, neither was he taught that wife-battering isn’t one of the ‘Ways To Discipline A Woman’, and so he turns his wife into a punch-bag.
The second enemy a woman has is the society. There’s a proverb in my language that says; “Okpotso oa ki ukpo na the thua kpe egbe” (the woman is not a cloth that should be worn tightly to one’s body), meaning a woman should never be trusted. The Yorubas have a saying that shares same meaning. I don’t know about the Ibos and the Housas, but I can bet with my best shirt that they do have such proverb. It shows the extent at which women are being discriminated in societies, and they are the major victims of domestic violence. You’re most likely not to respect who you don’t trust. And so the plight of a woman seems to go unabated. The Nigerian government should enact laws that prohibit wife or women battering but protect women’s right. However, this should not just end there because laws are not known to abolish wrong-doings totally; they only make people to do wrong in secret. The minds of men who still dwell in the primitive era, have to be worked on, and conquered to favour, love, and adore women. Women should be encouraged to speak out when their husbands beat them. Domestic violence poses a serious danger in the society, because when children are trained to be violent, the society itself will not be safe.
To the men, love and care for the women. An injury on the one you truly love is an injury to yourself.
